Winds of Time

By Bruce Alan Humphrey

Author Bruce Alan Humphrey creates a fascinating world where medieval mores and cutting-edge technology converge. Winds of Time tells the gripping tale of Tarl Cray who is on a mission to reunite his homeland. The nation has been divided into intensely territorial sovereignties with intermittent violence and chaos. Barter trade for survival is the only civil exchange between factions. Now, an outside force is threatening to take over the one time great but now battle-weary country. Can Tarl, imbued with the ability to metamorphose into anyone, convince the warlords to reunite and face the impending larger threat? Immerse yourself in Winds of Time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 21, 2005
• ISBN: 9781462844265

Bruce Alan Humphrey

The mettle of man is distinguished by his courage and humility. I'm a dreamer and world of imagination is in my hands, the universe begins at my feet. Imagination guides the world and gives us hope for the future. The biggest influence in my life for writing was my teachers. We read books such as: To Kill a Mockingbird, The Odyssey, and Great Expectations and stories such as To Build a Fire, my favorite, and The Most Dangerous Game which demonstrate man’s ability to overcome extreme adversity. For eighteen years I made museum quality twelfth inch scale houses.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Except for the sound of Tari Cray’s heels on the concrete floor, the corridor was devoid of life. Only the occasional gray steel door broke the monotonous sterile white walls. One of them was his destination. Bright lights overhead illuminated the corridor to the point that he had to squint slightly. The smell of antiseptics thickened the air to the point of choking off the oxygen. His impatience to conclude the journey made the walk seem twice as long. Briefed at length about the mission he volunteered for, Tarl thought about the drugs introduced into his body over the last several weeks along with their inevitable result. The thought of being able to change his physical appearance at a moment’s notice attacked his psyche with both fascination and apprehension.

A door, with number 223, came into view on the left side of the hall. A rectangular opening in the wall adjacent to the door housed a small white screen. Laying his hand on it palm down, he watched a thin line of blue-white light slowly pass beneath his palm. Because of the massive ultrasophisticated computer located in another room of the complex, the transition between placing his palm on the screen and confirmation of his identity was instantaneous. The door slid open with a nearly imperceptible sound. Tarl entered a room as sterile as the corridor. The cool fresh air in the room was a relief, and he took a deep breath. In front of him was a long brown conference table where three men in white lab coats sat. A fourth man at the head of the table wore a tailored brown business suit. Standing, he smiled and extended a hand in welcome. The other three stood as well.

Welcome back, Tarl, the man said with an enthusiastic tone.

Tarl stepped forward to the table and shook his hand, Thank you, sir.

Tarl greeted the others in the same cordial manner, but he already knew them extensively, all geniuses in their respective field of studies.

The first, Dr. Ruer, a pioneer in the effect of artificial toxins in the human body, was the first to find a cure for cancer. However, his monumental discovery had disastrous overtones. The breakup of the nation twenty-five years before allowed him to do his research unhindered. Governmental agencies set up to protect the populace disappeared allowing skeptical practices to escalate. Several thousand people were seriously sickened during experiments, adding to their misery. For an unfortunate or fortunate few, death was the only outlet. Although, throughout his experiments he somehow retained his ethics toward people, it was not surprising that he met any gratitude with indifference.

The second, Dr. Schillar, a professor of anatomical research, created the ultimate prosthetic. It was also common knowledge in the complex about the motives of his pursuit. Schillar lost both of his arms when his office collapsed around him during an earthquake while visiting the west on a fact-finding mission. The man worked for years afterward using only his mind and his assistants’ hands to assemble his dream. What he and his assistants succeeded in creating was more than just metal framework, cables, and plastic. Schillar discovered a method of regenerating human flesh and bone. Moreover, he was able to coax it into the proper parameters for replacing not only his crushed limbs but other vital organs as well, mostly for the upper class of society.

The third gentleman was Dr. Matis, an expert in cardiology; and like the others, his claim to fame centered around the first fully functional artificial heart. in fact, Tarl knew the Matis’s heart would go on beating even after the remainder of the body had ceased to live. This had great advantages and disadvantages. On the plus side, it extended life and its quality. The reverse was it would not cease. Brain-dead people or those with bodies rendered useless had to endure the pain of living for a very long time. Due to a childhood accident, Tarl had one of these hearts beating in his chest.

The man in the suit at the head of the table was Jonathan Fitzhugh, a late middle-aged man with thick graying hair and rough hands. His suit fit him well covering a moderately large frame and causing it to stretch when he reached out his hand. Taller than Tarl by about three inches, he looked down slightly over a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. His voice was deep and bore the tone of command. Fitzhugh trained Tarl and was given the project by the council.

Tarl greeted each man with a handshake and smile before sitting in the chair opposite the three. Mr. Fitzhugh brought them together to give them a final briefing on the project. He began by saying, Thank you for coming, gentlemen. He continued to talk without pause, It is time to tell you why your talents have been needed. Our nation is about to be invaded.

The attentive look on each doctor’s face, as well as Tarl’s, abruptly changed to shock. Never before in the history of the country had a foreign aggressor violated its shores.

i can see by the look on your faces that you are a bit surprised. Well, i can assure you when i first read the report from our overseas agent i was just as shocked. it seems one of our rival governments has decided to take advantage of our country’s breakup.

Dr. Matis asked quickly, Why? For what reason?

Fitzhugh answered him directly, Same reason as a lot of invasions down through history. Power. Greed. Survival.

Survival! Dr. Ruer interjected. Exactly what kind of survival are we talking about, Mr. Fitzhugh?

Survival of their government or their way of life?

Our agent says that it is most definitely the latter.

Fitzhugh told him, The four-year drought and famine in that part of the world coupled with its bad relations with its neighbors has sent it down a road of desperation. It chose the most vulnerable in its line of vision. And since it is a world power it has focused on us.

Why just us? an agitated Matis blurted out. Why not those neighboring countries you spoke of?

Fitzhugh answered him quietly trying to calm the doctor, Probably because if the neighbors knew our new enemy conquered us they would suddenly become friendly, which in turn would strengthen our enemy’s position in the world order.

The doctor sat back in his seat with a worried look on his face. He now realized that this new aggressor had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Fitzhugh continued his briefing, Chiefly, they are after our vast resources in agriculture which would alone give them immense power, which it did for us at one point in time. I also need to remind you of what has happened to the nation’s military after our demise. Our region has less than a quarter of our nation’s original fighting force, which, against the forces our enemies have amassed, will last about as long as it takes them to open fire.

They are coming from the east, aren’t they, sir? Tarl asked.

Yes, Tarl, I’m afraid they are, Fitzhugh replied.

Fitzhugh’s briefing told them why and where they were coming from, now the only question was when.

Without a heartbeat in between questions, Tarl asked, How long before they attack?

Our agent suspects from the buildup in forces at their air and naval bases, possibly two weeks.

Two weeks! Tarl shouted. And just what is my mission!

With the calmness of a well-schooled diplomat, Fitzhugh answered Tarl, Simple, reorganize the other sectors by replacing their leaders or convince them the threat is genuine.

Raising his voice to almost a shout, Tarl sarcastically said, Oh, is that all! And just how am I supposed to do that? You know that a couple of those regions have turned into hell on Earth! The far western section is probably the worst with its totalitarian government. I’ve seen reports of people whipped into herds like animals in communal settlements, kept alive only to service the upper class. The northern and central regions are relatively calm except for some sporadic pockets that flair up now and then, but they are mostly in the outer fringes, away from the central government.

Fitzhugh took a deep breath, and with the tonal drone of a cold professional, he said, You are to infiltrate the command structure of each region and, with the use of your new talent and judgment, either convince or dispose of the ruler and assume the position. If you have to replace the ruler you will inform your peoples of the impending invasion.

Tarl was dumbfounded upon learning of his mission.

You expect me to do all that in two weeks?

No, not exactly, Fitzhugh told him, you probably have a little more time than you think. The region to our north is relatively peaceful, largely due to the low population. You will concentrate your efforts there first. If you can get them to help, that will give you time to work on the worse areas.

One thing, Tarl said, how can I leave the leadership without it reverting back to the way it was?

Fitzhugh answered him in a straightforward manner, You haven’t been informed of this for reasons which will be obvious when I tell you. The most violent and the more strict provinces have deputy commanders. They are your colleagues among others. We sent them in four months ago when we first learned of our enemies’ intentions. Since then, they have completed their objectives exactly as you must. In addition, through subversion, they have gained the confidence of the populace.

Tarl interjected quickly, Well, why can’t they assume leadership?

Their initial mission was to learn all they could about the deputy commander, eliminate him, and then assume his position. If they just tried to move in they would be recognized and killed instantly by the security forces.

Tarl sat back in his chair and smiled, Okay, you’ve given me all the information i need. it won’t be easy, but I’ll take care of it.

Fitzhugh finished the initial briefing, saying, i must reiterate the importance of using the people against the leader in the bad province. Our men report it will take only the slightest nudge to turn them against their ruler, at least in the more violent sector. Fitzhugh’s last orders calmed Tarl. However, the prospect of infiltrating the worst dominion on the planet did not fill him with confidence. Tarl ran his fingers through his hair and scratched his head, thinking. A wave of skepticism swept through his mind. He knew his skill as an agent was good but was it enough.

Fitzhugh spoke, Tarl, I can see that you’re a little troubled with this assignment, why don’t you try out your special ability. i know you’ve used it in the testing program, but I would like to see it out of the controlled conditions of the lab.

Tarl thought to himself for a second. Why not? He liked the feeling of being invisible walking into a crowded room. In addition, once in the form of another person he could even sound like him.

Rising out of his seat, Tarl walked to the far end of the table and stood. The doctors and Fitzhugh watched as he closed his eyes and relaxed his body.

Breaking Tarl’s concentration, Dr. Ruer spoke up. Hold it a second. Looking at Fitzhugh, he said, I think we should give his new abilities the ultimate test.

Good point. Fitzhugh reached down and touched a button on the intercom next to his arm on the table. A soft feminine voice emanated from it, Yes, Mr. Fitzhugh?

Kareen, will you please come in here, I need your opinion on something.

Yes, sir. I’ll be right in.

Now, Mr. Cray, see if you can fool her.

Tarl looked at Fitzhugh and smiled.

Again, he calmed himself and concentrated.

The door slid open, and Kareen Loi, a woman in her midtwenties, stepped into the room. She had a sweet lovely face with a petite and very shapely figure.

Yes, Mr. Fitzhu … her voice trailed off when she saw the man at the end of the table. A smile blossomed on her face turning it into a vision of magnificent splendor.

Roger!

Kareen sprinted to Tarl, her feet barely touching the ground long enough to push her onward. Jumping into his arms, she forced her lips onto his, kissing him passionately. Fitzhugh and the doctors smiled both for Tarl’s success in the transformation and the kiss he was receiving. Tarl tried to return the compliment as best as he can, but Kareen began to notice something. It was not Roger. She stopped suddenly and looked into Tarl’s eyes. They were brown instead of blue. Instantly she released him and dropped to the floor. She stared intently at the man she thought was her fiancé, Roger, is that you? She said uneasily, staring intensely into his eyes.

No, Kareen, it’s Tarl, Fitzhugh informed her.

Tarl? Kareen said demonstratively.

She stared at Tarl with unbelieving eyes. He smiled with the sort of grin that had a tinge of mischief in it. Before Dr. Ruer could stop her, Kareen lunged forward. Tarl tried to cover up, but he’s not quite quick enough. Kareen’s fist met his body just below the breastbone. Tarl’s brown eyes widened to their extreme limit before closing. He doubled over due to the stunning effect of the hit, almost kneeling to the floor before regaining his strength. Still holding his midsection, he looked up at her in amazement. How can a girl so petite hit so hard?

Kareen! Fitzhugh said loudly. Kareen, calm down please. The two doctors holding her removed their grip as she calmed. She breathed hard from the anger within her. Fire still burned in her eyes. Only after she heard Fitzhugh telling her to calm down did it diminish. Tarl hastily retreated into his former self. Kareen turned quickly to face her boss with an angry stare. Without hesitation, he held up his hand to stifle her next comment. He stood in a gesture of respect for her, I’m sorry I tested you in this way, Kareen, but we had to make sure Tarl’s abilities were absolute. Please forgive me.

Looking at Tarl again, who was still trying to recover, she began to understand his reasoning. Straightening her clothes, Kareen quickly inhaled and let the air slowly escape to relax her, then brushed off some imaginary lint for a distraction. She looked at Fitzhugh. Holding one hand in the other, she lay them across her lap and said in a subdued voice, Yes, sir.

You may go now, and thank you.

She turned to leave. As she did, Tarl voiced his astonishment, How can a woman so little pack that kind of a punch?

Upon that comment, Kareen turned as she walked toward the door and smiled at him as if to say, That’ll teach ya.

Evidently, the punch gave Tarl a bit of amnesia. As soon as it cleared, he would have remembered that Fitzhugh trained Kareen in martial arts. And since Fitzhugh had a penchant for excellence, it stood to reason she would be the best.

Well, now that we know you have an exceptional ability, we will continue.

Tarl sat in his chair, still trying to shake the effects of the hit, as did the doctors. Not one for procrastinating, Fitzhugh proceeded with the briefing, Next, your transportation. His interest peaked, Tarl raised his eyebrows. In order to move from place to place in the time allotted he would need something that was fast.

You will be using a new prototype the men and women in the tech lab have just finished.

How fast is it? Tarl asked.

I have the specifications here on the table. Fitzhugh pulled a sheet of paper from under the others in front of him and handed it to Dr. Ruer who gave it to Tarl. Having read it previously, he continued, Top speed is five hundred miles an hour.

What’s going to protect me from the observation screens of the warring sectors?

If you’ll read further you will see that it has an exceptional stealth capability. Tarl read while his boss talked.

It is invisible when in operation. The propulsion system is a secret, even to me, but I am told it is utterly silent and cool.

cool? Tarl glanced up and said inquisitively.

Yes, which means to say there is no hot exhaust for a missile to lock on in the unlikely event of detection and that can’t happen unless you, for some inexplicable reason, forget to turn the stealth device on. However, since it is undetectable there was no need for offensive or defensive weapons. It was designed specifically for concealment.

Fitzhugh added a little emphasis onto his next remark to Tarl, Once you have begun your mission with the help of this Tedis and your transmutation ability, Mr. Cray, you will be invisible.

Tarl looked up from his reading to look at Fitzhugh. Amazement shone on his face—amazement and confidence.

CHAPTER TWO

Fitzhugh, a man of deep thoughts and grandiose ambitions, sat alone in his office after the meeting with his top agent. Three years of meticulous planning went into his scheme. The assembling of the doctors, the advance agents sent into the sectors, the corrupting of subordinates—all had gone according to schedule. Now the ultimate test was at hand. Cray’s mission would tell him if his takeover of the sectors would succeed. Absentmindedly he twirled an AIM pen in his fingers—a writing tool used to write on the screen of his artificial intelligence machine. He thought of all the variables in his plan. Fitzhugh wondered if his operatives in the northeast and Midwest would hold to their bargains of backing him as president of the newly formed government. Or if his association with the King Palei in the west would hold. He had promised the king he could rule directly beneath his presidency. He would deal with Palei’s brutal attitudes later. A recurring thought entered his head, the reason he wanted to rule. Anger caused him to put pressure on the pen between his fingers. The encasing plastic cracked under his strength. He would rule as his father had. Use an iron fist behind a veil of compassion. Use power to create a legacy and build a nation to greatness. His father had tried before the nation disintegrated, but the last president executed him for his efforts. Fallon then erased all of his contributions from history. Fitzhugh would restore his father’s dreams and once again make the nation great.

Tarl walked to the tech hangar at the far end of the complex. Informed and supplied for the mission, he could now focus on his objectives. The first of the sectors was one of two that were relatively peaceful. He should have no problems there. Transmutation may not be needed. It was the last sector where he must be careful. Mr. Fitzhugh said his operatives were in place in the command structure. He must make contact with them without delay.

Since his arrival, the complex had become alive with activity. Technicians, scientists, and general lab personnel strolled or walked quickly past him. It took Tarl several turns into different corridors to reach the hangar. Its white double doors swung freely as people entered and exited. He wasted no time in pushing open the door.

The hangar was huge, large enough to house an old-style stadium within its confines. corrugated steel sheathed the walls. An intricate structure of steel beams overhead kept the earth from burying the occupants. Experimental Tedis dotted the hangar floor; however, he was here for one in particular. Standing just inside the entrance, he scanned the interior looking for his objective. A booming voice spoke from his right, Hey you!

Tarl turned to see a man in navy blue overalls, white shirt, and tie with a hard hat in his hand.

Put this on. Tossing it to Tarl, he walked away. Tarl caught it but tucked them under his arm instead of wearing them. Scanning the interior, his eyes settled on four or five lab-jacketed gentlemen in the far right corner. They were standing next to a tedis that could be his to use. Tarl made strong strides almost trotting to the corner. As he maneuvered around the tail of a strange-looking airplane, the tedis aircraft came into full view. It was metallic, almost silvery in color. A small canopy encompassed the front third; the remainder was metal. There were no engines visible, but there were tail fins for stability in flight.

One of the men spoke, Tarl Cray?

Yes, Tarl affirmed.

My name is John.

Just John? Tarl asked as he shook the extended hand.

For now, that’s all you need to know, John answered with a smile.

Yes, sir! Tarl said with a smile of anticipation. What’s this?

This is our latest creation. It has no name but its official designation prototype is A51. John went on to introduce the three men who were standing next to the tedis.

This is Bob, Jim, and Pete.

The men smiled at Tarl in acknowledgment of his presence to which Tarl returned the compliment. John moved to the point quickly. He pressed a small panel that was only an outline in the skin next to the canopy. A section just large enough for a person to crawl through slid upward. John invited Tarl, Step in.

Tarl stepped through the opening. It was small, just enough room for two seats and the control panel in front of them. Tarl sat in the seat farthest from the door. John climbed in and sat in the vacant chair and began the explanation of the controls, Now if you’ll notice these controls are set up to make control as simple to operate as an old-fashioned car. Reaching up John pushed a button that closed the door. It slid shut silently. He then motioned the men in the hangar to back away.

First thing to do is establish a voice-activation print., he told Tarl. Now when I push this button I want you to state your name clearly.

John reached up and touched a white button on the top of the panel. Tarl complied, My name is Tarl Cray.

Good. You are now the only one who can turn this thing on. Since no one is capable of copying your voice inflections no one can steal it if you happen to leave it in the open.

Tarl gave John a smirk. Pointing to a blue button on the lower right quarter of the control panel, John said, Now push this button. Tarl complied. A soft hum filled the cabin. He looked around to find the source. John said clearly, "You won’t find it.

And if you must know where it’s coming from it’s behind us. Also turning the power off does not mean the ship drops from the sky. The computer senses the ship’s altitude and adjusts the fall rate accordingly."

Tarl turned his head to look behind him. There was a blank wall with no obvious entry. Not wanting to answer any questions on it, John persisted in his explanations, Now if you will notice all seems to be normal inside. Correct?

Tarl didn’t answer the man, instead he watched intently.

Now watch exactly what I do, John pushed a small sliding button upward. Instantly the outside world through the canopy became blurry. It stayed that way for several seconds before becoming clear again.

John announced confidently, We are now invisible.

It’s that simple? Tarl asked in astonishment.

That simple, was the reply. All of the controls are connected into a prototype computer behind the wall. It handles all of your commands without the slightest hesitation.

Utterly amazed at its simplicity, due mostly to the ultrasophisticated planes he flew earlier in his life, Tarl prompted John on how it flew.

That is just as simple. He pointed to a large square panel with numbered buttons, one through zero. Using this panel you simply punch in a series of coordinates we will provide you with. The computer will then guide the ship effortlessly to its destination. Or if you prefer, he pushed another button and a joystick protruded from the center of the panel. Tarl’s curious nature asked one too many questions.

What makes it fly?

It operates exactly like an aircraft with one obvious change.

What’s that? Tarl inquired.

It operates on the principal of magnetic repulsion. Tarl raised an eyebrow in disbelief. You mean it repels the Earth’s natural gravity and lifts the machine.

Correct.

How do you steer it?

John’s response was short, terse, and to the point, Push the stick forward. That makes it go that direction.

Tarl, taken aback by John’s sarcastic attitude, quickly realized he had asked one too many questions. He was there to learn how to operate it, not ask questions on its construction.

Now as we go around the control panel, all buttons are clearly marked for their function. You see here exterior and interior lights.

Exterior! Tarl exclaimed.

John said sarcastically, For when you are searching for something or someone when the invisibility is not needed. After all if you are spotted you can just turn it on and disappear!

Tarl stifled his reply and listened to John as he proceeded through the remainder of buttons. Navigational input. Longitude here. Latitude there. Autopilot. John told him all he need to do was punch in the coordinates of his destination, push autopilot, and the ship responded accordingly. Outside audio system, here. All others are merely status lights. Nonfunctional.

He ended his briefing, "Of course you don’t know what makes it work so these will show you if something is incorrect in the computer.

And if there is? queried Tarl.

"You’re out of luck. The computer scrambles and the machine will become visible as will your mission. Oh, it will bring you home all right, but it can be shut down in the process. The propulsion system is infallible, the invisibility