"But my father told us all that the dragon was impervious to arrows!" cried Medea.
Steiger shrugged. "Your father lied."
Medea flew into a rage. "Oh, how I hate him! I can draw a bow as well as any man! Had I but known it was so simple, I could have slain the beast myself!"
"Then you would have had the golden fleece and you would not have needed Jason," said Delaney. He grinned. "Too bad. Looks like you're stuck."
"You did nothing!" said Medea, turning on Jason. "You merely stood there while your friend dispatched the beast!"
"I took you at your word when you said that arrows would not pierce its flesh," Jason said. "I was thinking how to kill the creature when Creon put an arrow in its throat."
"You were afraid!" Medea said.
"I was not afraid!"
He carefully walked in a wide circle around the dragon and approached the tree. He stretched his arm out to pull down the fleece, but it would not budge. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled again. It moved a little, but still remained draped over the tree limb. With a curse, he put all his weight on it and the fleece abruptly came down. Jason fell and the golden fleece came down on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He struggled to get up, but could not move.
"Fabius! Creon! Help me!"
Delaney bent down over the fleece. "Jesus Christ," he said. "It weighs a ton!" He grunted and pulled it off Jason. "I'll be damned," he said, looking at the fleece. "It really is gold!"
"Yes, exquisite craftsmanship, wouldn't you say?"
Steiger spun around. "Who said that?" The voice had spoken in English and there was something about it that was unpleasantly familiar.
A tall figure in a long, hooded cloak came out from behind one of the stone altars on the far side of the clearing. A plasma pistol was held in his right hand. With his left hand, he reached up and pulled back the hood which concealed his face. His dark complected Slavic features were handsome, marred only by the long scar that ran from beneath his left eye, across his cheekbone and down to the corner of his mouth. A thick shock of curly black hair gave him a Byronic aspect and his bright green eyes stared at them mockingly. "Drakov!" said Andre.
"Who are you?" said Medea. "Where did you come from?"
"That need not concern you," Nikolai Drakov said to her in her own language.
"It concerns me!" said Jason, moving toward Drakov with his sword raised. Drakov fired a plasma charge at the ground in front of Jason. The white hot blast burst into blue flame on the rocks. Jason leaped back with a cry.
"Think twice before you raise your sword against a god, Jason of Iolchos," Drakov told him. "That was merely a warning. I have no
wish to harm you, but if you attempt to interfere, the next ball of fire will not miss you." He looked at the agents, smiled and switched to English. "The same applies to the three of you, of course."
"I should have known," Delaney said. "I should have known we'd be running into you again."
"Yes, we do meet in the oddest places, don't we, Mr. Delaney?" Drakov said. "By the way, allow me to convey my belated condolences on the death of Lt. Col. Priest. He was a worthy adversary. A pity I was cheated of my chance to kill him. However, I see his place has been taken by my old friend Martingale. Or is it Sharif Khan? Tell me, am I allowed to know your real name or will you present me with yet another alias?"
"It's Steiger. Col. Creed Steiger." Drakov smiled. "All the time we've known each other and we're only now being properly introduced. It's fortunate I let you live when I had you at my mercy in the Khyber Pass. If I hadn't, I never would have known whom I had killed."
"A situation you're finally going to remedy, I suppose," said Steiger.
"What, kill you, you mean? Indeed, not. It would upset my plans somewhat if I were to kill you now. Besides, it wouldn't be very sporting with you three armed only with those primitive weapons and dressed in those silly skirts, although the costume looks most becoming on you, Miss Cross. No, your lives are safe enough," said Drakov. "At least for the time being."
"What's this all about, Nikolai?" said Steiger. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Conducting a rather interesting experiment," said Drakov, "of which you three have been an integral part. When I sent the centaur through the confluence, I had an idea you three would be the ones to come. Of course, it didn't have to be you, but I'm rather pleased it was. It's made it all a great deal more amusing."
"So it was a plot to draw us here right from the start," said Delaney. "But why? What do they hope to gain that could be worth the chances they're taking?"
"By 'they,' I assume you mean your counterparts in this timeline, the Special Operations Group," said Drakov. "The S.O.G. has not been entirely responsible for what you've seen. In fact, they will think you were responsible, which is not surprising as I have gone to a good deal of trouble to encourage them in this belief."
"Whose side are you on?" asked Delaney.
"My own, of course. Admittedly, I was forced into collaboration with the Special Operations Group when I first stumbled into this timeline, but I have managed to improve my situation considerably since then. I intend to finish what I started, in spite of your previous interference. Only now with two timelines vulnerable to disruption, the odds of creating multiple timestream splits have increased exponentially."