The Paladins

Cavaliers and Roundheads

Book 2: The Battle of Naseby

by Brian K. Asbury

“Oh, boy, this is welcome. Thanks very much,” said the green-clad American as he tucked into a hunk of bread and cheese. “This is the first food I’ve had in two days. I guess the guys holding me captive didn’t believe in wasting supplies on their prisoners.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that we liberated the food from some of their fellow-soldiers,” said the Bowman. “So consider it what they should have given you anyway. You say your name is Jeffery Smith?”

The black-haired man nodded. “Jeff to my friends. And speaking of whom, you haven’t seen them, have you?”

“People presumably wearing the same uniform as yourself?” Jeff nodded between bites. “I’m afraid not. Don’t tell me you’re lost in this time?”

“The way you say that kinda suggests that you are, too,” said Jeff.

“Oh, great,” Lionheart said. “All that effort and we’re no better off. He’s stuck here, too!” He stalked off away from the campfire.

“Who’s your cheery friend?” asked Jeff. “Sorry – that was uncalled-for. Yeah, I guess you could say I’m stuck here. Although I’ve got three friends who should be around somewhere, hopefully looking for me – actually, three friends and an idiot we got stuck with bringing along for the ride.”

“Well, let’s hope we can help you find them,” said Cameo, speaking for the first time since they arrived back at their camp. “They have some sort of time machine, do they?”

Jeff nodded again. “The Time Sphere. Rip and I built her a few years ago. Or a few centuries in the future, I should say. Trouble is, I don’t know what sort of shape she’s likely to be in. We crash-landed here and I got separated from the others.”

He studied the faces of the four members of the Paladins surrounding him (Lionheart was by now a little distance away). “Say – I maybe should have asked – what century are you guys actually from? You look like super-heroes, but none I’ve ever seen.”

“We’re relative newcomers,” said the Bowman. “Except for me, that is, and even I’ve changed my costume lately, so you probably wouldn’t recognize me even if you have heard of me before. I’m the Bowman of Britain. This is Cameo … Lodestone … Firebrand. We’re members of a British team called the Paladins. Our irascible friend over there is Lionheart. He isn’t actually a member of our team but he got caught in the blast that knocked us back here in time.”

“Yeah,” said Jeff uncertainly. “Sorry, don’t take offense, but I’m afraid I still haven’t heard of any of you. You ARE from the twentieth century?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Uh-huh. From 1965.”

There was a brief pause. “Well, that, y’know, explains why he doesn’t recognize any of us,” said Lodestone.

“It does? How so?”

“We’re from 1987,” explained the Bowman. Twenty-two years in your future.”

“Right. Still, that should be no problem if we can recover the Time Sphere and fix it.”

“Which means finding your friends,” said Firebrand, coming nearer the fire. “So tell us about them, please.”

“OK,” said Jeff, wiping his mouth. “Well, first off there’s Rip – that’s Dr. Ripley Hunter. He’s about the same age as me, a little shorter maybe, with blond hair. Then there’s Bonnie. Bonnie Baxter. Very pretty, dark hair. Her brother Corky’s with us, too. About 14 years old, yay high, red hair.” He indicated with his hand. “The fourth one isn’t exactly a friend – he’s a movie star we had along for the ride. We were dumb enough to let a big-time Hollywood producer persuade us to take Steve Cleaves back to Elizabethan England to research the role of Sir Walter Raleigh in an upcoming movie blockbuster. BIG mistake. That dumbo got us all into real trouble.”

Lodestone’s eyes lit up. “Steve Cleaves? THE Steve Cleaves? Wow!”

“Yeah. Well, at least you seem to have heard of him even if you haven’t heard of us Time Masters.”

“That’s what you call yourselves?”

“It’s what Corky dubbed us and the name kinda stuck, dumb though it is.” He looked from one to another of them. “Well, if Cleaves is still around in 1987, that bodes well for us getting out of here – or at least for Rip and the others having gotten out. You better not tell me any more, though – knowing too much about your own future isn’t healthy.”

The Bowman nodded in agreement, although inside he was cheered by knowing that he had actually seen the movie Jeff was talking about, albeit on TV, which confirmed that Steve Cleaves, at least, had returned successfully to his own time.

“Anyway, to cut a long story short,” said Jeff, “a few months back we were on a trip to Nazi Germany and the Time Sphere got damaged. We fixed her up, but I did tell Rip I wasn’t sure about one of the power coils and we ought to replace it. We never did get round to it, though – too busy with other missions.”

“And it failed on this trip?”

“Yeah. Cut out as we started back from the 16th Century. We materialized in midair over a lake, and we had to use the emergency escape hatch in the Sphere to get out. I got a cramp, though, and in the confusion I ended up on the lake shore on my own. I’m pretty sure the others got out, but where they went I don’t know. I had a belt radio but it got waterlogged and wouldn’t work, so the same probably happened to the ones the others had. I was trying to find them when I ran into a bunch of the king’s soldiers and they brought me here and interrogated me. I don’t think they really know what to make of me.”

“That’s understandable. What do you think Dr. Hunter and the others would have done in the meantime?” asked Cameo.

“Hopefully found some way to retrieve the Time Sphere from the bottom of that lake and fix her up instead of wasting time looking for me,” said Jeff. “But I don’t hold out much hope. Even without the radios, our translator disks,” he indicated the device at his throat which had earlier been referred to by one of the soldiers in the tavern as an ‘amulet’, “have a tracer function. And they’re waterproof. If Rip managed to get the Time Sphere working again he’d have homed in on me. The fact that he hasn’t is worrying.”

“In that case,” said the Bowman, “I don’t think we can afford to waste too much time. At first light we have to try and find Dr. Hunter and the others, before either side in this civil war finds them!”
***

 

Two figures soared high above the English countryside in the early morning light. To anyone on the ground observing them, they would have been little more than specks – probably high-flying birds. However, had anyone turned a spyglass upon them, they would just about have discerned that they were, in fact, human figures – a man in black and silver, wearing a helmet embossed with a stylized lion’s head and the three lions of England emblazoned on his chest, and a young (and very pregnant) red-haired woman clad in a costume which was predominantly green and orange. They crisscrossed back and forth as if looking for something.

“We’re too high, y’know,” said Lodestone, who was struggling for breath a little in the rarefied atmosphere at this height. “I can’t see anything from up here.”

“Well, we can’t go any lower,” Lionheart said, adjusting his flight to get closer to the young mistress of magnetism. “Flying people are not exactly the norm in this time period. Like your friend the Bowman keeps reminding us, we don’t want to end up being written about in the history books.”

“Oh, c’mon, Lionheart. Who’d believe it even if they saw us?”

“Lots of people, in all likelihood. They still believe in witches in this century and will continue to do so for some time. I don’t think the infamous Salem witch-trials in your own country have happened yet.”

“No, that was 1692.”

“I’m impressed. You do know SOME history, then?”

Lodestone flared. “I’m not completely ignorant, y’know. The only reason I didn’t finish high school was ’cause of these freaky powers I got. But even when I was being poked and prodded by the Military I still got some schooling. I might not know much about English history but so what? How much about American history do YOU know?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” said Lionheart rather more quietly, the ferocity of her response having taken him aback. “Look, I’m sorry, I just assumed … but you said ‘poked and prodded by the Military’? What do you mean? They experimented on you?”

“Sorta. They wanted to know, like, what made me tick. Look, I don’t wanna talk about this right now, OK? Let’s find that sphere thing and get out of here.” She accelerated towards yet another small lake. “I still say we’re too high,” she said to Lionheart as he caught her up. “The Earth’s magnetic field is a tad stronger in this time, but I still can’t make out much at this height. If there’s a big mass of metal down there, I can’t pick it out from up here.”

Lionheart made no reply but suddenly peeled off towards the lake. “Hey!” she said, moving after him. “What’s up?”

He seemed to be adjusting a control on his helmet. “I think I’ve got something,” he said.

“You do?”

He nodded. “One of the modifications Stacker’s people made to this suit over Perry’s and my original design was the inclusion of devices aimed at tracking hidden alien spacecraft. One of the Martian spaceships they cannibalized equipment from included a tachyon scanner.”

“Uh… I know I said I’m not completely uneducated, but science isn’t my strong suit, Lionheart. You wanna explain what that means?”

“It’s simple enough. The engines of ships designed to travel faster than light emit faster-than-light particles called tachyons. The Martians use a scanner which detects tachyons to track each other in space.”

“And you’ve got one of those gizmos in your helmet, right?”

“Right. And it’s picking up a definite tachyon trail – something that shouldn’t exist in this time.”

“You think it’s from Jeff’s Time Sphere?”

“It makes sense. I’m no scientist either, Lodestone, but a time machine would also use tachyons to break the time barrier, wouldn’t you reckon?”

“I guess.”

“Looks like we’re going lower after all, then.” He swooped down towards the lake, which was surrounded by woodland which looked to be deserted. About a hundred feet from the surface, he kicked in his braking jets and hovered.

“The tachyon trail definitely enters the water here” Lionheart said as Lodestone joined him. “See anything now?”

Rhea concentrated, shifting her magnetically-sensitive eyes into focus. “Yeah… yeah! There’s definitely something there. Big, round and metallic. It’s in pretty deep water, but I think that’s it, Lionheart.”

“Right.”

“So what do we do now?”

“It’s no use to us down there. Can you pull it up with your magnetic powers?”

Rhea looked doubtful. “I dunno. Like I said, it’s in deep. I’m not sure I can grab it from this distance.”

“How close do you need to get?”

“I could try hovering just above the water, but I’d have to use a lot of power. It’d help if you could hold me aloft so I could concentrate everything on the one task.”

“OK. But I’ll warn you – this suit isn’t designed to carry passengers for any length of time. The jets have tripped out before under a double load, and they’ve already been strained by my carrying the Bowman last night.” He eyed her pensively. “However, you don’t look that heavy, even with Junior, there. Let’s give it a try.”

They dropped lower, hovering just a few inches above the surface. Lionheart grasped her firmly and upped the thrust of his jets to maximum. Rhea ceased flying under her own power and let him take the strain as she focused all of the magnetic power she could draw from the earth down into the water and the metallic bulk she could sense there.

“Got it… but it’s heavy, Lionheart. Not sure I can do it from this distance.”

“Try. It’s our only hope. But just remember, there’s nowhere in this time I can recharge the power cells in this suit. If I run out of power, that’s your lot! End of game, no saving-throw!”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Concentrate.”

She did so, and felt the object beneath the water shift, wobble, then move, slowly, towards her. She strained with every iota of power she could muster to bring it closer and closer to the surface. A sudden buzzing sound, however, almost made her drop it.

“Ignore that!” snapped Lionheart. “It’s just my suit telling me the batteries are getting low. I’ll be on reserve power soon, so please get on with it!”

“Yeah. Well, it is getting easier the closer it gets, but it’s heavy and…”

“Don’t talk. Just do it.”

She nodded, concentrating even harder and feeling the sphere accelerate faster and faster. She could almost see it now, as it rose towards the surface. Another buzzer sounded. “Reserve power,” said Lionheart. “Another few seconds is all we have.”

“In that case…” said Lodestone. Redeploying some of the magnetic energy at her disposal, she shifted and grabbed Lionheart, taking the strain and pulling both of them into the air. As they rose up, the sphere appeared just below the surface and finally broke through. With some effort, she directed them towards the shore, finally depositing the sphere on dry land and themselves beside it. As she finally relaxed, she dropped and doubled up.

“Are you OK?” asked Lionheart.

“Yeah… think so. Just a strain is all. Could’ve done with bringing it closer before I took the whole load.”

“Well, just rest for now. Remember your condition.”

“I’m pregnant, Lionheart, not ill. I’ll be OK. And if I don’t fetch the others, who will? You can’t if you’re out of power.”

“I’m not totally out, but you’re right. I haven’t enough juice left to fly back to where we left the others.”

“Then just give me a few minutes to get my second wind an’ I’ll do it.”

“OK. But be careful.”

“Lionheart,” said Rhea with a smile. “I was being hunted by the US Military for nearly five years. I didn’t survive that long by not being careful, y’know!”
***

 

“It’s starting to get dark,” Lodestone observed, looking up at the sky.

Firebrand, sitting nearby and munching on a bar of chocolate filched from the Time Sphere’s supplies, chuckled. “It’s a good thing Lionheart is helping out with the repairs to the Sphere or he’d no doubt make some snide remark about you stating the blindingly obvious, Rhea.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” muttered the American girl, who was mind-numbingly bored. She studied her companion. “Y’know, I’ve never seen anybody thin as you eat so much! You haven’t stopped since I ferried you all here.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot to make up.”

“An’ still a bit to go, I reckon,” said Rhea.

Becca swallowed the last of the chocolate. “I wonder if Jeff’s got any more of this in there?”

“Oh, jeez! Steady on, girl, you’ll burst!”

“I don’t think so,” said the red, white and black clad Englishwoman. “Actually, though, I think I’ve probably recovered enough strength now to try for the rest directly, without stuffing myself any more with food.”

“Let’s hope so. The rest of us wanna eat, too, y’know!”

Just then, the Bowman of Britain appeared through the trees. He was carrying a brace of rabbits. “So who’s for doing some cooking?” he said.

“Don’t look at me,” said Becca. “I don’t do the ‘c’ word.”

“Oh, give ‘em here,” said Lodestone. “And your knife?”

The Bowman flipped a hunting-knife from his belt and handed it to her. She moved a short distance away and started to skin the coneys. “Useful girl to have around, or what?” he said to Becca.

“She spent a long time surviving alone,” she replied. “She’s certainly better equipped to survive out here than I am, anyway. I wouldn’t know where to begin skinning a rabbit, much less cooking one.”

He dropped down on his haunches beside her. “How’s the repairs going?” he asked.

“Last time one of them reported, pretty well. The water didn’t get into the Time Sphere’s works and Jeff was pretty sure he could jury-rig a temporary replacement for the damaged power coil. He’s also got Sandie and Lionheart working with him, of course, and Sandie’s a genius with this sort of stuff – although both of them have had a good old moan about antiquated technology.”

“I can imagine. It’s pretty amazing that Jeff and this Hunter chap actually got the thing to work at all. They built it in the fifties, incredibly – at least fifteen years before the first microchips became available. God, it must still be working on valves!”

“Actually, Jeff’s rather indignant description was ‘state-of-the-art transistor banks – the best Stark Industries could supply’!”

“Oh, well – transistors. That makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

They both fell about laughing. “Seriously, though,” said Becca. “He’s also got fifties and sixties attitudes. I thought Sandie was going to clobber him at one point!”

“Why?”

“I think it was the ‘you’re not a bad little scientist for a colored girl’ remark that did it. You should’ve seen her face!”

“Bloody hell! I should think so!”

“Fortunately he isn’t stupid. He realized he’d caused offense and apologized. Talk about a clash of cultures, though.”

“Right…”

At this point, their companions began to emerge from the Time Sphere, looking tired and slightly grubby. Lionheart looked up at the sky. “It’s starting to get dark,” he observed.

“Give that guy a silver dollar,” muttered Rhea, who had by now skinned and cleaned the rabbits and was fashioning a crude spit.

“Made any progress?” asked Tom, getting back up to his feet.

“Yes and no,” said Cameo.

“We’ve managed to replace the power coil,” said Jeff, “but trouble is, it’s shutting the corral after the cattle have stampeded.”

“There were FAR too many Westerns on TV in the sixties,” muttered Cameo. “What he means is that when the original coil burnt out, the power cells drained almost completely. There’s barely enough juice left to power a light bulb, much less take us through time.”

“Bad news. Any way of recharging them?”

“You see any electric sockets nearby?” said Lionheart dryly.

“There is a contingency device,” Jeff said. “It’s what Corky dubbed the ‘Frankenstein gizmo’.”

“The WHAT?”

“It’s an extendible lightning rod,” the black-haired scientist explained. “The idea is to send it up in a thunderstorm and…”

“I think they probably get the picture,” interrupted Lionheart. “But as I said in there, this is hardly thunderstorm weather, is it?” He pointed to the clear, cloudless sky. “We could wait weeks to get a thunderstorm at this time of year.”

There was silence. Then Becca struggled to her feet. “OK, I get the message. It’s time for me to start pulling my weight around here instead of acting like an invalid, right?”

“Becca,” began Tom, “you’re still weak from…”

“Cobblers! If I can’t do this now, I never will be able to.” She looked around and started towards a small bush.

“What are you going to do?” asked Cameo.

“You’ll see.” Becca grasped branches in both hands and closed her eyes. Suddenly she vanished in a blaze of light and flame, accompanied by a report as loud as a thunderclap.

Jeff staggered back against the metal hull of the Time Sphere in shock. “Holy cow! What happened?”

In reply, the brilliant ball of light that had replaced Becca flashed over to him. “It’s OK, Jeff. This is my other form. I convert my mass into energy. Didn’t the others tell you?”

“Er… no…”

There was another, less loud report, and the ball of energy coalesced into a human woman once more – however, one who was somewhat changed.

“You did it!” said Sandie. “You replaced your lost mass from that bush!”

Firebrand grinned. “Told you I could do it!.” She now looked back to her old self again – still slim, but no longer gaunt and wasted.

“Well, you sure look fit and healthy enough now,” said Rhea, joining them. “Guess you won’t be wanting any rabbit, then?”

“In your dreams!” She turned to Jeff. “Well? You want to put up this Frankenstein rod thingummijig or what?”

“I don’t understand. What -?”

Becca sighed. She held out her hands, palms facing one another. Spectral flames danced around them, and then a bright arc of electricity shot between them. She grinned. “I’ve got all the power you need right here,” she said. “All YOU have to do is give me some means of getting it into your ship, and then we can get out of here!”
***

 

“OK, this is more like it,” said Jeff, as he powered up the Sphere and studied its displays. “The old girl isn’t a hundred per cent, but she’s alive and kicking again.”

“But will she take us back to the twentieth century?” asked Lionheart, jostling for elbow room in the slightly overcrowded space.

“Sure. No problem.” Jeff looked around. “But I think I’d better take you guys back before I see about finding Rip and the others. There sure as heck isn’t gonna be room in here for another four besides us.”

“No!” said the Bowman. “That can wait. We promised we’d help you find your friends and that’s what we’ll do.”

“Yeah. Appreciate the offer, folks, but us Time Masters take care of our own. And no offense, but it’s bad enough ordinary twentieth century people wandering around in this time without guys and girls with weird powers scaring the locals. It could really screw up history if any more people see you and it gets recorded in official documents somewhere.”

“But…”

“Sorry. Much as I want to find Rip and the others, preserving history comes first. Here we go. Up to power now.” He pulled a lever and the Time Sphere’s round door closed with a clang! Another part of the display lit up like a Christmas tree. Jeff turned several knobs and the time indicator changed.

“All mechanical dials, note,” Sandie whispered to Becca. “Not an LED in sight.” The red-haired young woman grinned in response.

“All set,” Jeff announced. “Five minutes or so, and we’ll be right back where you came from – just a few seconds after you left, with any luck.”

“You mean, we’re, y’know, moving through time already?” gasped Lodestone.

“Yep.”

“Awesome!”

As they watched, the dials changed, shifting from the ‘present’ date of June 13th, 1645 and accelerating through the remainder of the 17th Century. True to Jeff’s word, within just a few minutes they had crossed into their own century and were speeding towards the year 1987.

“Will you be able to take us directly back to London?” asked Tom.

“Probably best not to,” Jeff replied. “You didn’t tell me what was going on when you left, but I figure it must be something I wouldn’t want the Time Sphere caught up in, especially not functioning at less than a hundred per cent. If you folks don’t mind, I’ll take you to somewhere outside the city.”

“Here,” said Tom, picking up a map and stabbing a finger at it to indicate a location to Jeff. “Wordenshire Castle. That’s a safe location to drop us off.”

“OK, if you say so.” Jeff manipulated several more knobs to guide the Sphere to a new destination. By now the date indicators had reached the 1950s and were visibly flowing.

Less than half a minute later, they stopped altogether, now showing July 11, 1987, the date from which the Paladins had been hurled into the past. However, Jeff made no announcement of arrival. He instead made further adjustments to the controls. Finally he stepped back and frowned. “That’s odd.”

“What’s odd?” said Firebrand.

“We’re still in the time stream. The Time Sphere hasn’t materialized.”

“And that isn’t normal, right?”

“No. For some reason the safeties kicked in and stopped it. Hang on – maybe there’s some disturbance outside that it doesn’t like. I’ll take us forward a few days.”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Lionheart. “We’ve got unfinished business to take care of.”

“And there are people who’ll be missing us,” added Cameo.

“Can’t be helped, folks. OK, try again…” He studied the controls. “Nope. Doesn’t want to know.”

Cameo rubbed her chin. “Without giving too much away, Jeff, when we departed there was a lot of weird stuff going on. There could have been energies discharged that had a lingering effect.”

“OK, let’s try moving well away from your departure point, then. I’m setting the controls for Australia. Can’t get much further away than that!” Again, a pause. “Nope. Still doesn’t like that.”

“Right then,” said Lionheart. “How about this, then? Take us back to BEFORE we left. That way, any problematic energies won’t be around.”

Jeff smiled weakly. “No can do, guys. If we were to materialize in a time when you were already present, we’d do so as immaterial phantoms. In fact, the Sphere is programmed not to even attempt to do so. I don’t know what would happen if the Sphere became immaterial, and I don’t WANT to know!”

“But what’s the alternative?”

Jeff started to manipulate the controls once more. “Well, first thing is to see if we can return back to the 17th Century.” The Sphere’s mechanisms hummed as the date counter started running backwards. “If we can’t dematerialize back there, we’ve got real problems.”

Over the next few minutes, there was scarcely a sound in the Time Sphere. No-one spoke and they barely even breathed. Then, as the counter clicked back to June 13th, 1645, Jeff made an audible sigh of relief. “We’re materializing,” he announced. He opened the door and they reemerged into the cool summer night air.

“Now what?” asked Becca, speaking for them all.

Jeff shrugged. “This one’s got me beat, folks. We need to find Rip – he’s the real expert when it comes to solving puzzles. And nobody knows more about the science behind time travel. If he can’t figure it out, nobody can.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Lionheart. “Let’s do what we said we’d do in the first place and find your friends!”
***

 

“Well, this is strange,” said Jeff. “The Time Sphere’s tracking instruments are picking up the translator disks that Rip, Bonnie and Corky were wearing, but they’re over thirty miles away. I can’t figure why they’d wander so far away from where we crashed…”

“Let’s have a look,” said Lionheart. He picked up one of the Time Masters’ maps and compared it with the display. “That would put them maybe in the town of Nuneaton.”

“Why would they go there?” asked Lodestone.

“Beats me. But we can get there easy enough in the Sphere. Hold tight and I’ll set the coordinates.”

The hum from the Time Sphere’s mechanisms grew momentarily louder as it slipped sideways a little within the time stream.

“We’d better make this fast,” said the Bowman. “There’s only an hour or so left before the sun comes up. How accurate a fix can you get on these things?”

“Well, they weren’t strictly speaking designed to be homing devices, but they do give off a very distinctive electronic signature. I can set us down within a few hundred yards of them – better be outside the town, though – we don’t want to scare any early risers.”

The hum rose again and then died as Jeff materialized the Sphere back into the real world. “I’d better go,” said Rhea. “My, y’know, special vision should enable me to find anything producing an electronic signal around here. Let’s face it, there shouldn’t be anything else doing it!”

“OK, but I’ll go with you,” Lionheart said. “My suit’s now powered back up to full strength, thanks to being able to plug it into the Time Sphere.”

“I’d better go too,” said Jeff, “if one of you can carry me. Rip and the others don’t know you, after all.”

“I don’t see the necessity … oh, all right,” said Lionheart. “I suppose there’s some logic in it. But let’s not waste any time.”

The door opened and the light streaming from within the Sphere showed that it had landed in the middle of a plowed field, whose as yet unidentifiable crop was just beginning to shoot. “Some farmer isn’t going to be too pleased with us,” observed Firebrand, as she watched them rise into the air, impelled by Rhea’s magnetic powers.

The trio flew swiftly towards the darkened town, noting that there was already a faint glow of pink on the eastern horizon. “It’s going to be a good day for a battle,” said Lionheart.

“Pity we’re not going to be around to watch,” said Jeff.

Lionheart through him a disapproving look. “I’ve been in real battles as a soldier, mate,” he said gruffly. “It isn’t a bloody spectator sport.”

“I didn’t mean -”

“Will you guys pipe down?” said Lodestone. “I think I can see something.” They were now fast approaching the town’s main street and the distinctive market cross in its center.

“Where? I don’t see a thing,” said Jeff.

“Yeah, but you can’t see magnetic fields. Down there! Look!” She pointed towards a large town house, silhouetted in the gloom. They drifted towards it. “They’re in one of the rooms on the top floor.”

“All of them?”

“I think so. There are several things, all together. They’re so close I can’t make out how many.”

“That doesn’t bode well,” said Jeff.

“Any people about?” asked Lionheart. “I can see somebody standing in front of the building at street level with my infrared filters, but how about inside the house?”

Lodestone concentrated. “Yeah… there’s another magnetic field inside the room that’s probably a person.”

“Man or woman? And one of theirs or one of ours?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Can’t tell through the solid wall.”

“Only one way to find out, then. Can you get us in – magnetically open a window or something?”

“Sure. The windows and shutters have metal latches. You want I should open the nearest one to whoever that is?”

“Right.” She moved her magnetic force bubble round until it was opposite a certain window, and gestured. The shutters and the window they were protecting swung open silently.

“Good girl. Now, nobody follow me until I give the sign.” With a lithe bound, Lionheart leapt onto the casement and vanished inside. A few seconds later, he reappeared at the window and gestured for the others to join him.

As Jeff, then Rhea, clambered inside, he gestured for her to close the shutters and then detached a small portable lamp from his utility belt and activated it. Jeff moved to the bed. “Recognize him?” asked Lionheart. Jeff shook his head. “It’s OK. He’s not going to wake up.”

Rhea’s hand flew to her mouth. “Lionheart! You didn’t!”

“I didn’t kill him, no. I’m not that stupid. But one thing we learned in the SAS commandos was how to make sure a sleeping man STAYS asleep. He’ll have a headache when he wakes up, and a few bruises he won’t remember acquiring, but that’s all. He’ll be OK.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” said Jeff. “But I don’t know who this guy is. A soldier, judging by the clothes piled up over there.” He pointed towards a large chest.

Lionheart crossed to the chest and picked up a round steel helmet with a red plume sticking out of it. “On the Parliamentary side, obviously. And an officer, I’d say. But his identity isn’t important. Lodestone, where are the translator disks?”

“Right there in that chest. Hang on…” She gestured towards it and the padlock which secured it dropped off.

“Handy girl to have around if you’re a burglar,” muttered Jeff.

Lionheart swept the officer’s clothes off the chest and hauled it open. Inside, among various items of contemporary clothing and bric-a-brac were three green uniforms, similar to Jeff’s, of varying sizes. Each had a metallic object fastened under the collar.

“All three of them!” breathed Jeff. They must’ve been captured and had ‘em confiscated.”

“Right,” said Lionheart. “So NOW how do we find them?”
***

 

Major Gerald Pickering, presently serving in the New Model Army of Parliament under General Oliver Cromwell, was not used to rude awakenings. His orderly had instructions to wake him one hour after dawn with a mug of hot milk laced with brandy – certainly not to pour cold water over his head!

Needless to say, as he woke up spluttering and coughing, his first instinct was to bellow a demand to know what in God’s name was going on. However, as he found a strong gloved hand – unnaturally strong, for he was unable to dislodge it in the slightest – covering his mouth, and equally strong hands pinning back his arms, all he could do was thrash around helplessly on the bed.

“Be still and be quiet and you’ll come to no harm,” said a male voice from nearby. “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if you make any trouble.” He continued to struggle for a few seconds, then concluded that this was folly. He stopped fighting his assailants and allowed himself to go limp.

“That’s better,” said the voice. A man moved into his field of vision, although he could not make out what was illuminating the room as the shutters were still closed. The man tugged at his own clothing. “Recognize the style?” he said. “Nod once if you do.”

Pickering nodded. “Good.” The man picked up a pile of similar garments from somewhere and held them up. “Now I’m going to ask you politely just once, friend – where did you get these?” Pickering blinked helplessly. “So that you can answer, my associate is going to remove his hand from your mouth. Don’t get any ideas about calling for help when he does. If you raise your voice above a whisper, he’ll hit you hard – and believe me, you don’t want to know HOW hard he can hit. Understand? Nod once for yes. OK, then. Lionheart?”

The hand released itself from Pickering’s mouth. “Who … who are ye?” he whispered. “Be ye agents of the king?”

“That doesn’t concern you,” growled a second voice from behind his head. “Answer the bloody question! Where did you get those clothes?”

“From … from people dressed like him,” said Pickering, nodding in the direction of the visible man. We found them near Grafton, wandering along the road. They ran from us, so we gave chase and assailed them. Aye, we quickly overpowered them for they carried no weapons, though the two men did try to fight – especially the taller one, who my sergeant had to cuff mightily to persuade him to cease his struggles.”

The man covered his eyes. “Oh, boy, that sure sounds like Steve Cleaves, all right – the big lunkhead. He’s too stupid to give up quietly.”

“I beg thy pardon?”

“Never mind. What happened to these people? Where are they now?”

“They were brought to me for interrogation. Naturally, I assumed them to be spies for the king, though they denied it.”

“Dressed like this? Don’t you think that’s a tad unlikely?”

“Aye. So they said, also. In the end, I gave them a choice – prove their loyalty to their Parliament by serving in the New Model Army or be hanged as traitors.”

“What? That’s crazy! You enlisted them in the army? All of them?”

The second voice spoke: “There was a boy and a woman among them. Don’t expect us to believe you drafted THEM, too, sunshine. Where are they?”

Pickering tried to turn to address the unseen speaker but a light cuff on the side of his head dissuaded him. “The boy, we made a drummer for the 18th Foot Regiment. The woman is here, in this house.”

“If you’ve harmed her -!” snarled the visible man, taking a step nearer.

“Nay! I am a Christian man, sir! I would not harm a woman! She serves here in the scullery.”

“Bonnie? A scullery maid?”

“Aye! ‘Twas either that or the pillories. She must do penance for daring to go garbed as a man. ‘Tis against the scriptures!”

“Where is she?”

“The servants’ quarters are in the basement, sir. But they are securely locked until the house rouses.”

“That’s all we need to know,” the man said. “Lionheart – can you do another of those famous commando nerve pinches?”

“With pleasure,” said the unseen speaker. And the lights went out.
***

 

Bonnie Baxter came instantly awake as she heard soft noises from the corridor outside the tiny room which had been her prison now for three days. Silently getting to her feet, she picked up the filthy blanket which had been her only bed with one hand and groped to find with her other a cast-iron skillet which she had managed to conceal last night under the voluminous ragged dress they had given her to wear.

She heard muffled voices outside and positioned herself by the door. OK, she thought. This is my one chance. They’re letting me out to slave for them another day, but they’re about to get more than they’ve bargained for!

Although she had heard no key being placed in the lock, there was a click as the bolt was shot, and the door started to swing open. A dark shadow moved into the opening. Now! She hurled the blanket over the newcomer’s head and shoulders and brought the skillet down with all her strength.

There was a loud clangggg! of metal-on-metal. “What the bloody hell?” exclaimed a voice from beneath the blanket. She hit out again. And again. “Christ! Stop it, will you?”

Another voice rang out from the corridor. “Bonnie! Stop! He’s a friend!”

Bonnie stopped in her tracks and looked out. A tall man stood there; in the gloom, she could not make out his features, but the voice was unmistakable. A second silhouette – a pregnant woman?? – stood by him.

“Jeff?” she said, dropping the skillet and running to him. “Jeff, is that you?”

“It sure is,” he said as she hugged him. “Are you OK?”

A voice from Bonnie’s prison room said: “Oh, great. Are YOU OK, Bonnie dear? Lovely! Nobody wants to know if I’M OK. Don’t mind me, I’ve only just been bashed on the noggin three or four times with a ruddy great frying pan!”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby, Lionheart,” said the pregnant woman. “You’re wearing your helmet, so don’t pretend it hurt.”

“It may not have hurt, but my ears are still ringing!”

Bonnie withdrew from her friend. “Jeff – who are these people? Have you seen Rip and Corky?”

“No, but we know roughly where they are,” replied Jeff. He indicated the other two. “These are friends,” he said. “Fellow time-travelers from the future.”

“Reluctant ones, though,” said Lionheart, joining them. “Listen.” There were sounds of stirring from upstairs. “That’s no surprise,” he said. “We’ve made enough noise to wake the dead down here – or at least you have, trying to turn my helmet into a chuffing bell!”

“I’m sorry…”

“Save it,” said Lionheart. “Let’s get out of here so we can figure out how to find your friends from among thousands of other people on a battlefield!”

“Gawd!” he muttered as they made their way back up the cellar steps. “Have you ever had some days when you just wish you hadn’t got up?”
***

 

“We were just unlucky, I guess, to run into a bunch of soldiers while we were looking for you, Jeff,” said Bonnie, who had now changed into a fresh green Time Masters uniform. “We needed to get help from somewhere, of course, to raise the Time Sphere back up from the bottom of that lake, but what we had in mind was an obliging farmer with a team of horses, not a troop of puritan thugs who were so scandalized by the fact I was wearing pants instead of a skirt that they wouldn’t listen to a word we tried to say to them.

“It didn’t help, either,” she added with a sigh, “that Steve picked a fight with their officer. After that, there was only one inevitable outcome.”

Jeff grimaced. “That goddamn maniac! First he gets in a sword fight with Sir Walter Raleigh, then this! Gee, that clown’s got all the survival instinct of a depressed lemming!”

“He WAS trying to ‘defend my honor’, Jeff,” Bonnie said.

“Yeah, yeah. We know what THAT means, don’t we? He’s had the hots for you since he first saw you back in B.B. Koenig’s office in Hollywood!”

“Well…”

A cough interrupted them. “I’m sure you can sort that out later, friends,” said Cameo. “But right now, we need to figure out a way to find your friends. That has to take priority here.”

“Of course,” said Bonnie. “Damn, if only they had their belt radios!”

“If our belt radios hadn’t shorted out after we had to swim for it, we wouldn’t have gotten separated in the first place,” said Jeff. “Our translator disks are based on more advanced technology, of course, but the radios are just good ol’ 1965 transistorized models. Remind me when we get back to talk to Rip about finding some way to waterproof them.”

“Tell me about it,” said Lionheart. They all turned to look at him. “First time this suit got wet, it shorted out too. Bloody boffins. They never think of these things!”

“Yeah, well… none of this is helping us,” said Cameo. “Look, you’ve got all sorts of scanning equipment on board. Isn’t there something that might pick out your friends from all the others on the battlefield?”

Jeff shook his head. “We’ve a pretty sophisticated infrared scanner that can pick up a human being from animals at a distance, but human beings in this period are the same as ones in ours. There’s no difference.”

“Er… there is ONE minor difference,” said Lodestone.

“Yeah. Men tend to be shorter in this era,” said Jeff. “But unfortunately we can’t scan for height.”

“That isn’t what I meant,” said Lodestone.

“What did you mean, Rhea?” asked the Bowman.

“Magnetic fields,” she replied. “I can see ‘em, y’know? And people here have ones that are a bit stronger than people from our time.”

“That’s crazy,” Firebrand said. “Why should that be?”

“No… no, it makes sense,” said Cameo, suddenly excited. “I think Lodestone’s on to something here.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bonnie.

“The Earth’s magnetic field fluctuates over time. In our time it’s getting weaker. Here, three hundred years in the past, it’s stronger. Therefore it makes sense that our personal magnetic fields, having developed in a weaker planetary field, are also a bit weaker than those of people native to our time.”

“So if we can pick out people on the battlefield with weaker magnetic fields,” said the Bowman, “they’ll be Rip Hunter and the others.”

“Right.”

They turned to Rhea once again. “So if we fly over the battle,” said Bonnie, “will you be able to pick out Rip, Corky and Steve?”

Rhea shook her head. “I doubt it,” she said. “I’d have to get pretty close to do that. The difference is only slight, y’know. It was just an idea…”

“Well, it still might be worth something,” said Jeff. “We do have scanners that can measure magnetic flux – but they weren’t designed for something like this. Even turned up full, I doubt they’d have the sensitivity to do the job.”

“Maybe I could modify them,” suggested Cameo. “Especially if I can link them in to the more advanced circuitry in Lionheart’s battle suit.”

Lionheart stepped back. “You are NOT messing with my suit!” he declared.

“Do you want to get out of here or not?”

He became aware that everyone was watching him intently.

“Put it this way, Plante,” said Firebrand in a sweet-sounding voice with undertones of menace, “if the circuitry in your suit represents the only way we can get home, we’re going to use it whether you like it or not.” She raised one hand and flames crackled around it.

“Are you THREATENING me?”

She raised one eyebrow.

Lionheart snorted. “Oh, very well!” he harrumphed. “But you put it back the way it was afterwards, OK?”

“I’ll be as careful as I can,” said Cameo.

“Wait a sec,” the Bowman said. “I hate to rain on everybody’s parade, here, but that battle is going to start in less than an hour from now. How long is this likely to take?”

“Ah. That could be a problem. I don’t know. A while, probably.”

Jeff and Bonnie grinned at each other. “It’s not a problem at all,” Jeff said. “This is a time machine, remember? Take all day if you need it – I’ll move the Time Sphere back a few years and we’ll pass the time back then. When we’ve finished, we’ll just shift back here and only a few seconds need have passed in this time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” said Cameo. “Let’s do it!”
***

 

Hundreds of horsemen, their breastplates gleaming in the early morning sunshine, thundered towards a small hedged enclosure on the right wing of the assembled Royalist armies. Oliver Cromwell’s bold move was calculated to use John Okey’s formidable dragoons to punch a hole through the King’s infantry and drive through to harry the enemy from the rear.

However, Cromwell had reckoned without the equally bold Prince Rupert, who staged his own cavalry charge to come to the rescue of his infantrymen and drive Okey’s dragoons back. Little did any of the combatants know that hovering above the battlefield, concealed by a self-generated cloud, was a metal sphere which was a product of a time over three hundred years in the future. And in its cramped confines, a number of figures studied a bank of monitors calibrated to show up the magnetic fields of the men battling for their lives below.

“I think we’re scanning the wrong part of the battlefield, Jeff,” Bonnie said. “I don’t see anything but a whole sea of red. If Rip, Corky or Steve were down there, they’d show up blue.”

“IF this is even working!” grumped Lionheart, whose battle suit was now incorporated into the Time Sphere’s circuitry.

“It should be working,” Cameo said. “We did calibrate it by flying over that village back in 1643, remember?”

“Then where are they? Damn it, we’ve been shuttling back and forth for over two hours now. The battle’s well under way, for God’s sake, and still no sign of them!”

“Those are big armies down there and we can only scan a small area at a time,” Jeff said. “Look, pal, I’m as anxious as you about this – even more so, because Rip and Corky are my friends – but we simply can’t do it any quicker.”

“Can I just suggest something?” said the Bowman. “Ignore the cavalry. If Rip and Steve really have been press-ganged into the army, surely it would be the infantry?”

“Well, Rip is a pretty good horseman, and Steve’s appeared in lots of westerns…”

“Yes, but probably with stunt doubles to do his riding for him,” said Bonnie. “And also, if they’re reluctant draftees, they’d hardly be likely to be given horses, would they? He’s right, Jeff. Swing the scanner ‘way over here, to the roundhead infantry.”

There was an agonizing silence for several moments, and then… “Look!” said Firebrand. “That’s a splash of blue, isn’t it?”

“It might be.” Jeff zoomed in. “Yeah… yeah! TWO splashes of blue! Son of a gun, Rip, you’ve managed to keep that lunkhead Steve Cleaves close to you!”

“Maybe,” said Bonnie. “But in that case, where’s Corky? Or maybe one of those traces IS Corky, in which case is the other one Rip or Steve?”

“We’ll worry about that in a sec,” said the Bowman. “Ready, Jeff?”

Jeff closed a switch. “Opening the door now, Bowman. You sure you’re OK with this?”

“Absolutely.” He stepped onto the bottom rung of a rope ladder starting to extend from the bottom of the door well. “Lower away.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n!”

The ladder slowly winched out, carrying the blue-clad Bowman of Britain through the concealing vapor cloud. As he emerged beneath it, he tugged on a cord to halt his descent and unslung his bow. Selecting two special arrows, he let fly with them. As they struck the ground among the combatants, smoke began to issue from them.

He smiled as the ladder began to descend again. With all the other smoke on the battlefield, no-one would attribute anything unusual to a little more to cover his arrival. And, using the modified scanners, the others would be able to place him right above Rip Hunter and Steve Cleaves.

He could now see vague shapes moving in the smoke. “Rip Hunter!” he cried out. “Rip Hunter! Can you hear me?”

A second or two passed before an American-accented voice answered. “Yeah? This is Rip Hunter? Who’s that?”

The Bowman dropped from the ladder and headed towards the voice. Several men were milling about, indistinct in the smoke, but two stood out as being taller than the rest. One, however, seemed to be supporting the other. “I’m a friend! Jeff sent me!” he called out as he approached them. They suddenly hove into view, and Tom could see that one was, indeed, holding the other up.

“Whoever you are, give me a hand,” said the American. “Steve took a musket ball on the helmet. I don’t think he’s hurt, but he’s only half-conscious.”

“OK.” The Bowman grabbed Steve’s free arm. “This way – although I dunno how we’re going to get him on that ladder like this.” Rip nodded and allowed the masked man to lead the way.

However, just as they reached the ladder, there was a surge of bodies towards them. “Back!” someone yelled. “Back! ‘Tis Prince Rupert’s cavalry! They’ll trample us all!”

Before the Bowman could react, a crowd of men slammed into the three of them and knocked them apart. He went sprawling, losing sight of Rip and Steve in the smoke … and as he struggled to try and regain his feet, he heard the ominous sound of many hoof beats thundering towards him!

This is it! thought Tom. This is finally the end! There was no way he could possibly get out of the way in time, nor any way he could expect help from his fellow heroes in the Time Sphere hovering above. It was unlikely that they were even aware of his peril.

He steeled himself as the thundering hoofs of the Royalist cavalry became so loud that they blotted everything else out. And now he could see them even through the smoke, practically on top of him…

And suddenly there was silence.

“What the hell?” he said aloud. He looked up. One of the horses – a massive stallion – was literally above him, poised to slam its front hooves down on him.

Except that it was frozen in place, like a scene from a paused video!

His head reeling, he scrambled to his feet. “Rip? Rip Hunter?” There was no reply, and the reason why became evident as he found Hunter and his movie-star companion just a few feet away, frozen as still as the charging horses. “What the hell?” he repeated. This didn’t make sense. It was as if time had suddenly stopped!

“I do not know thee, yet thou bearest the mystic Thunderbow – a weapon which, when last I laid my eyes on it, was safe in my sanctum between this world and the next. Explain thyself, mortal!”

Tom started at the voice. He whirled around. “Herne?”

The hooded figure in green robes which stood before him did not move. “Thou clearly knowest me, then? How is this, when thou art a stranger to me?”

Tom’s gulped. It was really HIM! Herne the Hunter, the legendary wizard, or maybe demigod – he wasn’t sure which – who had healed him from his near-fatal injuries months before and presented him with the enchanted Thunderbow, an ancient weapon which was capable of generating magical ‘arrows of the imagination’ as well as firing the trick arrows which he had crafted in honor of his hero, the American crime-fighter Green Arrow. But of course! he thought. Herne is immortal, or at least claims to be. He would naturally exist in this time as well as in the 20th Century.

He pushed back his hood and removed his mask. “My name is Thomas Rhys Archer,” he said. “I’m also known as the Bowman of Britain. I’m from the future, and I carry this bow because you gave it to me … WILL give it to me, that is, over three hundred years from now.”

Herne’s face was invisible beneath the hood, but Tom could sense that he was frowning. The mystic figure raised his right hand and pointed towards Tom a brown palm which seemed to have almost a woody texture. There was silence for a moment.

“A strange tale, my son, yet I sense that thou speakest truly. Thou art indeed one who belongest not in this time and place. How camest thou to this predicament?”

“It’s a long story,” said Tom, “but suffice it to say, I think, that it was an accident. My companions and I were helping to protect England from invaders. It was necessary to employ somewhat drastic measures to repel them, and the backlash flung five of us back in time to here.”

“I see,” said Herne thoughtfully. “And yet it was not thy peril that drew me here, but that of the Thunderbow. Fortunate for thee that I chose to intervene to prevent it from being trampled into the dust by these mortal warriors.” He paused. “But thy presence here is contrary to the natural order of things. Thou and thy companions must immediately depart back whence you came – or suffer the consequences!”

“We’re trying to do just that,” Tom said. “But our first attempt didn’t work. We’re trying to rescue some other time travelers so they can help us.”

Herne approached the frozen Rip Hunter and Steve Cleaves. “Indeed, I sense that these two are also alien to this time,” he said. “As are several others. This cannot be tolerated – all must depart.”

“Then will you help us?” asked Tom. “I need to get these two to safety, and there’s also still one member of their party missing – a boy.”

“I can help thee,” Herne said. “But this displeases me, and an I offer my hand to aid thee, there must be a reckoning – a price to pay. Wouldst thou be willing to pay that price?”

“I…” Tom began uncertainly. “What kind of price? What do you mean?”

“That I will not reveal until it suits me to do so,” said Herne. “But choose! Wilt thou payest my price or no? Choose ere my patience exceeds its bounds. Do not delay!”

Tom took a deep breath. “Very well. I will pay whatever price you exact, to help my comrades. So will you help me find the missing boy, Corky?”

“Is this the one?” Herne gestured and the scene suddenly changed. They were now on a different part of the battlefield, one not shrouded in the smoke from Tom’s trick arrows. An ugly dark-haired man, his helmet tucked under one arm, seemed to be consulting with other men in uniform. A horse, which Tom supposed belonged to that man, stood nearby. Holding its reins was a red-haired, freckle-faced boy in the uniform of a military drummer.

“Yes, he fits the description,” said Tom. But his eyes were drawn to the ugly man. “My God,” he breathed, approaching him. “That’s Oliver Cromwell himself!” His mind raced again. This was the man who would engineer the execution of King Charles I and usher in a temporary era of puritanical republicanism in England. To many he was a hero – the man who had tried to end the British monarchy and usher in a form of democracy long before the revolutions in America or France. To others he was a devil – a tyrant and religious fanatic who would launch a brutal campaign of subjugation and massacre against the Catholics of Ireland, which would in no small way set the stage for all the troubles in that land in the centuries to come.

Despite his earlier entreaties to his comrades of the dangers of changing history, a tempting thought came to Tom’s mind. One arrow, he mused, and I could change all that. I could kill him here and now and alter the course of history. But for good or ill? Who can say?

“No! That is forbidden!” said Herne. Tom stared at him. Had his mystical mentor read his mind? “Thou shalt return to thine rightful place and time and shall not interfere in what transpires here and now!”

The hooded and robed figure gestured once again, and the scene changed for the second time. This time they appeared to be on a hilltop – where, it was difficult to say, but it was obviously nowhere in the vicinity of the battle. The red-haired boy was still in the same position relative to Tom, but no longer holding the reins of a horse. A little beyond him were Rip Hunter and Steve Cleaves, and dangling frozen in the air to his right was a rope ladder. He looked up and saw the Time Sphere hovering above them.

“Herne, what are…?” But Herne was gone. He looked around to see the boy staring at him in disbelief and Hunter and Cleaves also looking baffled but once more animated. Time had restarted again.

Oh, boy, he thought. How in the world am I going to explain THIS?
***

 

“None of this makes sense,” said Steve Cleaves. The Time Sphere had now landed and the assembled Time Masters and Paladins were clustered around it on the hilltop.

“You’re telling me!” Jeff said. “One minute we’re hovering above the battlefield at Naseby and the next we’re over a hundred miles north of there, on the Yorkshire moors.”

“Well, come on, then!” Steve said. “You guys are used to all sortsa weird stuff, right? This kinda thing happens to you all the time, right? So what happened?” He looks really scared, thought Tom. In some ways I don’t blame him, but given his reputation as a movie tough guy, it’s a bit incongruous!

Rip Hunter emerged from the Sphere, now changed into his green uniform. “I’ve checked out the Time Sphere’s systems. Whatever caused us to jump like that, it wasn’t another malfunction.”

“Even if it had been, Rip,” said Corky Baxter, “that doesn’t explain how I ended up with the rest of you. I was with General Cromwell and nowhere near you and Steve.”

Cameo looked at her teammate with a curious expression on her face. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything strange, Bowman?”

“Uh… no,” he lied. “I’m as much in the dark as everyone else.”

“Hmn…” Her eyes narrowed but she did not press the point.

“Look, whatever happened, it’s done us all a favor,” said Lionheart. “Could we all just get out of here and try and figure it out afterwards?”

“That might be the best course of action,” Rip said. “There are clearly some unknown forces at work here, although they do seem to be benign, not hostile.”

“Even so, Rip,” said Bonnie, “we’ve encountered supernatural forces before that have seemed friendly at first but later turned against us. I don’t think we should push our luck here.”

“Supernatural?” scoffed Steve. “That’s bull, babe! Whatever happened back there, there’s gotta be a rational explanation that doesn’t involve some superstitious mumbo-jumbo… doesn’t there?” His eyes appealed to them.

“I’d like to reassure you, Steve,” said Rip, “but we’ve encountered magic and sorcery a number of times in our time travels, and I can tell by the reactions of our friends from the future that they accept its existence, too.”

“You could say that,” said Tom dryly. He wished he could tell them what had really happened, but he had sworn to Herne long before that he would not speak of him. He had decided that the simplest course of action in this case was just to plead ignorance.

“Anyway,” Firebrand said, speaking for the first time, “I hate to agree with Lionheart, but I think getting back to our own times should be getting priority here. We can argue about the existence or otherwise of the supernatural later.”

“You’re right,” said Jeff. “But how do we get you back? When I tried before, you know what happened. The Time Sphere wouldn’t materialize out of the time stream.”

Rip Hunter rubbed his slightly bristly chin. “Maybe there’s a simple reason for that, Jeff.”

“What? I couldn’t figure it out, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the Sphere.”

The blond scientist/adventurer grinned and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t forget, Jeff, that the Sphere is programmed not to materialize if any of its occupants are already present in that time. They’d become immaterial phantoms.”

“Rip – there was no danger of that. I deliberately tried to materialize AFTER our friends left their own time. They weren’t already there.”

“Maybe not. But YOU might have been!”

There was a stunned silence. Then Jeff struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Of course! Heck, how could I have been so dumb as not to think of that? It was ME preventing the Sphere from materializing, not them!”

“So how do we get around that?” said Bonnie. “We can’t know what any of us will be doing in 1987, or even if we’ll still be alive, much less still traveling in time.”

Rip looked thoughtful. “OK. We know Jeff failed to get our friends home, so he’s obviously still around in that time. But we don’t know if I am – or you, Bonnie, or Corky. I’ll try taking them back myself, and come back for the rest of you later. There isn’t room for all of us in the Time Sphere anyway. If I fail, the two of you will each have to try. Hopefully, though, if we are still around in 1987, now that we know about this, my future self can arrange to be away on a time trip at the required time so that my present self will be able to materialize at that time.”

“Come again?” said a confused Lionheart. “Would you care to explain that in plain English?”

“Time travel can be a strain on the language,” said Rip with a smile. “Come on – let’s see if I can get you home.”
***

 

“OK,” Rip said, bending over the Time Sphere’s controls. “We’ve arrived at the time you left, and this confirms what Jeff told me – the Sphere won’t leave the time stream.”

“So what now?” asked Lodestone.

“At this point, Jeff took us forward a few days, then shifted us in space,” Cameo said to Rip.

“And that didn’t work.”

“Obviously not.”

“OK, then, let’s try something different,” Rip said. He worked several controls. “I’m programming a sequence that will jump the Time Sphere forward one day at a time and attempt to exit the time stream after each jump. That way we should at least be able to confirm when it WILL be possible!”

“In how many years’ time?” muttered Lionheart.

“Have faith,” said the Bowman. “Rip knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. But we could still end up not being able to materialize until he dies of old age in the real world.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll have to go back and try something different,” said Rip. “But, as I said before, I should be able to arrange for my older self to leave on a time trip to give us a window in which we can safely materialize.”

“Assuming your ‘older self’ is still traveling in time,” pointed out Firebrand.

Rip sighed. “OK, point to you, miss. I suppose it is possible that I might have retired by then or I’ll have lost the Time Sphere … but once, on a visit to ancient Herculaneum, we came across evidence that a descendent of mine had been there previously in the Sphere. If that’s the case, there should be nothing to stop me doing what I said.”

“Yes, well… I don’t want to put a damper on the mood, Dr. Hunter, but according to your counter we’ve already moved forward more than six weeks since our leaving point,” said Cameo. “The Sphere has tried and failed 45 times now to materialize.”

“46,” said Lodestone. “47…”

“We get the idea,” Lionheart said. “We don’t need a running commentary, thanks.”

Rip shook his head. “If all else fails, I’ll just have to return without you to my own time and contact Superboy for help,” he said. “Maybe he can succeed where I’ve apparently failed.”

“I don’t see how that would work,” said the Bowman. “He’s still around in our time as Superman. He’d have the same problem, surely?”

“Maybe. But I’ve heard a rumor that he has time-traveling friends from the future – much further in the future than you. If he could persuade them to help, that would get around any problems of anyone trying to materialize where they’re already present.”

He rubbed his chin in his characteristic way. “You did mention, however, that great energies were released when you were sent back in time. It may be that they caused a local disruption in the time stream, making time travel impossible for a while. It’s been known to happen elsewhere. However, it usually dies down after a short time. With any luck…”

“Dr. Hunter…” Firebrand was pointing excitedly at the read-outs. “Something’s happening!”

He turned towards them. “Yes, you’re right. We’re materializing. Let’s see… October 31st, 1987… more than four months after you left, but better than nothing.”

“Halloween,” observed Lionheart. “Pretty appropriate, given the weird way that the business at Naseby finished…”

Rip grinned. “OK, folks, here goes. Prepare to say hello to the twentieth century once more!”

At that moment, an indicator flashed, heralding that materialization was complete…

… and Lodestone screamed and fell to the floor of the Time Sphere!
Epilogue

 

Percy Sheldrake, Earl of Wordenshire, sat in his wheelchair and watched the squirrels frolicking among the branches trees which were slowly becoming denuded of leaves. It was a fine day, and he liked to sit here in quiet contemplation when the weather was dry, breathing in the fresh morning air of the castle grounds. Behind him, in the castle itself, he knew that his protégé Perry Redhawk was working on yet another of his machines, another amalgam of Earth and alien technology which he hoped would be able to track what had happened to their comrades.

But they had disappeared in the summer, and now it was the middle of autumn and they still had no idea what had become of Cameo, Firebrand, the Bowman of Britain, Lodestone and Lionheart. The question was occupying Perry’s every waking thought, it seemed. And even Godiva rarely visited now, engaged in her own search with the help of her Global Guardians colleagues. If there still existed a Paladins team, it was very much an inactive one.

It was all his fault, he mused. He had brought the team together, housed it, financed it, encouraged its members to work together. Certainly, Rod Reilly put the blame squarely on him, and so did Edward Stacker. Perhaps it would have been for the best if he had stayed retired. Perhaps…

A sudden humming noise made him look up. Barely twenty yards away, on the castle lawns, something was materializing. “My God!” he said. Are we under attack? he thought. He thumbed a switch on the arm of his chair. “Perry! Come out here quickly and bring David with you!”

The object was now completely solid – a metal sphere on tripod legs. There was what appeared to be a round hatch on its side and at least two round windows. “Remarkable!” he breathed.

Perry Redhawk and Percy’s teenage nephew David were now running towards him from the Keep. They had had no time to costume themselves as the Knight and the Squire, but both bore weapons. “Percy!” cried Perry as he reached the wheelchair-bound man. “What is that thing?”

“I don’t know. Shall we investigate?”

Perry and David both nodded assent and the three proceeded cautiously towards the object. Then, quite suddenly, the hatch opened and a short ladder unfolded. A familiar figure emerged. “My God! Sandie! It’s Sandie!” exclaimed Perry.

Indeed, the new arrival was a black woman clad in a black and white costume. She gestured towards them. “Perry! Percy! Thank God you’re here. Quickly – we need help. It’s Rhea!”

They quickened their pace, hurrying to the sphere as a number of other figures emerged – most of them familiar, but also including a tall blond man in a green and red jumpsuit.

“What happened?” said David. “Where have you all been all this time? We were so worried…”

“No time. We can explain later,” said the Bowman of Britain. He was carrying the limp figure of Rhea Jones in his arms. Her costume looked strangely baggy on her. “We have to get Rhea to a hospital. It’s her baby!”

“Her baby?” said Percy. “She’s lost her baby?”

“No… not lost…” Cameo said. She seemed to have difficulty in finding the words.

“She hasn’t lost her baby,” Firebrand finished for her. Her own voice was shaky, however. “It’s just … gone. One second she was pregnant, the next she wasn’t. It’s as if the baby has simply disappeared from her womb!”