Steven Landry - The Maids of Chateau Vernet

Hiram was second in line as they resumed their hike through the woods, with Sarah just a step behind him. The short woman, Barbara took point in front of him. While her small stature made her an asset in that position◦– he thought her more likely to see someone before they saw her◦– the loaded weapon she carried was the real reason Hiram kept her in sight. He guided her whenever they came to another branch of the deer trails they followed.

Hiram’s C2ID2 held topographical maps of Europe, circa 2050. During his long journey from Wah to Rivesaltes he had learned to compare and contrast the images sent by his aerial drones with the maps, picking his way past man-made and natural obstacles. On occasion he missed one.

Barbara signaled a halt and everyone crouched down, weapons at the ready. Hiram made his way forward to see what had spooked her. A steep embankment that led down to a dirt road below blocked their path. A heavy overhead canopy of oak and maple branches prevented the drone from detecting the obstruction.

He looked up and down the road. Avoiding the exposed climb required a long walk around the embankment. He decided to take a chance. It would be a worthwhile training exercise.

Barbara crossed first. She set up an overwatch position in the woods on the far side of the road to match his own on the near side. One by one, the women clambered down to the road, then scampered across into the forest. Twenty of his soldiers made it across when Hiram heard the sound of a motorcycle.

Ester stood exposed at the bottom of the small cliff. She flattened herself into the shrubs along the roadside as the bike came into view. Too late.

Two French soldiers rode the motorcycle, the driver and a passenger in the sidecar. It roared up the road, then skidded to a halt adjacent to Ester’s position. Hiram didn’t hesitate. He shot both men before they even dismounted.

Concerned that a larger convoy followed the motorcycle, Hiram signaled his soldiers to “Stay down.” He cursed as he flicked an icon on his C2ID2 to switch the drone’s camera from visible to infrared. Infrared made it more difficult to spot natural obstacles, but he missed the cycle’s approach because of that mistake.

The display remained devoid of any other man-made heat sources. He reassured himself that any others nearby would have revealed themselves or fled after he killed the two soldiers.

Hiram turned to the remaining women arrayed along the top of the embankment. “Let’s continue the crossing. Frieda, help Ester move that motorcycle into the woods.” Deborah interpreted his orders and crossed, followed by Hiram. Now he had two dead soldiers and a motorcycle with sidecar to address. The soldiers would be reported missing, and soon. He removed his pack, laid it open on the ground, and activated the portal.

“Deborah, give me a hand. The rest of you keep watch.” They wrestled the soldiers’ bodies through the portal, then turned their attention to the motorcycle. The heavy bike was too big to fit through the portal without first breaking it down into much smaller pieces. Hiram decided to push it further into the woods. The uneven terrain made the move slow but with Deborah at his side, they managed to get the motorcycle out of view from the road. As an added precaution, Hiram covered the bike with a camouflage net from his pod. After deactivating the portal, Hiram lingered over the bag. He scolded himself for his mistake.

Deborah put a hand on his shoulder. “We should keep moving,”

Barbara continued to walk point, followed by Hiram and Sarah. Deborah followed ten meters behind Sarah, close to Hiram in case he needed a translator. Danette walked behind Deborah. Ester took up the rear, almost three hundred meters back. From the moment he had handed her the M22, she seemed the most comfortable.

“Your pod and the weapons inside are beyond my comprehension,” Sarah said. “The existence of such things is a physical impossibility.”

“And yet they exist,” Hiram said.

“Well yes, but how? Where do they come from?”

Hiram expected this question and had formulated an answer reasonably close to the truth, but decades off in timing. “Have you ever heard of the Skunk Works?”

Sarah remained silent for a moment. “I don’t think so. Of course, military equipment like yours probably isn’t presented in the university’s physics texts just yet.”

“Were you a student?”

Sarah stopped, reached out a hand to Hiram. “Sarah Mandelson. I used to teach physics at the University in Paris.”

The greeting shocked him out of focus. Hiram shook the woman’s hand. Once he let go, she returned her attention to the woods around her and continued walking. Hiram did the same.

“So, tell me about this Skunk Works ,” she continued in English.

“It’s an American weapons development facility◦– top secret. I’ve been told they employ the best scientists of our time.”

“Like Albert Einstein?” she asked.

“People like him, although I’m not sure if he’s involved himself. Oppenheimer is the guy in charge.” In 1942, the Manhattan Project was still in its infancy and he doubted Sarah had any knowledge of it.

“J. Robert Oppenheimer? The professor from Berkeley? I met him once,” Sarah said. “An astrophysicist, isn’t he?”

Hiram winced. He had no intention of building a myth on unstable ground. “Maybe. You have to forgive me. I’m a simple soldier of fortune. I know how to make the portal work and access the pod, not how it actually functions.”

“Its resources seem to be limitless,” she replied.

“Essentially, they are. The pod resets itself each time I open the portal, unless I tell it not to. Every time I enter, the weapons magazines and larders are full. It’s quite handy, unless you get stuck inside.” Hiram remembered his growing panic right after the Wah incident.

“Does that happen often?” Sarah said.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Only happened to me once. You’ve got about six hours before you start getting really sick. Stay beyond nine and you can kiss your ass goodbye.”

“Too bad we can’t all travel through the portal to somewhere else,” Sarah said.

“It would certainly make life easier if we could.” Hiram shrugged. “No sense worrying about it I guess. We have to make the best of the tools we have, and the pod is a quite useful tool.” But will it be enough?

“Except you are the only one who can use it.” Sarah ducked under a tree branch as they walked. “If anything happens to you, we’ll have to kiss all of our,” she paused as if trying to find the right words, “all of our asses goodbye.”

0800 hours, Thursday, July 9, 1942, south of Périllos, Pyrénées-Orientales Department, Vichy France

“Set the device by depressing the switch.” He handed the C2ID2 auxiliary display to Ellen. “When the sensor detects a change in the surrounding environment you’ll be notified here.” He waved his hand over the device and the monitor chirped. On the screen, a small red dot flashed in correlation to their current location on the map. Several green indicators were spread out on the view, all idle.

“What about this one?” Ellen pointed to the blue dot.

“The blue dot is the location of the C2ID2 monitor. The green ones are surveillance bots set up around camp. You want to make sure you and the monitor are well out of range before setting off one of the charges.” He sent Ellen off with the monitor and Rosette and Barbara off with additional simulated satchel charges.

Deborah sat down on the ground beside Hiram. She handed him a protein bar◦– this one labeled blackened tuna. He cringed, recalling the last time he’d tasted the so-called tuna, but accepted the snack. “They are learning well?”