16

As he watched the Immortals train Walter O'Reilly, Joe Dawson took extensive notes, using his once-forbidden portable recorder. That was, after all, his job.

"If 'Watch, But Don't Interfere', sounds like a rule that's easier stated than followed, there is a reason for that. I wish I could say that I was the first, or even the worst, of the violators. The first--I dunno. Could be the one assigned to Methos in the 12th Century, but I somehow doubt it. Because if Gilgamesh was the first Immortal of proto-civilization, then his Watcher probably told him about us. That Watcher was Enkidu, his brother."

Joe watched as the last verbal instructions were being given to Walter.

"That's it? We just stand here, on this hill, posing with the swords in front of us? Duncan--that sounds kind of stupid."

"That may be so, Walter. But we're not posing. Before anything else, you have to master basic, simple arts like how to pull a sword back suddenly. If an enemy locks with you, odds are, its part of their plan. Regard your sword as another limb--or be absent one head."

"In my opinion, Walter was right. While they practiced repeatedly moving their swords in a free arc, the urge to yell out 'Swing! No Batta!' was a temptation I barely fought down. But Mac had it right, as always. While Radar--while Walter is far from untrained, he needs to relearn from Step Zero up, if he's to run with the Gods. If his Quickening should go to someone like Kalas, then The Prize itself is in jeopardy. I get the sense that there are still those within The Watchers who might like to act to prevent The Gathering, if it should come. That thought takes me back to the question of who were the very worst oath-breakers. Motherly sponsors and stone-seekers aside, that answer is an easy one. My late, unlamented Brother-In-Law, James Horton. He started all this, under the tutelage of General Samuel Flagg. Flagg. Heh. I'm reminded that Flagg was the name The Devil used, in some novel or other. I still wonder how the buffoon who broke his leg while withdrawing from the 4077th and who saw Commies everywhere could also be the hate-monger whose actions eventually gutted The Watchers. Perhaps Francis Mulcahy committed the error of watching the pratfalls instead of the propman."

As Duncan's hour neared its end, he and Walter were bringing the swords back in harder and tighter arcs.

"Hey, I can see the value in this, now, Duncan. Hawkeye, he trained me like this, only we used long steel pipes."

"Pipes?"

Walter shrugged.

"It was all we had. At the 4077th, ya learned to make do without do, and sometimes without the make."

Duncan nodded as he further intensified their katas.

"Well, Hawkeye was Connor's student, after all. Never did ask him why he trained a mortal, though. Maybe I'll ask after he's done with you."

Walter gulped, and Duncan realized why this might be.

"Walter--I meant after Connor's done with training you for the day."

"I know that's what ya meant--that's why I gulped."

"Oh. Well, I guess he can be kind of scary, at that."

Stopping for a moment, they each turned and looked at the elder Highlander, who sat on the stone wall nearby, awaiting his turn. He smiled, and waved at the pair. They both promptly felt chills run down their spines.

"Eegghh!!"

"Wow, your kinsman--he's got that whole Major Burns thing goin' on there."

"Walter, when was Frank Burns ever scary?"

"Oh. Mostly when he was nice to people."

"Alright, lets finish this. Around, forward, and back in the tightest arc you know."

"Gotcha! Around, Forward, Back, and..."

Duncan heard a thud next to his position. He looked down, and shook his head. Walter had brought back the sword too hard, and knocked himself out with the hilt. Duncan looked around.

"I could leave, and no one would ever.."

But Duncan being Duncan, he helped his new protege' up.

"Sorry about laughing into the tape like that. But if you could have seen Walter sprawled out, on the ground, and then seen Duncan--ah, well, you had to be here. Which--I am. And I'm supposed to be describing it, so you don't have to be here. Well, that's Duncan for today, anyway. Connor, easily the best swordsman still actively in The Game, is going to train Walter next. While they prep, I am going to check and see if any leads have developed on who sent Methos that Judas Tree. If it wasn't Kronos--and it wasn't--was it perhaps a protege of his? St.Cloud's pup D'Estaing came after Mac to revenge his mentor. Also, keeping a Watcher on --Koren-- was impossible, so who knows what little virus is polishing his sword, slouching toward Seacouver or Paris, waiting to strike?"

ABANDONED SUBMARINE BASE

'The Kronos Tapes' went on, and on, and Kenny drank in each droplet of twisted knowledge.

"The World, my post-mortem student, awaits a return to a Primal Age, when those who dared ran things from a horse's back. This civilization is a cold, dead, thing. Television--the one good thing it has produced--is decried and mocked, and demonized. They fear The TV's power, for it is the modern campfire. Why watch Freddy Krueger? Same reasons as the ancients would have : By telling a grim story, you keep it from becoming real. Back when, I always let the storytellers live. For in those stories--I was The Boogeyman. I was Freddy Krueger. If you have the knowledge, and the will, I charge you with restoring the campfire's power."

Kenny was starting to grow bored.

"Philosophy 101--I thought this guy was a badass. Where's the Beef?"

The tapes continued.

"By now, you are surely asking yourself, where is Kronos The Great Beast? Why all this philosophy? Where, then, is the Beef?"

Kenny just kind of stared at the VCR remote.

"Well, here's a first step--do not make a great plan for ending civilization. Make a great many plans for ending civilization as we now know it. Make enough, and certain people will be at a loss as to how to stop you."

"Yeah. People like Duncan Macleod."

"By this I mean, people the ilk of Duncan Macleod."

Again, Kenny stared at the remote.

"Now, on to business. Did you know that Nuclear Reactors are simply large electrical generators? Did you also know that electrical generators are, in one sense, little more than large, powerful, magnets? Lastly, did you know that meteors are oft little more than chunks of iron that pass perilously close to the Earth? First, imagine taking over a Nuclear Reactor and using the magnetism of its generator to attract iron ore meteors to strike at the reactor's core."

Kenny closed his eyes, and saw the resulting disaster. He smiled.

"Now there'd be a mess to write home about."

"The next thing you do is--forget about taking over a Nuclear Reactor. Its a silly, stupid idea. If they don't blow your head off, the millirad levels will fry you in nanoseconds."

Kenny threw up his arms.

"But you just said to---"

"I know that appears to contradict what I just said."

Grinning, Kenny went for his sword, and prepared to smash the TV.

"I am through listening to this 'Phantom Of The Opera' garbage."

But the tape continued.

"Think not of the individual plan I just laid out. Instead--look at how I came about it. Three simple, well-known facts, turned quickly around to serve my purposes. Verbally, I did it with those three things. It can be done with anything. That Is The Final Lesson Of Pestilence Of The Four Horsemen -- That Is The Lesson Of Kronos--Master Of The Night! Restore the night's glory, my student. In the computer room, you will find superbly-minted US Greenbacks, fundage for your crusade. You'll also find -- something else."

Kenny lowered his sword, and looked at the screen.

"Is that it?"

On the tape, a voice not that of Kronos spoke up.

"Kronos? Is That It?"

"Yes, Silas."

"Should I stop running the tapey-thing, then?"

"You mean you haven't---blundering oaf!"

"Hey, don't call me names--oh, by the by, can I keep one of the monkeys?"

Another voice.

"We all know why Silas likes the monkeys, don't we?"

"Just you shut up, Caspian! You are a rotter!"

Yet another voice.

"Kronos, what the deuce is going on here?"

"Nothing of import, Brother. Your woman awaits your pleasure, Meth-----SILAS! TURN THAT DAMNED THING OFF!!"

The tape ended with Kronos grabbing the camera from his 'Brother'. Kenny shook his head.

"I wanna see how to rule the world and get the Prize. Instead, I'm watching Bronze Age Bleeps And Blunders."

But Kenny still took note of Methos, whom he knew to be Macleod's ally, though they had never met. He made his way to the computer room, to at least collect the money.

Two hours later, Kenny emerged with the money valise, and his face was as white as a sheet. The trickster looked as though he had seen the devil himself. Then and there, a clock started ticking, perhaps the final clock for all creation. For Kenny had started to make plans.

Joe Dawson continued.

"With Walter recovered, Connor is talking over his training stratagem with Walter. Later, when Duncan asks Connor why he trained Pierce with a sword and gun, I wanna be there. The man hates weapons, and especially war. Unfortunately, Hawkeye and Margaret Pierce's Watcher is of little use in this...Wait, they're starting."

"Connor?"

"Yes, Walter?"

"Why do you always say that thing it is you say?"

"What thing?"

"I Don't Think So."

Connor shrugged.

"You don't think what?"

Walter shook his head.

"I Don't Think So."

"Walter, what is it you think I always say?"

"I-Don't-Think-So."

"Well, kid, if you're not gonna tell me what it is I say, how the hell am I supposed to tell you why it is I say it?"

Walter grabbed his head in surrender.

"Oh, Boy. I Give Up. I Don't Know."

Connor grinned.

"Third Base."