To the Time Machine! - Part 8

Yes, I know I skipped Part 7. But time travel stories do not have to be read in order.

BUIES CREEK - The Past, just before the Dark Times

Dossey keyed in his access codes, and the door to his office split into several, uneven pieces, then slid out of the way into recesses in the walls. He entered, and Lorma Doom followed.

She looked around. It was a normal office. Somehow she had expected more. He did not even have a proper desk - it was more a large, low table.

"Rockel, show yourself," the Dossey said, and it took a second for Lorma to realize he was not speaking to her.

Just when she began to doubt the Dossey's sanity, she located the target of Dossey's command. Two human-looking eyes popped opened on the desk and looked right at Lorma Doom, whose jaw dropped.

"How'd you know I was there?" the displeased desk fussed at Dossey.

"I didn't," Dossey answered. "I just always say that when I enter a room now, just in case. After the last incident."

"Figures," the desk grumbled. The desk stood up and Lorma jumped back.

The table-desk transformed before her eyes. It was not a desk at all, but a person wearing a desk. This must be Rockel, Lorma decided, whatever a Rockel was. She had been to a Rockel Day celebration once at a bar. But the Empire was so large, it was impossible for one operative to know every other operative.

Rockel stretched, his muscles sore from holding on position for so long.

"This is Lorma Doom," Dossey told him. "Doom, this is the Rockel. He's one of our assassins, and a prototype cyborg."

Lorma and Rockel made a few attempts to shake hands, but Rockel's desk-like armor (or armor-like desk) made it difficult. They finally managed a bit of a hand jive, and left it at that.

"How are you supposed to assassin,” she asked him, “if you can't even properly use your hands?"

"I'm still working out the kinks," Rockel explained. "But I can use my drawer."

"Your drawer?" she repeated. "I don't even want to know how you open your drawer."

"So how do you know the Dossey?" Rockel asked, trying to inconspicuously adjust his drawer.

They were interrupted by a scratching at the door. The three of them turned to see what Lorma first took to be a man standing in the entrance to the office, but on second glance there was more to him. His eyes were yellow, and too big for his head. His skin was green and scaly. And his tongue, which was tasting the air even now, was forked. Other than those small details, he appeared normal, and was even dressed in a shirt and tie.

"You wanted to sssseee me?" he said, his glittering eyes fixed on Mr. Dossey.

"Yes, I ---" He looked around for a second, then frowned at his desk. "Rockel!" Rockel felt around on his desk body for a second, then found and handed Dossey a clipboard.

"Thank you," Dossey said, taking it and reading it over his glasses. "RFS, this young lady was cornered, attacked, and nearly killed by three of your charges this morning. Why were your raptors running loose in Ellis?"

RFS's yellow, slit-like eyes peered at Dossey. "I wassss not aware," he said. He bowed his head a bit in Lorma's direction. "My apologiesssss. I will sssseee to it immediately."

"See that you do," Dossey replied.

"Who isss the female?" the man-lizard stared at Lorma, as if transfixed by her mien.

"This female can speak for herself, Scales," Lorma said, sticking out her chest, exhibiting dominant behavior, a trick she remembered from watching raptor trainers in her own time.

The lizard man looked at her for a moment, his tongue flicking out to wet one of his bulbous eyes.

"Gross," Lorma grimaced at the sight of it.

"Grossss to you, perhapssss" the RFS hissed, "but essssential to eyessssight for me.”

“Be polite,” Rockel patted his arm cannon, his voice traced with warning.

The scaly man looked to Rockel, then back to Lorma. “My name is not Ssscalesss. My proper dessssignation is Jacob D. Ssssanderssson. My function is Reptilian Forces Supervisor.” He said. “A pleasssure to meet you, warm blood.” Lorma thought the way he said warm blood made it sound like a swear word.

“Sanderson?” said Lorma. “I don’t recognize that name from the historical records.”

“That issss because my name hasss been changed to prevent possssible litigation,” RFS Sanderson explained.

“Here are the details of this morning’s attack,” Dossey handed him the incident report off the clipboard. Sanderson glared at the document. "That will be all," Dossey told him.

“It wassss not necessssary to report thissss incident,” Sanderson showed his fangs a little when he talked this time. “We could have kept thisssss off the grid.”

“I don’t think so. Your raptor population is growing too large and too difficult to control,” Dossey retorted. “One might suspect you’re not even trying to keep them in line. They very nearly have the run of the town.”

RFS Sanderson hissed, rotated his eyes from Dossey to Rockel and finally to Lorma Doom where they focused for a moment. A second, inner eye lid slid shut over his eyes, and then opened again. Finally, he hissed, bobbed his head once, and was gone.

"The Empire has been experimenting with hybridization of humans with reptiles," Dossey explained to a grossed out Lorma. "The process has never been solid. It's a tricky business. With mixed results, obviously," he said, indicating where Jacob had been standing a moment ago.

The idea of human and animal crossbreeding made Lorma's stomach queasy.

"The subjects are all volunteers," Dossey assured her.

"We're all volunteers," Rockel chimed in. "Whether we like it or not."

"There is some truth in that," Dossey admitted.

"However, transhuman augmentation is the next step of human evolution," Rockel told her, proudly. "But my preference is cybernetics. Give me robot parts, but don't monkey around with my genes."

Before they could debate the merits of augments, the lights above them flashed red. The most ungodly, keening, screeching, grating siren filled the ears of all present.

"Something's tripped the alarm," Rockel announced.

"Sorry," Dossey apologized for Rockel, "he's programmed to state the obvious." Rockel frowned at Dossey.

"Can you tell what set it off?" Dossey asked him.

"No, my modem is non-operational," Rockel explained, "at the moment."

They rushed out to the control center. A single light on the alarm board was blinking red.

Rockels’ cybernetic eyes zoomed in to read the map labels. "Looks like its coming from the courtyard," he observed.

As one, they turned and looked through Dossey’s office, out the window, at the courtyard. As one, they ducked when that window disintegrated before their eyes. A leafy tendril exploded into the room, shot past them, sprouted into the hall, and sent runners in both directions out of sight.

Dossey peeked over the console to spy the source of the disturbance and was surprised to see a giant plant stalk writhing before him. "Botany," he said, "is afoot."

Lorma Doom unfurled her Ax. "Perhaps," she said, "but not today."

That day, Rockel and Dossey witnessed their first ever Justice Chop.

The great trunk was severed. Plant goop covered the entire room. The very building foundations shook with a terrible roar that could only be described as photosynthetic.

The massive stem retracted in pain back into the courtyard.

No sooner had the Imperial trio stood, they had to duck again. The ceiling above them was suddenly and violently ripped away.

They gaped up through the gaping hole. Smiling down at them was monster plant, as tall as the building, with a smile as wide as a trailer.

And it licked its leafy lips at them.

Rockel's drawer fell open, spilling pens, pencils, and loose change across the office floor.