William Wu: Emperor

R. Hunter sat in the office chair of Mojave Center Governor, the robot he had been assigned to reassemble. Hunter had to decide what appearance to use on his next mission. He wore his usual northern European physiognomy now, with short blond hair and blue eyes. A brawny six feet six inches tall, he had been designed with the ability to change his shape and appearance at will and might have to do so for the next trip back into the past, to China in 1290.

First, however, he would discuss the question with the humans on his team. His internal clock told him the time was 6:49 P.M. They were having dinner now and would join him here soon.

After four previous missions into the past, Jane Maynard, the roboticist, and Steve Chang, the general assistant, had a routine established now. Since their return last night from the outskirts of Moscow in 1941, they had each had a good night’s sleep. They had spent the day relaxing in Mojave Center, this new underground city in the Mojave Desert. Then Jane had called Hunter about an hour ago to say they were meeting for dinner before coming to see him.

While they rested, Hunter had hired a historian who specialized in China during the time of Kublai Khan to join the team. Marcia Lew had arrived from her home in Houston a short time ago. She had agreed to join Hunter here soon to meet the rest of the team.

Hunter had been especially designed and built to lead the search for Mojave Center Governor, the missing experimental gestalt robot who was supposed to be running Mojave Center. However, without warning, he had abandoned his responsibilities. MC Governor had divided into the six component gestalt humaniform robots out of which he was comprised and vanished.

Each gestalt robot had fled back in time to a different era. Hunter had led his team of humans on successful missions in pursuit of the first four component robots. Now they stood here in the office of MC Governor, merged and shut down, waiting for the last two in order to complete the Governor robot again.

“Hunter, city computer calling. The Governor Robot Oversight Committee is waiting for you on a conference call.”

“Excellent. Please connect me.”

The faces of the four Committee members appeared on Hunter’s internal video screen in split portrait shots. As usual, they did not waste any time with social amenities. They exchanged greetings briefly, then Hunter got right to his report.

“MC 4 has been joined to the first three components who were already in custody,” said Hunter.

“You’re as efficient as ever,” said Dr. Redfield, the tall blonde. She smiled approvingly. “You’ve progressed so quickly that I suppose it has been fairly easy for you.”

“As I have said before, this does not predict the difficulty of the next challenge. I still cannot guarantee that the remainder of my work will be completed at the same speed.”

“Where was MC 4?” Dr. Chin cocked her head to one side, looking at him with curiosity. “Nearby, this time?”

“In western Russia,” said Hunter. He had not informed them of the time travel device and hoped that the necessity of doing so would not arise. He was deliberately vague in his reports. So far, his rapid success had satisfied them.

“We have very little to criticize.” Professor Post stroked his black beard for a moment. “Nothing, in fact, that I can see. Where do you expect to go next?”

“I have a lead in East Asia,” said Hunter.

“Really?” Dr. Chin said. “This is quite a change in geography.”

“I have only preliminary information,” Hunter said cautiously.

“Your information has always been good,” said Dr. Khanna, speaking with his Hindi accent. “Your success could not have come about so quickly otherwise.”

“I feel I must repeat that I can make no guarantee of my progress to come,” said Hunter.

“Yes, yes,” said Dr. Khanna impatiently. “You say that every time we speak with you. I will ask you the same question I posed last time. Do you have any reason to believe that the next mission will be more difficult than the previous ones?”

“I can only rephrase my original point,” said Hunter. “I cannot predict the challenges that my team will face.”

“We note your caution,” said Dr. Chin. “And, as always, we wish you good luck.”

“I’m satisfied, Hunter,” said Dr. Redfield. “Maybe we should let you get on with your duties.”

“I agree,” said Hunter. “Do you have any more questions?”

No one did.

“Good luck,” said Professor Post.

“Thank you. Good-bye.” Hunter broke the connection. He could hear footsteps approaching the office door and recognized Steve’s and Jane’s patterns. “Come in,” he called out, before they knocked.

Jane came in first, grinning. “Hi, Hunter.” She shook her head, and her rich brown hair swayed. “Even after all the time we’ve spent together, you still surprise me sometimes. Was it our footsteps, our heartbeats, our voice patterns, or…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what else.”

“I recognized your footsteps,” said Hunter.

Steve came in behind Jane. “Evening, Hunter.”

“Good evening. How does your head wound feel?”

Steve grinned. “I wouldn’t call it a wound, exactly. I still have a bump on my head, but that painkiller I got last night from R. Cushing took care of the headache.”

“I contacted Cushing today, and he told me your medication will remain in effect for several days. At the end of that time, he expects you will be healed to a point where further medication is unnecessary. Do you feel well enough to join us for the mission to find MC 5?”

“Yes. I’ll be fine. But I want to discuss whether you need me or not. Before the last mission, I wanted out because I didn’t feel I was necessary.”

“Oh, not again,” said Jane. “We’re a team. We don’t have to talk you into going again, do we?”

“I’m not mad like I was last time,” said Steve. “But I don’t want to be taken for granted, either. Hunter, we know a nuclear explosion has eliminated Beijing, and you told us we’re going to the time of Kublai Khan. I followed the news for a while myself this afternoon. But do you need me or not?”

“Yes, I believe so,” said Hunter, as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. “My concern is how to blend in with the local people as much as possible. I hired a historian named Marcia Lew who-”

“Right here,” said a woman’s voice.

Jane and Steve moved out of the way and Marcia came into the office. A young woman of Chinese descent, she wore a fashionable and precisely tailored black business suit. Her shoulder-length black hair was simply parted in the middle. She offered her hand to Jane and Steve in turn, as they introduced themselves.