If I told you all the reasons why it's taken me so long to post this, it would be longer than the chapter itself. Suffice it to say my life practically turned upside down a few months after I posted chapter 7, and then I heard the movie was coming out, so I decided to wait until Crystal Skull was released before proceeding with the story. It has, and here I am. It feels good to be back.

Thank you to the Reviewers:Zooc, Atomic Fire, Ezbok58a, Triaxx2, Jawelik, JPMod, CajunBear73, Ace Ian Combat, LandLPhanfics, MrDrP, Zaratan, Commander Argus, Widow Shark, Yankee Bard, Qracer23, Whitem, PseudoJuliet, BrokenWings00, Wild KS Phoenix, Gnu Hopper, NotTheCrimpmaster, and ilikedan.

Now where were we...?

Chapter 8

Legends

Despite the large cauldron of fire on the other side of the chamber, the vast cavern was still cold. Firelight flickered eerily on the giant masks and Japanese calligraphy that were either carved into the rock face, or made from carved wood and placed in various locations on the walls.

Indy gave a low murmur and his father knelt down next to him, leaning close to see if there might be any serious injury.

“Dad?”

“Lay still son,” Henry said softly, “You had a bit of a fall and knocked yourself unconscious. Shall I give you a short examination?”

“I guess,” Indy responded, somewhat befuddled.

“All right then,” Henry sat on the floor of the chamber next to the leather-jacketed archeologist, “What were the three basic principles which guided the drafting of the Magna Charta?”

“Very funny, Dad” Indy winced from what was obviously a pain in his head.

“Well, I’m a history professor,” Henry explained patiently to his son, “Not a medical doctor. Historical knowledge is the only examination I know how to administer.”

“It’s too bad there’s no known remedy to your awful sense of humor.”

“Indeed,” Henry sympathized, refusing to give Indy the satisfaction of reacting to the barb, “It nearly drove your mother to insanity. Of course, she managed to avoid it at least until you were born.”

Indy smirked and then both men fell silent. Neither of them were ever comfortable talking about Henry’s late wife, largely because they both loved her immeasurably long after her death. The father loved his wife as one loves the other half of himself, while the son, as a young boy, often wondered if all mothers were so angelic, nurturing and playful. The occasional mention in conversation was the best either man could do to pay her tribute, though both felt she deserved so much more. Each man harbored his own very private, very deep pain where she was concerned, but it was a day and age when men simply did not share their feelings with one another.

“Do you think you can stand up?” Henry asked, his concern audible.

In response, Indy grunted while struggling to his feet. Henry stood up next to him, prepared to steady his son should the younger man tremble, but not helping him off the ground. Such an act would have made them both self-conscious.

Indy winced again as he looked around the chamber; the flickering light of the cauldrons weren’t helping his newly acquired headache. Three-quarters of the way up the rock face, he could make out the pale face of Zim Possible, still standing, still clinging to her precarious position on the ledge high above.

“Is he all right?” Professor’s Kyoju’s voice echoed down to them.

“I-!” Indy began, then stopped abruptly as the act of shouting made his head throb.

“He’ll be well soon enough,” Henry called back up, “How are you and Lieutenant Possible?”

“I’m fine,” Zim called down, “I think we should look for a way out of here as soon as we can. The oil in those pots isn’t going to last much longer, and we don’t want to be fumbling around here in the dark. Henry, you should probably try and find what we’re looking for. Does Indy need to rest, or can he start making his way up now?”

Both men looked at each other, then at the demolished bridges as well as the section of pathway that had been shattered by the falling log. Then they looked at each other again.

“Lieutenant,-“ Indy began.

“Just wait there.” Zim said in an exasperated voice. She slowly turned around on her perch so that she was facing the cavern wall. Stepping back just a tiny step, she bent her knees and lowered her right foot over the ledge, carefully feeling about the rock face with the toe of her boot. She lowered herself as far down as she could and continued feeling about until her boot caught something; the upper edge of one of the giant wooden masks mounted on the wall just below her position. Then, to both men’s astonishment, Zim climbed – ladder fashion – down to the floor of the cavern using the eyes or mouth holes of the masks, or the edges of the calligraphy figures. Indy and his father looked around and realized that anyone could climb to just about any spot in the cavern using such a method.

Henry spoke aloud what Indy didn’t want to admit to himself: “Those bridges were a deliberate decoy.”

Indiana Jones uttered a frustrated sigh and once again mentally kicked himself for being so easily deceived. It was a weakness of his; too often he trusted what was right in front of him and took it at face value, sometimes being too eager or too much in a hurry to stop and ask whether he should be trusting his own eyes. He thought back over the poisoned drinks, the disloyal companions, the falsely ransacked rooms… Obvious clues he sometimes overlooked in haste, or trust he bestowed upon someone who clearly should not have had it. There were times when he was too naive, and ironically (for an archeologist) didn’t ask enough questions, or did not ask the right ones.

“I was taken in by it as well, Junior.” Henry said quietly to his son as Zim made her way downward. Then he indicated the skeletons lying about on the floor, “And so were they.”

Indy merely nodded and looked upward again, marveling at the ingenuity of the ancient Japanese mind that dreamed up such a simple, yet no doubt effective scheme. Any treasure or valuables were probably lowered by rope while men who had already climbed down to the floor waited so they could properly store it. Any potential thieves, rather than risk their necks climbing down the walls, would naturally be drawn to the elaborate pathway and set off the mechanisms that protected the place, which included closing the heavy stone door where Professor Kyoju was now standing. Whoever was caught in here would be trapped and probably left to be dealt with by those in the castle, or simply left to starve. Even if the castle had been taken in a time of war, the mechanisms would have been thought of as one last act of defiance by a conquered Japanese emperor. Even now, hundreds of years after Osaka castle had been effectively abandoned, the traps had done their work. Noting how relatively easy it would have been to rebuild the bridges and fill in the gap in the pathway, Indy wondered how many times the mechanisms had actually been used.

“Are you two all right?” Zim asked once again when she reached the floor of the cavern. Without waiting for an answer, she approached Indy and looked worriedly into his face.

Their eyes locked.

For the first time in his memory, Indy saw genuine concern in a woman’s eyes. Most of the female companions he had for his various journeys tended to look at him with accusations on their faces: You got me into this, their glares would say, or I didn’t ask to have my life put in danger, this is your fault. But in Zim’s face he saw only concern. Suddenly, the man who had faced down countless enemies, stared in the face of certain death and walked casually away, hung his life by the mere strength of a thread and came out triumphantly laughing on the other side… suddenly Indiana Jones found he was feeling something he hadn’t felt since he was a young boy:

Shy.

“I… um, I think we’re…” He stammered, actually beginning to turn red.

Fortunately, Zim misinterpreted his body language, “You should be embarrassed Dr. Jones. Maybe next time you will listen to what I have to say instead of cutting me off with ‘trust me, this is what I do.’”

“Wait a moment,” Henry interjected, “You had this figured out before we got down here?”

Zim nodded, “A pathway leading right to the castle wealth? No. Too easy. No one takes the time to decorate a storehouse – not without a reason - because no one is ever allowed in one to enjoy what’s there. The masks and figures had to serve another purpose.”

Henry nodded, “Well done, Lieutenant Possible. You certainly do bring the ‘intelligence’ to Army Intelligence.”

Zim blushed, and Indy got jealous.

“What’s with the goofy last name anyway?” Indy asked in annoyance, “I thought you were Lieutenant Johnson.”

“It’s not a goofy name, Indiana!” She spat out his chosen nickname with some measure of contempt, “It happened to be my aunt Mim’s last name. I’ve decided to adopt it for myself rather than keep my late husband’s name. I need to move on with my life.”

“I like it,” Senior declared, “It sounds optimistic.”

“All right,” the archeologist said a little more gruffly than he meant to, “Let’s start looking for that document before we run out of firelight. Once we’ve found it, we can figure out a way to get out of here.”

“What exactly are we looking for?” Henry asked his son.

“A parchment; rice paper, with Chinese writing on it. Shouldn’t be too many of those. If it’s here.” Indy replied.

A voice came drifting down to them, “This castle was built after the time of Kotei when it was decided that stronger fortifications would be needed. So anything from his time period would be buried under the more recent accruements of wealth.”

“Thank you, Professor!” Henry called back up to his colleague, “When we find what we need, we’ll climb back up to where you are.”

“I’m going to drain the remaining oil out of the basin” Kyoju called back down, “to give the fires more time to burn.”

Zim had begun to walk away, then stopped and looked up toward the Japanese professor, “You mean to say the stone door did not separate you from the oil basin?”

“That’s correct,” Kyoju answered.

Indy had learned his lesson on listening to her, “What’s on your mind, Lieutenant?”

“I think the opening mechanism for the door is in here somewhere.”

Indy nodded and waited for her to explain.

“If whoever built this elaborate trap took the time to install a heavy stone door, then they deliberately allowed for the oil basin to be sealed in on this side.” She continued.

“Ah!” Henry exclaimed, picking up her line of reasoning, “In case someone was accidentally trapped inside, they would have access to it.”

Zim nodded, smiling, “So they could use it if they needed extra light without having to worry about re-setting the door until they were finished with whatever they were doing in here. But the trigger for the door won’t be anywhere near the exit.”

“OK,” Indy was getting impatient, “First thing’s first.”

The three of them got to work.

••

Rufus wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep. Typically, mole rats slept for up to twenty hours a day, but since he was anything but a typical mole rat, his sleep schedule varied. His senses fed information through a transmitter located at the tip of his spine, to one of three satellites in orbit around the earth. Wade had come up with a way to boost the signal so that it actually traveled faster than light, thus avoiding a delay in signal response when the rodent was on the opposite side of the world from the piece of technology in Wade’s basement that housed his mind.

Early on, when Rufus was still growing accustomed to his cloned body and artificial mind, a delay in his response time would manifest itself whenever he was on a mission with Ron or Kim that took him to the other side of the globe. Like the delayed response of a TV reporter giving a live broadcast from a far off country, it would take up to three seconds before Rufus would be able to react or respond to input. On a couple of occasions, that proved to be incredibly dangerous. So for a couple of years, Rufus was relegated to just the western hemisphere while Wade worked to fix the problem. But once solved, Rufus was able to be anywhere on the planet and could react to any situation instantly. Because of this, Global Justice was taking a serious look at developing a line of cloned mole rats to function as assistants to their Deep Field Operatives. Mole rats were nimble, compact, and the fact that they were hairless meant they were less likely to carry a scent which could be picked up by villain’s guard animals or scent detection technology. Wade of course, was assisting in the development phases of the project.

They planned to call their first subject Rufus One.

Rufus’ artificial mind retrieved several memory files and fed the signal to the cloned mole rat’s body; he was in Middleton, staying with Wade and Monique so he could keep a closer eye on Veronica. Ron and Kim had come home for a few hours but then headed out again. Wade was still trying to get a fix on Locke’s new lair, but was having difficulty with satellite imagery. Kim and Ron were in Florida, on their way to the Chez Leisure Retirement Community where Nana Possible had spent her final years. Wade had discovered one of the other residents at Chez Leisure was a man by the name of Henry Jones Jr. Apparently Indiana Jones had been living at the retirement home several months before Nana had gone to live there. In fact, it was the occasion of Nana’s relocation to Florida that had brought a teenage Ron and Kim to the area during spring break, and they’d managed to foil a plot by Drakken to turn the area’s residents into a zombie army. Before leaving again, Kim had wondered allowed if her grandfather had been caught up in Drakken’s scheme and been turned into one of those mindlessly obedient drones. And though Indiana Jones was missing, presumed held by Locke and whoever he was working for, Wade informed them that he had a roommate at Chez Leisure. A man by the name of Marcus Brody. Maybe he had information on Indy’s whereabouts.

All of this knowledge passed through the active processors in Rufus’ artificial mind in the space of nanoseconds. He oriented himself to his surroundings (Wade’s basement, next to the large device that housed his synthetic mind), time of day (the mind’s internal chronometer kept him attuned to the exact time of day down to the millisecond, in this case, it was a little after midnight), and physical state of being (within normal parameters). The mole rat stretched, yawned, and then hopped down from his shoebox bed. Despite all the technology and state-of-the-art equipment, Rufus’ most comfortable means of slumber was still a small box stuffed with an old towel.

He took two steps and froze.

A faint sound, soft, but definitely out of place, floated down to him from upstairs. It was Veronica, and she had giggled. No one would react in alarm to the simple giggle of a toddler unless they knew that child and were aware of every mannerism that child displayed down to the most subtle nuance. Rufus knew that Veronica was now at the age where she slept though the night. And on the rare occasion when she did wake up, she usually cried until an adult – either her parents or Wade or Monique – came in to check and see what was wrong. But just now she’d simply giggled. To Rufus that meant something was definitely out of the ordinary.

He scampered up the stairs as quickly as he could, but because of his size, it was not a very quick trip. Stairs were large obstacles he had to deal with when going up them. He was near the top when he heard it again. This time it was almost outright laughter. Something… something about the fact that she’d be laughing in the middle of the night… though his mind was artificial, and though he had originally begun his life as a simple animal with primitive intelligence, Rufus had – with quite unnatural help – evolved into a being with sentience; the ability to feel emotions, be aware of the self, and rely on such distinctly sentient faculties as intuition. His told him something was wrong, and the synthetic processes in his mind concluded that he should be extremely concerned. This triggered a software subroutine that sent a signal back to the cloned mole rat’s body to begin pumping adrenaline into the bloodstream. In short, a burst of sudden fear and worry spurred him up the stairs faster than he was normally able to travel on his own.

Reaching the top, Rufus skittered around the corner and made a beeline directly for Veronica’s room. Approaching the partially closed door, he saw the room was dark at first, then noticed a faint reddish glow, localized to a source at the far end of the room, near what Rufus knew was the window. He slid and scratched as he rounded the corner and scampered in a near panicky state into Veronica’s room. The reddish glow suddenly moved in his direction and softly illuminated the tiny rodent.

Veronica giggled in delight at the sight of her friend. But Rufus felt no mirth whatsoever.

He felt cold. The window was open and the chilly night air wafted across the floor, bathing him in a physical manifestation of the cold fear that instantly escalated to outright alarm.

Locke’s cyber-monkey was crouched at the foot of Veronica’s bed, the reddish glow from its ocular implant swathing Rufus in a crimson light. The face of the simian was a visage of comic mischief in order to distract and delight the young girl while unseen hands even now reached through the open window toward her. On sight of the mole rat, the cyber-monkey’s face twisted into a mask of hideous rage.

When he was first cloned, Rufus had embraced his emergence into sentience with enthusiasm, glad for the ability to communicate with his friends and master, Ron Stoppable, as well as become a useful member of the team, and now, the trusted guardian of Kim and Ron’s daughter. The monkey on the other hand, was not so pleased with it’s forced entry into the world of higher understanding and self-awareness. It hated Locke, hated what he’d done to it, hated its own very existence. All that hatred churning within the half animal/half machine caused it to delight in any activity that brought about pain and destruction for any other creature, even on occasion relishing the opportunity to bring misery to Locke himself. The monkey loathed no creature on earth as much as Rufus. It had seen first hand how Rufus was loved and cherished by the humans who took care of him. Simply put, the monkey coveted that love, and blamed Rufus for such feelings.

Veronica’s giggle died off almost immediately on sight of the hideous emotion playing across the monkey’s face. Fear consumed her as she felt hands reach through the window and pick her up from a place even her toddler’s mind instinctively knew they should not be coming from. It was at this moment that Veronica Anne Stoppable would utter her first word.

“RUFUS!” she squealed in abject panic.

The mole rat moved, but was instantly set upon by the cyber-monkey who was almost twice Rufus’ size. The simian tackled him and the two animals tumbled over and over, thumping lightly against the far wall of Veronica’s room.

Ronnie-Anne tried to scream, but a hand clamped down over her mouth. She was pulled through the open window in a rough manner, crying and struggling against her captor.

The monkey hauled Rufus up over its head and slammed him back to the hardwood floor. Rufus scrambled to his feet and tried to get out of the way, but the mechanized tail lashed out and caught his foot, whipping him around to impact with the wall. Dazed and disoriented, the mole rat rolled away from the wall, instead of trying to get up, kicking his leg out on the second roll and catching the monkey off guard. The simian’s feet went out from under it and it hit the floor with a surprised squeak. But this only served to enrage Rufus’ foe. Still lying on his back, he swung his mechanical arm up over himself in a rainbow motion and brought its full impact down on Rufus, who felt his wind go out of him. The monkey’s subsequent blows were felt beneath a distant haze of rapidly approaching unconsciousness as Rufus’ thoughts focused almost solely on Veronica.

With his artificial mind, Rufus accessed the security system for Wade’s house and found that it had been disabled. He struggled to keep himself conscious, but the pain and the blows were too great. At last, he withdrew himself from the cloned body and it slumped to the floor. The monkey poked and prodded it once or twice and then, satisfied with its work, scampered up on to the bed and out the window, disappearing into the night after its master.

Rufus re-engaged the security systems and set off the alarms, then re-inserted himself back into his body. Without his presence, the body would simply die and Rufus would be trapped inside the confines of his synthetic world. As soon as he re-entered his body, the waves of pain washed over his senses, and he sank into unconsciousness.

It took Wade and Monique a minute or two to respond to the blaring alarms, but by that time, Veronica’s abductor was long gone. Within a half hour, teams of Global Justice trackers were swarming the Stoppable property, but they were unable to turn up much in the way of clues as to who took the girl.

And Rufus… Rufus could only think three words as his world went from gray to black:

“I’m sorry, Ronnie-Anne.”

••

His mind was a clouded haze of half memories and fractional glimpses of current reality. They had administered drugs in an attempt to extract the truth from him. But he’d held fast, and kept his secrets. Indiana Jones smiled to himself. If his hands hadn’t been tied he would have patted himself on the back for this particular triumph. Although on second thought, he felt he probably would have dislocated a shoulder trying to perform such a maneuver at such an advanced age. He was an old man, and nothing on this earth was ever going to change that.

Still, he had his unyielding strength of will, and that, he concluded, was stronger than any physical strength anyone would ever be able to posses. They had demanded to know where the Ark was, and he again refused to tell. They had injected him with a beefed up version of sodium pentothal, and still his secrets remained hidden. At last, flying into a rage, the one called Dementor had let his diminutive fists pummel the old man for several seconds before Locked pulled him off and informed him that he had an idea. Through his swelling good eye, Indy observed the slow smile that had played across the face of the German wearing the helmet. And then, without a word, they had left.

That was several hours ago.

Indy knew that whatever they tried next would probably result in his death, but it no longer mattered to him. Illogical is it might have sounded to anyone else, Indy considered it a matter of honor that he keep the answers they wanted hidden from them. He did not talk when the Soviets interrogated him on the whereabouts of the Spear of Alexander. He didn’t utter a word when the New York Mafia came calling after he had “liberated” some priceless art from their clutches. He spilled none of his secrets when Mola Ram made him drink the blood of Kali and he fell into a deranged stupor. He certainly had no intention of telling this small man in the odd looking crimson helmet the location of the Ark of the Covenant.

His mind was beginning to clear. The drug-induced haze was lifting. He heard noises behind him, and a door opened.

Indy chuckled, “Why don’t you just let me go now? Nothing you fellows have tried is working. There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me tell you anything.”

“Agreed,” came the low, Bavarian growl that Indy had come to recognize as Dementor, “In fact, I do not intend to cause you any physical harm in any way from now on. Clearly yours is a mind that cannot be broken through means of torture or artificial substance.”

“That’s probably the most intelligent thing I’ve heard you say since we met,” Indy scoffed.

A henchman walked into the circle of Indy’s vision and set something on the floor about ten paces away. Indy squinted with his swollen good eye and tried to figure out why he was seeing what he was seeing. It was a chair. But it was about half the size of a normal chair. He didn’t think Dementor was that small…

Then Indy heard something else. Sniffling. Whimpering: the unmistakable fear of a young child. Indy’s mind and heart went cold.

They sat her down in the chair, and then, to Indy’s astonishment, proceeded to tie the little girl to it. Indy realized he was wrong earlier; these guys weren’t amateurs compared to the villains of the past, they were simply much less sane.

The girl clutched at some sort of stuffed toy. She didn’t struggle much when they tied her up, seemingly preferring to be tied to a chair as opposed to being roughly handled by bad men. Her green eyes flickered up at Indy and he saw something there. He saw Zim. There was no doubt in his mind this girl was his great-granddaughter. Her eyes gazed at him and began to water, her lower lip trembled, protruding slightly, and then melted as she began to cry once more. Not hysterically this time, but with a deep sadness. Indy realized her tiny mind had comprehended that this old man across from her had been hurt, and was possibly even now in pain, and it filled her with a sadness she could not yet comprehend. She sobbed, and the tears rolled down her cheeks, but her eyes did not waver, and never left him. Whatever she saw in the old man, she saw a familiarity there. She may not have recognized him as family, but she certainly saw him as one of the good guys; a friend who probably needed her Daddy’s help. And by the looks of things, her Mommy’s as well. Though Veronica had barely said her first word earlier that night, she already could instinctively recognize that when someone needed Daddy’s help, things were bad. If they needed Mommy’s help, things were worse.

Indy opened his good eye as much as he could, and smiled warmly at the girl. Her sobs diminished to whimpers. Tied to a chair, she struggled slightly against her bonds, wanting to get up and go give comfort to the old man. She never took her eyes off him.

Dementor moved in and stood between them, looked down at Indy, and then took an involuntary step back when he caught the look of unbridled rage in Indy’s remaining eye.

“How dare you involve a child in this matter. If you don’t kill me,” Indy spoke just above a whisper, “Then I promise you do not have long to live.”

Dementor pretended not to be swayed by the threat, “Simply tell me the location of the Ark and nothing will happen to the girl. Any further hesitations, however, will result in some measure of harm being done to her.”

Indiana Jones would have been willing to bluff the Grim Reaper with his own soul on the line and a ten of spades high card in the hole. But he would not risk even one hair on the girl’s head. He glared up at Dementor.

“The Ark is in…”

••

“…Middleton.”

“What?” Ron exclaimed a little too loudly.

The man who called himself Marcus Brody scowled at the young blond-haired warrior, “Do you think at my age I can afford to be telling anything other than the truth?”

“Not really sure how to answer that question, Mr. Brody,” Kim said coolly, “See, our friend Wade did some digging before we came down here and found out that the only person named Marcus Brody who was ever associated with my grandfather was a museum curator who died about thirty years ago.”

The old man scooted forward in his chair and peered very hard at Kim. They were in a relatively small two bedroom apartment attached to a central building. There were two doors in this living space; one that led outside, and another through witch nurses and orderlies would come in and check the supposed Mr. Brody’s vital signs every hour or so. It was a clean, well-lit living environment free of any kind of clutter; the kind that had handrails on the bathtub and wide doors to allow for wheelchairs, though the old man was able to move about of his own accord. It also had that uniquely peculiar odor that seems to be so prevalent in retirement communities and nursing homes. Ron called it “Old Man Stink”, though not within earshot of Mr. Brody.

After a moment, Kim began to grow uncomfortable.

“So,” The ancient looking man said as he sat back in his chair again, “You are Junior’s granddaughter. I suppose I should have known. You have your grandmother’s eyes.”

“All right,” Kim said calmly, “So now you know who I am. Perhaps you might tell me who you really are?”

“Certainly,” he allowed the barest hint of a smile, “My real name is Henry Jones Senior.”

“That can’t be true,” Kim said shaking her head, “Our records indicate Henry Jones Sr. died shortly after Marcus Brody passed away.”

The ancient man nodded, “There came a time in my life when it became clear I was going to live well past the natural age most humans live to. So, with your grandmother’s help, I faked my own death. I realize how odd that must sound.”

“Oh,” Ron said uncomfortably, “It doesn’t sound that farfetched.”

“Because of our close association with my son, your grandmother and I had become targets for assassins and other nefarious types. I got tired of dodging bullets. Indiana may have enjoyed it but I certainly didn’t. To keep the secret safe, we didn’t even tell my son, and for a few years he actually believed I was dead.”

“I know how he felt,” Kim muttered sarcastically.

“I’m sorry?” Henry asked.

“Never mind,” Ron said hurriedly, “Please continue.”

“At some point during the seventies, I felt it was safe to let my son know I was alive. But he agreed with me that I should keep my identity hidden for my own safety’s sake. I’ve been Marcus Brody ever since.”

“Dude,” Ron forgot himself for a moment, “Exactly how old are you?”

Henry nodded, “I’m not sure… exactly. I stopped counting at one hundred twenty-seven.”

Stunned silence for a moment.

“You want to know how.” Henry read the extremely inquisitive looks on their faces, then gestured to himself, “This is the curse I have endured as a result of daring to take a drink from the Holy Grail.”

Ron and Kim exchanged a look but remained quiet.

“Legends speak of the Holy Grail and its ability to give everlasting life to those who drink from it. There are many who have spent their entire lives in the attempt to discover if those legends are true. I am fairly certain they are. And though regular consumption of the Grail’s life-giving waters will grant eternal life, they won’t grant eternal youth. It’s a curse brought on by any who are so arrogant as to think they deserve to sip from the same cup that once held the blood of Christ.”

“Wouldn’t some people think of eternal life as a blessing?” Ron was overcome with curiosity.

“Only fools would think that, my boy. I merely took one draught from the Grail and this is what it has brought me; decades of frailty and the feeling of uselessness, young people who do my laundry and clean my living space with a look of disdain on their faces, as though they want to be done with their work and get back out into the world of the living as soon as they can. Most elderly folks endure this treatment for a brief time in their lives but I have suffered thusly for more than fifty years now. All my friends and colleagues are long dead. No… I should have died that day Donovan shot me in the temple,” by the end of his story, Henry Jones Senior had a faraway look in his eye, almost as though he’d forgotten about the two other people in the room with him. Then he checked himself and looked at them with grave solemnity, “It’s as though the Almighty offered up a choice to humanity where the Grail is concerned; an eternity spent living through increasingly old age, or one spent in His presence after we die. I’m sure in His version, one does not become old… I seem to remember something about ‘running and not growing weary’. Regardless, the Grail is not to be trifled with.”

“I respect that Dr. Jones,” Kim said quietly, “But we came to ask you if you might know the whereabouts of your son, and you said you didn’t know, but then you said the Ark of the Covenant is in Middleton.”

“Yes, of course,” The elder Jones said sheepishly, “I’m afraid my mind has also felt the effects of my advanced age. But as I was saying, it is very likely that whoever has my son is trying to ascertain the location of the Ark because of its current location in Middleton. He and your grandmother moved it there for safe keeping after what happened in Japan.”

“You’re talking about the time you and Dr. Jones and Nana were trapped in some sort of treasure chamber.” Kim stated.

Jones nodded, “It took some time, but we were able to find the tablet Junior was looking for, however…”

••

The fires had burned low, which made the search a bit more difficult. Every now and then, Zim or Senior would find something and bring it to Indy with hopeful looks on their faces, only to be turned away in disappointment. It was difficult for the Jones boys to keep their concentration amid the vast trove of historical artifacts, each one more ancient and potentially priceless than the last.

“One thing is certain, boy,” Henry said quietly to his son at one point, “Even if we don’t find what you’re looking for, we’re probably looking at the greatest discovery of Oriental artifacts this century.”

Indy managed a grim smile of acknowledgment and then continued looking. This entire situation was beginning to bother him. For the first time since he’d begun the task of finding the Tempus Simia, he’d stopped to put a few pieces together, answer one or two questions, only to come up with more. And these new questions were beginning to bother him. Even though they’d gotten rid of Stukhov, Indy knew the Russians would not simply give up at this point. It wasn’t in their nature. One man fails, another takes his place. He’d heard rumors of Russian soldiers at Leningrad during the war having to share one rifle between them; it being the duty of the second man to pick up the rifle and keep fighting when the first one was killed. That was how the Russians worked. If they came at you, then they would keep coming until you were brought down.

But there was more than just that. The Soviets seemed to be almost a step ahead of Indy at times. How did they know to come looking for him and Zim at Yamanuchi? Not many people would have that knowledge. Indy stood up and gazed very intently at Lieutenant Possible. Could it be that this agent for Army Intelligence was more than what she seemed? She’d been the one to send Stukov plummeting into the river, but was that because she genuinely was his enemy, or did she realize things were not going the Russian’s way and thus had to play it off as though she were against him?

Indy felt doubt and mistrust creep into his thoughts whenever they came back around to Zim. Just who exactly was she? And what side was she playing for?

“Junior!” His father’s exclamation broke his thoughts, “I think this might be it!”

Indy moved over to his father’s side. Henry Jones Senior was holding a stone tablet wrapped in parchment and carefully unwrapping it on the surface of a low table nearby.

The tablet itself was white marble and filled top to bottom with Japanese calligraphy. There were no margins, no breaks, no indentations. The lettering took up every available space. Indy studied it carefully, then shook his head in disappointment.

“I’m sorry, dad, I don’t think this is what we’re looking for. This speaks of some kind of war to overthrow Emperor Kotei and his father.”

Senior uttered an exasperated sigh, “I can read Japanese, Junior. You said you were looking for something from Emperor Kotei’s time period.”

“Yes, but-“

“But read a little further down before you decide to throw away an important clue.” The elder Jones scolded his son.

“Yes, sir.” Indy muttered and gazed back at the tablet. “OK… a massive army led by the lord of the Satsuma Province and… what’s this mean?”

Zim peered over his shoulder and looked where he was pointing, “Literally translated it says ‘Monkey Demon’.”

“Thanks,” Indy continued, “Army of living stone monkeys and dragons as well as men… Overthrew Emperor Senzo, but spared his son Kotei… then came warriors from the heavens who had hair of yellow and orange, some who threw green fire with their hands, and a great scholar with blue skin who built war machines. They opposed the Monkey Demon and with the help of a small army from the north, fought to subdue the army of monkeys and take for themselves…”

Indy fell silent for a moment, then continued.

“…take for themselves a weapon of stone shaped like a small ape which had the power to bring the stone monkeys to life-“

“Indy”, Zim quietly interrupted, “I think you might have missed part of that translation back there.”

The archeologist cast an annoyed glance in her direction but waited for her to explain.

“You said ‘warriors from the heavens’, but I believe the literal translation is ‘beyond the sunrise’.” She hadn’t missed his glance, nor had she missed the shadow of doubt in his eyes. Whatever he had thought of her up to this point, she realized that he suddenly did not trust her, perhaps as a result of his experience with others, or something he’d been thinking about. Whatever the case, it bothered her a great deal. She found herself wanting his complete and utter trust; wanting, in fact, to earn it.

“Interesting,” Henry Jones Senior observed, “That could be an old Japanese phrase whose meaning would be closer to ‘tomorrow’ than ‘the heavens’.”

Indy’s face softened as he realized what Zim and his father were saying. He allowed a half smile to play across his face when he looked back down at the tablet again. More specifically, it was what the tablet was wrapped in that caught his interest.

“This is Chinese; ancient Mandarin, and look at this!” he carefully peeled one of the parchments away from the other, “The bottom half of this is written in Japanese.”

“Is that significant?” Zim asked, genuinely curious.

Indy bent close to read in the low light, so his father answered for him, “It is likely that someone found it important enough to add details to whatever was written on this parchment.”

“Assuming I have the literal translation correct,” Indy’s barb was not lost on the Lieutenant, “It notes that a man by the name of Mukashi had taken two journeys across the sea to the east and returned with these parchments after the second crossing. Now look at these lines in Chinese here.”

Annoyed, Zim peered at the parchment as though she were checking his work, but then forgot all about her bruised ego when she realized what she was reading, “The last of three groups of monks returned from their journey and gave an accounting of what they had accomplished in the years they had been gone. Mukashi was summoned to journey back to China to retrieve a record of the accounting...”

“And here,” Indy pointed to a different parchment, forgetting his own doubts about her for the time being.

“All three groups began following the sunset… which means they headed west,” Zim continued translating aloud, “Two of them each carrying a piece of the talisman while the third carried with them instructions on utilizing its power. Eventually, one group turned-“

“’Eventually’?” Indy chided.

“OK, it says they split up after one hundred twenty-eight days of traveling westward. One group went south, while the other two stayed together until a second group turned south several months later.”

“It says this third group was carrying the body of the talisman.” Indy’s eyes lit up, “And that it took them another month until they reached the spot that would eventually become that small shrine outside Stalingrad.”

“Ah!” now Henry’s eyes lit up, “So if we calculate the distance by the number of days traveled, assuming they left at sunrise and continued until dusk…”

Indy nodded.

It took Zim a moment longer to figure out what they were saying, “We should be able to locate where the head piece is.”

“As well as the temple they must have built that explained how they-“

Indy was interrupted by a rumbling that seemed to come from all around them. Dust and small debris cascaded down into the chamber, but whatever was causing the rumble wasn’t strong enough to shake loose the wall hangings or the larger fixtures. Protectively, almost instinctually, Indy and his father moved closer to Zim in order to be ready to shield her from anything that might come tumbling down upon them. After about thirty seconds, the rumbling stopped and all was quiet again, but for the crackle of the fires, which were now beginning to go out.

Henry Jones Sr. looked at his son, who merely nodded back, confirming that they were both all right.

“Lietuenant?”, Sr. inquired.

“I’m OK,” she replied, and gazed around the chamber. She was clutching the tablet and parchments protectively against her.

Then, one of the braziers, the one burning highest above them, flared up and began to burn bright again. All heads on the floor of the chamber turned upward and squinted against the brightness. Behind the flame, a concerned voice floated down to them.

“I have discovered the mechanism that opens the chamber door,” Kyoju called down to them, “But I did not realize it would cause the chamber to shake. Is everyone all right?”

They all nodded.

“Excellent work my friend!” Henry Sr. called upward, “Stay there, we will be climbing up to you shortly!”

••

“…but there was some bit of controversy after we got out.” An ancient Henry Jones Sr. was speaking to an intently listening Ron and Kim Stoppable. “The Japanese government never had any knowledge of the treasure chamber, and certain members of the new parliament were concerned that hardliners loyal to the Emperor might wish to exploit the wealth to resume the war against the United States. In addition, since it was such a major archeological discovery, there was no way Junior and Zim would be allowed to keep the tablet, or the parchment, even just for temporary study.”

“So it was taken away from them?” Kim asked with deep curiosity, “I doubt my Nana would allow something like that, not with her connections and security clearances.”

“Actually,” Henry said with a grin, which increased the wrinkles on his face exponentially, “Your grandmother was the one who came up with the solution to the problem. Jr. already had a fairly shaky reputation in archeological circles; no one believed his claims that he’s discovered the Ark of the Covenant, or the Holy Grail, or the Spear of Alexander, and his methods of field work were widely frowned upon by scholars… (and here he threw a dismissive wave at no one in particular)… and what did they know anyway? Often are the times when life affecting decisions are made by people with too much power and are too far removed from reality.”

“Yes,” Ron intoned a little too impatiently, “But what was the solution Kim’s Nana came up with?”

“Public ridicule.” Henry Jones Sr. said with an even wider grin, “It was decided that Indiana would declare that he had made an archeological find of great importance, and he would hold an impromptu conference to discuss what he had found. Professor Kyoju set up the conference at the University of Tokyo for the following day and invited all the visiting British and American archeological scholars that had been brought in to help catalogue Japan’s national treasures.”

Kim got a little too eager and finished his story for him, “And at some point during the conference, you had to say that your son was not telling the truth and disavow any knowledge of any find whatsoever!”

“No,” Sr. said sternly, “I would not outright ridicule my son. All I did was say I was not present for the discovery, and indicate that I had never been shown the original discovery site. There were a few rather arrogant scholars in attendance who could be counted on to do the rest.”

“So they accused your son of faking the whole thing,” Ron concluded.

Sr. nodded, “Junior’s reputation was already tenuous and the official Japanese governmental representative publicly concluded that Indy was simply trying to gain more notoriety for himself and disavowed the find.”

Kim practically bubbled, “And that let Nana and my grandfather keep the tablet and parchments!”

“Yes,” the ancient man said in his slurred Scottish accent, “And though Indy was never really able to fully recover his reputation, he always said it was worth it. He loved your grandmother a great deal. It’s a shame he had to keep her and the rest of their family a secret while he was able to publicly acknowledge the son he had by Marion Ravenwood.”

“I have an uncle besides Slim?” Kim’s curiosity welled up within her.

Senior nodded, ”That’s a very long story, and it helped to cover up the existence your grandmother, as well as the location of the ark.”

Ron got up, nodding, “We should let Wade know about this. If Locke or Dementor have found out this information, they might already be on their way to Middleton to retrieve the ark.”

He moved off a few steps and pressed a couple of buttons on his wrist, then waited expectantly. Nothing happened. He pressed the buttons again. Again nothing happened. Ron grew alarmed; his instincts told him something was seriously wrong. Wade’s equipment rarely malfunctioned and almost never failed.

“Ron?” His wife could feel his concern.

Ron turned and sprinted out into the hallway, then out into the parking lot where the Ninjet was waiting. His alarm grew when the vehicle just sat there in the warm humid darkness of the Floridian night; no lights came on, the engine did not fire up. Wade had set up a system that would sense either Ron or Kim’s battlesuits and automatically power up the ninjet. He squatted next to the front driver’s side fender and reached up under the wheel well, feeling around until his hand felt a small button-like device. The tiny device scanned his finger print, and then powered up the ninjet, turning on the lights and bringing the engine on line. Ron frantically threw open the driver’s side door and leaned in, then pressed the face of the view screen. It powered to life, showing him several icons. After he punched the correct one, the screen went blank for a moment, then Wade’s face appeared. The look on his friend’s face told Ron what he needed to know before Wade even spoke a word:

“Ron!” Wade’s intensely worried face showed a slight tick of relief, “I’ve been trying to reach you, but my systems were all shut down. I think the-“

“Did they take Ronnie-Anne?”

Wade hesitated a fraction of a second, “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Most likely place would be that abandoned logging camp in British Columbia”, Wade seemed to calm somewhat, suddenly having other things to concentrate on besides Veronica’s abduction, “I’ll have more information when I get the rest of my systems online. I’m sorry I couldn’t get a hold of you Ron, but all my equipment was shut down by the IDOL, and it looks like they accessed the Ninjet via my systems and shut it down as well.”

“Will it still fly?”

“I won’t know until-“

“We’ll stop by Middleton and get the exact coordinates of the lumber camp directly from you, someone might be listening in on this conversation even now.” Ron said hurriedly.

“Good idea,” Wade replied, “You can pick up Rufus while you’re at it. He says you’re not going after Veronica without him.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Ron punched the screen and cut Wade off. He sprinted back inside.

“Locke and Dementor have Veronica.” He stated plainly the second he stepped through the door of Henry Jones’ apartment.

Kim tried not to react but she couldn’t help gasping. They both knew that because of the nature of their work, they and their children would be the targets of all kinds of villainy. Kim was accustomed to the occasional notification that Ron had been kidnapped or taken prisoner, but she discovered it was quite another thing to have her child taken. Something altogether different, and much more serious.

“Are these the same people who have Junior?” Henry Jones Sr. inquired.

“Kim nodded as she stood up, “We believe so, yes.”

With surprisingly agile strength for someone of his advanced age, Henry Jones stood up and faced them solemnly, “Then you must take me as well.”

“I’m sorry,” Ron said almost dismissively as he and Kim made their way toward the door, “but where we’re going, it’s very dangerous to-“

“Don’t talk to me about danger, boy!” Henry Jones spoke so authoritatively that Kim and Ron actually stopped at the door and turned to face him, “I know danger, and I know evil, and I know with absolute certainty that you need me with you.”

Ron began to move without answering, but Kim hesitated, “Why?”

“I am unable to say why,” Senior replied, “I only know what I know.”

Ron was already out into the hallway, Kim looked at Senior once more, and said almost apologetically, “We’ll try to save your son as well.”

Then she stepped out of the room and followed after her husband.

Henry Jones Senior moved to a chair by the window, sat down and began to wait. He watched as the Ninjet lifted itself up into the night sky and disappeared. Whatever was happening, he knew that he would soon be involved somehow. For the next two days he did not sleep, and ate only sparingly, waiting for what was to come. At some point he realized that he was not simply waiting.

He was standing vigil.

••

He was growing impatient. But Bader knew how to control his emotions. He had been practiced at it for more than a decade now. Hiding as a post-war Nazi was child’s play compared to the deeper subterfuge he was engaged in. Soon, none of that would matter. He was in possession of the approximate location of the head of the Tempus Simia, and shortly he would be in possession of the head itself. It did not occur to him that he might be mistaken. His source had a track record of never being wrong.

Movement startled him. The body of the Tempus Simia had been wrapped carefully in soft cloth, which was now rippling back and forth in his lap. Curious, Bader carefully unwrapped the treasure and stared in disbelief. The stone symbols grasped by the stone monkey’s paws began to strike each other. Watching solid stone move was a wonder in of itself, and his men gathered around to gaze in awe.

The moment they had learned the head piece was in Australia they had been on the move. The exact location had not yet been revealed, but it was known to them that Indiana Jones and the Lieutenant would be delayed by a few days while they played out some ruse to get the Japanese government to let them out of the country with the clues to the whereabouts to the headpiece.

Bader and a large team of highly trained Nazi commandos had flown non-stop to a secret Japanese Submarine base on an island off the coast of northern Australia, then proceeded to hijack a sub for themselves, and piloted it to a spot near the town of Darwin. Under cover of night, they walked into town disguised as a Belgian Scientific expedition setting out to discover some new species of plant in the Australian Outback. Having received the exact coordinates of the supposed location of the headpiece, they rented trucks and purchased supplies for the three-day journey into the Outback.

In the meantime, the remainder of Bader’s small army was already in Africa.

Bader and his men were encamped near the location the headpiece was thought to be. Time was growing short, however. He had just received word that Dr. Jones and Lieutenant Possible were leaving Japan tonight and would be in Australia in about thirty hours. Gazing at the clapping symbols, it occurred to Bader that the final piece to the puzzle of the whereabouts of the headpiece had been solved.

“This is a sign,” Bader stood up in the dim firelight and held the clapping figure aloft, “The headpiece of close! This will lead us to it!”

A cheer went up from his men.

••

The aircraft was moving south through the night sky, having left Japanese airspace the evening before and crossing a good deal of that part of the Pacific Ocean and the myriad of islands between Japan and Australia. Zim took a slightly westward parabolic course in order to be near one of the major island chains – such as the Philippines – in case something went wrong with the plane. Neither of them had said much on the trip. Indy traced his customary red lines in pencil across his map and noted how some of them crisscrossed once or twice. As he gazed at his map, he discovered that the idea of getting from China to Australia some time around the year 400 might not have been such an impossible task after all. It was likely the monks simply hopped from island to island as they moved through what was now Indonesia and the Fijis. Casually, he said as much to the Lieutenant.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Zim answered, “This idea that humans took thousands and thousands of years to cross continents and settle them always seemed kind of silly to me.”

Indy nodded, grateful for the chance at intellectual discussion rather than personal questions or the possibility of her catching on to his suspicions. Those were bothering him the most. The more he thought about it, the more he began to believe that Zim might be a Russian spy. Yes, she had thwarted Stukhov, but it wouldn’t be the first time in history that a spy sacrificed a countryman in order to keep his – or her – cover identity protected. He turned thoughts of a suspicious nature over and over in his head as he kept up the pretense of conversation.

“I don’t think it’s all that hard to fathom that humans moved across Asia in a relatively short span; say, a thousand years or so.” Indy postulated.

“Why just Asia?” Zim queried, “We know tribes and even nations of people have been displaced throughout time. Who’s to say it took any more than a few decades to move across the Bering Straights and into North America?”

Again Indy nodded, but this time he was genuinely intrigued. The Lieutenant was smart, there was no question of that, but her intellect genuinely attracted him. Vaguely it occurred to him that she might just be the academic equivalent of Mata Hari; paired up with Indy in order to learn his secrets, and be there when he made his inevitable discovery, only to make off with it when the time was right. It was insidiously clever. Someone had clearly figured out his weakness for strong, intellectual females, knowing that would be the only way to…

…oh who was he kidding? Indy practically chuckled to himself as he came to the realization that he wasn’t very good in the self-control department. He’d once allowed himself to be seduced by an undercover Nazi in Venice. Fortunately for both Indy and his father, Elsa never came back from the attempt to recover the Holy Grail, and in subsequent debriefings by U.S. Intelligence agents, both father and son agreed that it was better that she didn’t exist; otherwise those agents were bound to get overly curious as to why a prominent History Professor and his son had been seduced by the same Nazi spy.

Aloud, Indy said, “I can see that. Since customs and traditions tend to develop in a relatively short time, cultures can spring up in the span of only a few generations.”

“Right,” Zim turned to look at him with tired eyes. Indy had taken some of the piloting duties off her hands, but she still hadn’t gotten much sleep since they left Japan, “And that’s about, what, fifty years? Who’s to say the North American Indian tribes weren’t there for but a couple hundred years or so?”

“Not I.” he said with his customary lopsided grin. Her eyes may have been tired, but they still had that unexplained spark in them that drew him to her. Indy found his mental defenses against her weakening; more so when she returned his smile. Uncomfortably, he adjusted his fedora and looked out into the night sky.

“After all,” she continued, wondering why he seemed suddenly subdued, “It’s not as though the intelligence of the average human being has increased in the last few thousand years. Only the technology has improved.”

“This is true,” and again, Indy’s intellectual curiosity was piqued, “We assume man spent millennia with just the wheel and the horse cart because he lacked the intelligence to improve upon it.”

“Maybe he was just too busy moving around. Remember, a good portion of discoveries in the last few hundred years have come from larger, more permanent settlements, like long-established cities.” Zim offered.

“Where the inhabitants had time to practice things like hobbies, art, or scientific experiments,” Indy offered back.

Zim nodded, warming to the conversation, “Rome had an underground water system, and a network of roads, but we tend to see the citizens of that empire as barbaric and war-like.”

“Which they were,” Indy countered, “but there was also plenty of time for things like philosophical debate, or artistic activities, or architectural achievements. So are you heading toward a point in all this?”

Zim shrugged, “Not necessarily. Just stating that it is highly possible things progressed at a much faster rate than we assume they did. You’re an archeologist, don’t you think if it had taken so long for humans to spread across the earth, you’d be finding much more in the way of artifacts or skeletons? And wouldn’t the population of the earth be far greater than it is now?”

“Maybe,” Indy allowed, “But nature has a way of curbing baby booms with plagues, or wars.”

“Good point.”

“Still,” Indy didn’t want her to think he was trying to shut down the conversation, “You make some valid arguments. Although I don’t really dig up skeletons; I go looking for artifacts and often bump into quite a few of them.”

“Artifacts?”

“Skeletons.”

“Ah, don’t they give you the willies?”

“Not really. In fact, for some odd reason, I feel rather comfortable around skeletons. Always have, don’t know why.”

“I bet you’re attracted to abnormally thin women.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Do me a favor, look out your side and tell me if you see any moonlight reflecting off the water.”

Indy shot her an odd glance and then looked out. He could clearly see a three-quarter moon above, but no reflection from the ocean below. He turned to Zim and shook his head.

Zim nodded in return, “I thought as much. We’re over Australia now, somewhere near Darwin I should think. If your calculations are correct, we need to turn southwest.”

Indy took a breath and let it out slowly, “I keep forgetting this country is the size of the continental United States. If my calculations aren’t correct, we could be searching for awhile. You reported all my findings to Eaton, didn’t you?”

Zim simply nodded.

“Maybe we should get some help with the search,” Indy suggested.

“Colonelr Eaton would be unable to arrange it on such short notice,” Zim said dismissively.

‘No he wouldn’t’, Indy thought to himself, ‘You’re definitely hiding something from me Lieutenant.’

••

“What are you hiding from me?”

“Huh?”

“I know that face”, Ron Stoppable said to his wife as the Ninjet slid silently through the night air, streaking northwards toward Canada, “Talk to me. I know you’re not this worried about Ronnie-Anne.”

Kim smiled in the darkness. No one on earth knew her like Ron did, and she liked it that way. He was right, she wasn’t worried too much about Veronica. They’d dealt with hostage situations before; the Tweebs, her father… seemed like everyone among her family and friends had been captured by a villain at one time or another. Yes, there was a little bit of added worry because it was their daughter, and it was her first abduction. But a lifetime of hero work had taught Kim that if any harm was intended toward Ronnie-Anne, she would not have been taken. Dementor and Locke wanted leverage on them for some reason, or perhaps-

“My grandfather!” Kim exclaimed suddenly.

“Huh?”

“They took Ronnie-Anne because they have my grandfather. If my great-grandfather knows where the Ark is, it’s a sure bet my grandfather knows its location.”

“And you think they took Veronica in order to get Dr. Jones to tell them the location of the Ark?”

“That’s part of it. That, and Locke’s hatred of you.”

“Well, that’s never been a secret, but there are better ways of getting to me than… well, no, maybe there aren’t.” Ron corrected himself.

“It’s a dual purpose operation,” Kim surmised, “Dementor wants to get my grandfather to give up the location of the Ark, while Locke wants to take his revenge out on you. What better way to accomplish this than by taking your daughter?”

Kim suddenly felt tingles shoot all through her. She had come to recognize this as a flare-up of the mystical monkey power her husband had passed on to her. She had furthermore come to recognize that when she felt the power surge through her for no apparent reason, it was because her husband was feeling some very powerful emotions.

And in this case, it wasn’t too difficult to guess what he was feeling.

••

He was getting very angry indeed.

They had to set down in a lake some thirty miles from the supposed location of the head piece. Indy wasn’t much for hiking such a distance, but they had no choice. The sun had come up during their flight into the interior of Australia and when they reached the spot where he thought the head piece might be, Zim flew in slow circular patterns, searching for a place to set down. There wasn’t even a solid plan for the search, and for all Indy knew, the temple could be hundreds of miles away. But in Japan, he, Zim, and his father studied all the latest topographical maps of any potential route between there and all points south, matching up clues in the ancient documents with any geographical features along the way. In the end, one thing was decided for certain; the journey had been a long and very arduous one, and they had taken great pains to make sure the head piece was as far from the body as possible. There were still many questions that couldn’t be answered, such as how the monks managed to get from island to island, and cross the southern pacific region to Australia itself, for they were indeed convinced it was Australia that became the final resting place of the head piece of the Tempus Simia. The documents spoke of strange creatures that bounded instead of walked, and small bear-like animals that ate only leaves; animals that could only come from one place.

This part of the Australian outback was fertile, though not densely forested. It was interspersed with large, reddish rock formations; some made of single mammoth stones, while others were jumbles of rocks piled upon each other. When they first got to the area, Indy was immediately filled with doubt. It was a massive expanse of countryside that stretched out to the horizon, and could contain any one of a hundred thousand places to hide the small headpiece. It would take an entire army months to search the area and there was still a high likelihood they wouldn’t turn up anything. Whenever there were times like this, and throughout his life there had been plenty, this was usually when Indy’s instincts would take over. He had found countless grave sites, secret entrances to temples, passageways, or any number of similar things on a hunch. This was one of his gifts; the ability to deduce an accurate conclusion based on extremely little information. There were times when he had been wrong, and once or twice a wrong conclusion had come very close to his demise, but for the most part, Indy could find a needle in a haystack just by telling which way the wind was blowing.

He surveyed the landscape and gazed at his map. To the monks, the act of setting up a temple for the headpiece would be very solemn and ceremonial. It would require a location that would have potential to look like a temple. He stared out the window again as Zim banked in long, slow circles, dismissing one potential location after another. Then, something piqued his interest.

“There,” he said to Zim, pointing at a lone spire of rock about twenty feet high, “circle around again and fly over low so we can get a better look.”

Zim merely nodded and did so, bringing the plane in very low over the tops of the trees. As they swooped over the spire of rock, something caught her eye, “What is that? Near the top of the formation!”

Indy saw it as well, and though he couldn’t tell exactly what it was, he was sure of one thing, it was some kind of statuary that had been placed there deliberately. He looked at her and simply nodded, she pulled back up into the air and began looking for a place to land.

Four hours, a bumpy lake landing, and a long hike later, Indy and Zim emerged from a clump of trees to find what they were looking for, and then some.

“That’s just great!” Indy said in disgust as he surveyed the clearing. The rock formation itself had what was obviously a stone door at its base, and this door was open. All around the opening were tracks; both human and vehicular. It was clear the tracks were fresh, and Indy was sure there had been no open door.

Jones felt a nudge in his side and turned his head to see Zim pointing toward the top of the spire. He followed her gaze and saw what he had seen from the plane; a small statuesque carving of what turned out to be a monkey. It was turned on its side. Indy stepped out into the clearing, but Zim held back.

“Whoever they are, they could still be in the area!” Zim hissed.

Indy shook his head without turning to look at her, “They got what they came for, and I don’t hear any engine noises, so it’s a good bet your friends are far away already.”

“The Nazis are not my friends,” she said coldly, “Neither are the Soviets. They wouldn’t consider me much of a friend since I’ve already broken two of their codes.”

Indy’s face contorted in confusion, “We’re spying on the Russians?”

Zim nodded, “If the Nazis had not risen to power, the second world war probably would have been about the Communist ideology. We’ve been getting reports about the atrocities Stalin has committed against his own people, and believe me Dr. Jones, Communism - or rather the Soviet/Marxist form of it - is a direct threat not only to the United States, but the democracies of this planet. The next war could be us against them.”

“OK, OK,” Indy turned back to face the rock, “This is a talk we should probably save for later. Let’s go find out what we already know.”

They stepped into the doorway. The only light inside the small shrine came from the outside, but they could see plenty enough. Chinese calligraphy peppered the walls, while a small pedestal stood in the very center of the rock. It was clear something once rested recently on this pedestal, but it was gone now. The question was, who had taken it? The Nazis or the Russians? Indy asked Zim who she thought it was.

“Doesn’t matter, really.” Zim responded, “If it was the Nazis, then they’re already on their way to the temple in Africa. If it was the Russians, then they’ll be going after the body piece, and then to Africa.”

“So we’re going to Africa to wait and see who shows up with the whole package.” Indy concluded.

“And then we’ll take delivery of that package, whether they want to give it to us or not.”

••

In the Canadian Rockies of British Columbia, it was a crisp morning, and the sun had been bathing the peaks of the mountains for some time but was now beginning to work on filling up the valleys with its light. Snow crested only the highest elevations, while the rest of the region was a palette of evergreen and stone. Mountain goats danced nimbly from one precarious perch to the next, while eagles wheeled in the wind, or circled above lakes in search of breakfast.

At the far end of a very high, narrow valley was an abandoned lumber mill, its work having ceased some fifty years before. The main building was dilapidated and leaning slightly to one side, with open walls and a long assembly line of woodwork that still housed some of the saw blades. To the right of the main building was a waterfall which cascaded downward to a creek that ran off into the forest. The remains of an old bucket and pulley system – buckets on a long rope threaded through pulleys that powered the saw mechanisms in the shop – dangled from the top of the waterfall and ended in the shallow pool at the bottom. Railroad tracks once used by a lumber train ran off to the left, descended slightly then curved to the right when they reached the end of the valley.

There were two other buildings still standing; what had clearly been a bunkhouse used as living quarters for the lumberjacks and a separate, smaller building that probably had been the operations offices.

All in all, Ron would have thought it a very picturesque scene. But he had other things on his mind.

His daughter for one...

…and then there were the hoverjets streaking at them from seemingly nowhere.

…and the inbound missiles.

…and the fact that all communications with Wade had just been cut off, not to mention complete loss of control of the ninjet.

Understandable then that Ron was preoccupied.

“Ron!” Kim said with an extreme amount of nervousness in her voice.

“Nothing’s working!” Ron said through gritted teeth. He fought with the steering controls but it didn’t seem to matter. The engines had just shut own; whatever forward velocity the ninjet was achieving was purely momentum now, and the forward was rapidly converting into the downward.

“Do you think we should-?” but Kim’s question was cut off when the first missile slammed into the ninjet and sent it into a spiral. Ron and Kim both watched helplessly as the ground spun sickeningly in front of them, approaching rapidly. Four more missiles pounded the aircraft, and both passengers lost all sense of direction; up or down. Ron managed to say a silent “thank you” to Wade for reinforcing the entire structure – as well as the windows – of the ninjet with transparent aluminum (an experimental alloy that had been developed recently by a plexi-glass manufacturer in San Francisco), rendering the exotic aircraft virtually indestructible…virtually. The frame did buckle a little and the windshield shattered in a spider web network of cracks, but the vehicle basically held together, even when it thundered into the earth and turned end over end until it finally came to a rest right side up near where the railroad tracks ended at the mill itself.

For a brief few seconds, the world seemed to be utterly silent, as is often the case when frighteningly loud noises suddenly cease. Echoes of the explosions worked their way down the valley and dissipated until all seemed eerily silent.

Ron was vaguely aware of a warm sensation at his feet, and the world around him seemed a dark gray. The urge to simply close his eyes and allow himself to sleep was overwhelming. But an alarming voice from deep within told him this was not an advisable course of action. There was trouble nearby, and it needed to be dealt with.

A dimly familiar voice, muffled and far away, called to him, “Come on Stoppable! I know you’re alive! Don’t let my fun be over so soon!”

Ron’s head lolled over to one side and then his eyes opened wider as he caught sight of his unconscious wife slumped over in the passenger seat, held up by the restraining harness.

“Kim?!” He detachedly observed that he sounded like he had a mouth full of food. His shoulder was sore, and he felt a simultaneously dull and stinging pain on his forehead. Gingerly he reached up and touched where he thought the pain was emanating and instantly regretted it. The stinging was instantly overwhelmed by a dull throbbing sensation that forced him to grit his teeth and close his eyes.

“Wake up Stoppable!”

Ron forgot about his head pain as he suddenly felt as though his entire body had burst into flame. The pain was so intense it drew a rather loud cry from his lips, the yelling caused his head to hurt even more. It also stirred the woman next to him into consciousness.

“Ron?” The word croaked its way past her lips. “RON?!”

Stoppable writhed in agony as his mind struggled to decipher just where the pain was coming from. This wasn’t localized to any one part of him. Then it stopped just as abruptly as it had begun.

“What happened?” Kim was still coming out of unconsciousness.

Ron looked over at her and winced. She already had a nasty bruise forming on the side of her face. It was then he realized that the pain in his head was probably caused from impact with the windshield when the first couple of missiles slammed into the Ninjet.

Again, the familiar voice from outside the aircraft, “All right Stoppable, I’m tired of waiting.”

Three seconds later, two loud thunks were heard on either side of the ninjet. Before Kim or Ron could react, the drivers’ side door was torn away by some unseen machine, or machines. A mixture of fresh air and acrid smoke poured into the cockpit. Ron struggled with his harness, then with great effort, hauled himself out of the aircraft.

“You too Mrs. Stoppable!”

Kim let out a frightened yell of pain as she suddenly began squirming and struggling. Ron felt the mystical monkey power flare up within him and he knew she was feeling the same kind of fiery sensation he’d just felt a moment before. Kim abruptly stopped squirming and Ron leaned into the cockpit to help his wife out of her harness and found a very groggy Rufus was already hard at work on it.

“Rufus!” he whispered as loudly as he could, somehow fearing that whoever had brought them crashing to the ground, whoever was taunting them and ordering them around at this very moment, might also be able to hear them. “Can you contact Wade?”

“No he can’t”, came the voice again. Ron finally figured out who had been talking this whole time.

“Locke,” he growled and scanned his immediate surroundings, finally seeing his foe standing on the conveyer belt leading to the large circular saw that was the central mechanism of the saw mill. The cybermonkey was perched on his shoulder. Ron moved menacingly toward the other man but was brought to his knees in blinding pain as he suddenly felt himself on fire once again. The monkey seemed to shriek with delight.

“Now now, agent Stoppable,” Locke said casually as he punched a button on the IDOL and Ron’s pain went away, “You’ll have your chance at me soon enough. But first, before I hand you your last and most humiliating defeat, I want you to suffer.”

Locke pushed a few buttons on the IDOL and Kim, who was just getting out of the ninjet, suddenly dropped to the ground in utter agony. Ron finally figured out that the blinding pain he and Kim had been experiencing was Locke using the IDOL to feed whatever electricity was stored in their battles suits back in on them. The effect was roughly the equivalent of multiple, simultaneous blasts from several different tazers.

Again, Ron moved menacingly toward Locke. Locked pushed several more buttons and Ron was brought to the ground, while Kim’s pain cut off completely. After a few seconds, Locke shut off the feedback to Ron’s suit.

“I really wish I had the Lotus Blade right about now.” Ron half growled to his wife.

“I know, I’m sorry. I won’t ever suggest you leave it at home for safekeeping again. But did you notice? He can’t zap both of us at the same time!” Kim whispered to her husband as she struggled to help him to his feet.

Ron nodded, “Then one of us is going to have to get barbequed while the other gets the IDOL. I volunteer to get the IDOL.”

Kim allowed the barest hint of a smile to play across her face. She knew her man was kidding, and she loved him dearly for maintaining his sense of humor in such situations. She couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else.

“Before you two decide who gets fried and who’s coming after me,” Locke seemed to anticipate their thoughts, “Let’s see what your daughter has to say about the situation. Rolf?”

A very large henchman stepped somewhat timidly up to the conveyor belt from somewhere behind Locke. He looked shaken and had several nasty bruises on his face. Rolf whispered quietly to Locke for several seconds.

“What do you mean they’re both gone? The old man too? How could they be gone!? FIND THEM! NOW!” Locke couldn’t help bellowing.

Ron and Kim shared a quick look but did not speak. Their eyes communicated everything that needed to be said. Ron and Kim immediately sprinted for Locke who turned to face them just before they reached him. He slammed his fist down on the IDOL, bringing Ronin to the ground, then turned to deal with Kim. But she didn’t even look at him. Instead, she vaulted over the conveyor belt, bringing her feet around to land squarely on Rolf’s chest, slamming him to the ground. Without waiting to see if he would get up, Kim sprinted off into the compound in search of her daughter.

••

Ten minutes earlier, a very elderly Indiana Jones sat across from a very young Veronica Stoppable and did his best to smile at her reassuringly while Dementor, Locke and several henchmen were engaged in a heated discussion.

“For the last time, Locke,” Dementor seethed, “I am not interested in your petty revenge fantasies. I contracted you to help me find the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Which I have done,” Locke pointed out, “We know it’s in Middleton, and we know where in Middleton. All you need to do now is go and retrieve it. My part of this endeavor is completed.”

Dementor shook his head slowly, “When I said ‘find the Ark’, you know full well I meant you were to help me acquire it.”

Locke’s turn to shake his head, “That’s not how I see it. You and I are on different paths now, Professor. I have no interest in your mythological relic.”

“Then give me the IDOL so I can go and get the Ark. Undoubtedly it is well secured, and I will need the device to get to its location.” Dementor demanded.

Again, Locke shook his head, “I need the IDOL to carry out my vengeance. However, if you would like to remain until I have completed my task, then I will be happy to turn the IDOL over to you at that time.”

Dementor thought for a few moments, “And you will eliminate Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable forever?”

Locke smiled a very cold, very sinister smile while looking down at Veronica, “I’ll take care of the whole family.”

“Very well,” Dementor growled, “I will wait.”

Locked clapped a friendly hand down on the shorter man’s shoulder, “I think you’ll enjoy watching the demise of your old nemeses,” then he turned to the henchmen, “Which one of you has no qualms with inflicting pain on a little girl?”

Rolf stepped forward, “What is it you want?”

“After I bring down their aircraft with the IDOL. I’m going to torture them for a few minutes using their own battlesuits against them. At some point, they are going to try and negotiate for their daughter’s release. At the moment they are brought down, I want you to come get the girl and bring her to me. See that she is in some pain when she is brought out. I want her shrieks of despair to be the last thing she utters while her parents watch her die.”

Rolf nodded and took up a position near the doorway.

Locke turned to Dementor, “I trust you have no issues with any of this.”

Dementor waved his hand dismissively, “She will merely be the first of millions. She, and her Jewish father. Once I have the Ark, I will purge this world of their kind for all eternity.”

Indy’s blood ran cold. But outwardly, he smiled at Veronica, who shyly smiled back at him. The girl knew they were still in trouble, but she felt safe with him around.

At that moment, another henchmen rushed in to the room, “Sir, the IDOL has assisted long range sensors in detecting an inbound, cloaked aircraft!”

“That’s them!” Locke barked, “Everyone knows what to do! Take your places… and enjoy the show Professor Dementor.”

Everyone cleared the room, leaving Rolf to stand watch over Indy and Veronica.

Indiana Jones turned his head and cast his one good eye over Rolf and instantly knew what kind of man he was. They weren’t bluffing or kidding when they talked of ending the girl’s life. Rolf’s eyes were dead, almost glazed. They contained no feeling or emotion. Indy had seen this look before. It was the look of someone who was almost not even in control of himself; someone who had spent his life giving in to his darker urges and had grown to like it. Indy knew that not only would Rolf hurt the girl, he would probably get some enjoyment out of it.

Several loud roars were heard outside; the missiles were being sent to their target. If the aircraft was actually brought down… Indy looked at Rolf and his mind raced. His arms struggled against his restraints and he silently cursed himself for being an old and feeble man. The restraints weren’t tied very tight, almost as though his captors were mocking his age and physical weakness. And though Indy knew his bonds would not be secure for a younger man, for him they might as well have been chains.

Explosions could be heard in the distance, Rolf shifted his weight and looked at Veronica. It couldn’t be long now.

Indy’s mind raced, and then it reached out.

‘I know You’re out there,’ the thoughts formed clearly in his head as though he had spoken them aloud, ‘I have seen and felt Your power. I know I have no right to ask You for anything. But a little girl is going to die, and your Ark is going to be used for evil purposes.’

Indy had never prayed much in his life, and doing so now almost made him feel guilty. Was it right to ask God for help when he hadn’t been much of a follower of the Almighty most of his life? Now thoughts from his past raced through his head.

‘May He who illuminated this, illuminate me.’ Words spoken many times by his father when he was a young boy. Dr. Jones Sr. had dedicated his life to finding the Holy Grail, and when he had found it, he’d let it go, because ultimately his search had been not about the cup, but about He who had partaken of that cup.

And the Ark, now in real danger of being used as a weapon. But was that even possible? Could God be manipulated into using His might for evil just because someone possessed a relic He had blessed thousands of years ago?

‘Or perhaps’, Indy thought, ‘It’s not so much about allowing Dementor to use it, as it is about not letting him defile such a sacred object with dark intent.’

And there it was, a moment of clarity so sharp and resilient that it felt almost as though it pierced him to his very soul.

‘“This belongs in a museum!”’

Words he had spoken an untold number of times throughout his life. And why? Because his life had not simply been dedicated to preserving artifacts for future generations, it was about making sure those artifacts could not be used for something so dirty and hideous as personal profit. The idea of relics being sold to collectors who hid them away and brought them out to show at parties in order to impress their guests had always made Indy’s stomach turn. How much more so did the idea of Dementor trying to use the Ark for evil sicken him?

A massive thump outside, followed by several more smaller ones. Rolf began to walk toward Veronica.

Indy became frantic. He couldn’t bear the thought of watching helplessly as the little girl was subjected to who knows what kind of pain and torture.

‘Please help us!’ his mind pleaded. When he retrieved the Ark the first time, he’d come in brief though indirect contact with God. Then when he experienced the effects of the Grail, it was brief and indirect contact with His Son. Could they help him now? Or perhaps that third part of the Almighty just might…

‘My life for the girl.’

The thought had come pouring from his mind before he even realized it was coherent.

“My life for the girl.” Indy whispered.

Rolf stood in front of Veronica and glared down at her. She recoiled as much as she could against her restraints. Somehow she knew bad things were about to happen. Rolf was just reaching for her when he noticed something odd. Something about the light in the room had changed. He looked up and there was a shadow on the far wall, standing upright. Rolf whirled around.

The old man was gone, the restraints lay discarded on the floor. Standing in front of the empty chair was a much younger man, though he too was wearing a leather jacket and a fedora. He was also wearing a khaki shirt and canvas pants. A canvas bag was slung at his side, the strap across his chest and over one shoulder. He wore two belts; one which held up his pants and the other which held a holster. A whip was neatly coiled up and slung at his side. He had a rugged, slightly unshaven jaw, and square features. The mouth was set in a fiercely determined snarl. And his eyes… the young man’s eyes were a seething cauldron of steel rage.

Rolf had been a henchman most of his life. He’d dedicated his existence to serving whatever villain paid him enough, and he enjoyed his work. He’d seen his share of fights, and been in plenty of bar brawls. But he never imagined any man on earth could hit another so hard as when Indiana Jones’ fist slammed into his jaw seemingly out of nowhere. The henchman was lifted off his feet and sent sprawling, and it took him longer than he cared to admit to get back up. Indy was busy untying Veronica when Rolf advanced on them, somewhat hesitantly.

Indy didn’t hesitate at all. He took two determined steps and swung, connecting a solid right hook to the side of Rolf’s face, and instantly blackened his eye. Rolf swung almost half-heartedly, but Indy easily caught the fist with his own and brushed it aside while his other fist reared back and hurtled into Rolf’s nose. There was a muffled snap, and blood began to spew forth. As his own hands came up to his face to protect it from any further damage, Rolf felt a hand on the back of his neck, and then felt his lungs involuntarily evacuate air as Indy’s knee thundered into his abdomen.

Rolf crumpled up in a heap on the floor and did not move. Indy moved to Veronica and finished untying her. She looked somewhat confused, until she looked up into his eyes, both of which were now young and full of vitality. At that point she recognized him, and threw her arms around his neck.

“I’ve got you honey,” Indy said softly as Veronica clung to him, “Let’s see if we can find a way out of here.”

••

“What’s wrong, Locke? Too afraid to face me on even terms?” Ron sneered up at his opponent.

Bill Locke glared down at the boyish-faced ninja who grinned defiantly up at him despite the fact the feedback on the IDOL was turned all the way up. He shut it off, tossed the IDOL to the cybermonkey who was now perched at the top of the waterfall, and watched as Ron visibly relaxed.

“Who are you?” Locke asked in an almost hateful wonder. “I was a GJ agent for fifteen years, and never once was considered for Deep Field work even though that was the one thing I wanted most. In all that time, I managed to scrounge up maybe two dates with one of the gals in the research lab, and I didn’t even like her very m-“

Ron knew it was bad form to punch a villain in the face when he was in the middle of a monologue. But that particular tradition demanded the hero exercise restraint in such moments only in the hopes of gaining valuable information. More often than not, the Villain would work him (or her)-self into such a frenzy that they eventually couldn’t resist spilling their evil plans. However, since Ron pretty much knew Locke’s plans, there was no need to sit through his drawn-out self-pity fest. What did he care what Locke’s motivations for turning evil were? All he knew was that the man who was just now reeling back from meeting Ronin’s fist had once been a hero, and had betrayed that ideal in favor of his own perceived victimhood. Of course, that was secondary to the fact that Locke had taken his daughter. Ron had a standing personal rule. If a villain commits a crime, bring him in alive. If that villain hurts a member of Ron’s family, just bring him in.

Locke reeled back several steps and blundered into a tall lever, pushing it backward. Suddenly the surface beneath his and Ron’s feet began to move. The conveyor belt - powered by the moving bucket line that had just been placed into the torrent of the waterfall by whatever mechanism was controlled by the lever - began to move toward a saw blade the size of a small car. The blade slowly began to turn, picking up speed. Locke glanced at it quickly and moved away from it, toward Ronin.

Ron took two steps toward Locke and then howled in pain, dropping to his knees. Up on the waterfall, the cybermonkey jumped and gibbered in glee as he turned the dial on the IDOL all the way up. Locked grabbed Ron by the scruff his shirt, glanced up at the cybermonkey, and then punched Ron in the face twice.

The feedback shut off again. Ron threw a left to Locke’s jaw and both men went sprawling onto the conveyer belt. Ron glanced worriedly down the length of the belt toward the now rapidly spinning saw blade just in time to see a stray piece of wood shred to pieces under the rusty mechanism.

Locke picked up a length of pipe and swung, overhand, as hard as he could. Just in time, Ron snatched a pick-axe that lay nearby and blocked Locke’s blow. He raised the axe and made to swing it at Locke when the cybermonkey re-engaged the feedback. Electricity surged through Ron’s body, causing him to drop the axe and collapse to his knees. Locke went to his own knees and slammed a right fist across Ronin’s jaw as hard as he could.

Rufus scampered beneath the conveyor belt toward the base of the waterfall and glared angrily up at the monkey, who was too busy hopping up and down in evil glee at Ron’s imminent demise. The mole-rat made his way hastily over to the waterfall and flung himself at the lip of the nearest bucket, which had just come from beneath the surface of the water and began ascending. He pulled himself up to the rim and leaped upward, catching the next bucket and struggled to pull himself up.

Ron, still in pain from the blows and the feedback, writhed on the conveyor belt as Locke stood triumphantly over him, placed one foot on Ronin’s chest, and began to dig his heel into the ninja. The cybermonkey shut off the feedback once more. Ron grabbed Locke’s foot and twisted as hard as he could. Unable to help himself, Locke tumbled to the conveyor while Ron got up and ran up the belt, away from the saw blade. Again the monkey turned on the IDOL and again Ron seized up in agony, collapsing to the surface of the conveyor. Locke picked him up and slammed his right fist into Ronin’s face, then once more stood above him and ground his heel into Ron’s chest. This time the monkey didn’t turn off the feedback, but grinned a hideous evil glee at watching his master’s tormentor suffer, oblivious to anything else around him.

••

Kim Stoppable fought her way through several henchmen – they seemed to be everywhere, busily preparing for something – and into the inner workings of the compound. At every turn, after dispatching a henchman or two, she would call out her daughter’s name. At one point, she stumbled through an outer door and into a large sort of courtyard in time to watch as a massive hoverjet lift into the air. Dementor stood on the edge of the loading platform of the jet and grinned down impassively at his one-time teen foe. He turned and walked into the interior of the aircraft as the loading door closed and the hoverjet soared into the air.

Kim was sure Doctor Jones and her daughter were on that jet.

“Veronica!” She shouted above the roar of the departing engines.

Dutifully, as though she had just been called to dinner, Veronica emerged from behind several bushes at the edge of the forest on the far end of the courtyard and ran toward her mom, who picked her up and hugged her very tightly. Veronica turned in her mother’s arms and pointed up at the aircraft which was now a distant speck in the sky. She uttered several earnest words, but since her vocabulary included only one word in English, her mother did not understand what she meant. Kim felt the time to deal with Dementor would be later. For now, she needed to find Ron and help him.

••

Locke was no longer punching his rival. He simply stood there with a triumphant look on his face and his heel on Ron’s chest, pinning him to the conveyor belt as they slowly drew nearer to the spinning saw blade. Ron was in agony. Blinding white fire seemed to course through him, rendering him helpless to even remove the heavy foot that pinned him down. He craned his neck and noticed with despair that the saw blade was now very close. He could feel the small wind from its spinning and vaguely began to wonder what it would feel like being cut in half lengthwise, and how long he would have to endure it before consciousness left him.

The cybermonkey, engrossed in Ronin’s impending death, felt a tiny arm slither around his neck and slam him to the ground. The IDOL went tumbling away. Dazed, the monkey looked up into the face of pure, naked mole rat fury and felt a tiny fist hold him down as Rufus reached across him and attempted to grab the IDOL. The two struggled for several seconds as they each tried to get a hold of the piece of technology that was keeping Ron from doing anything but dying.

Kim came running into the area in time to see her husband’s head move within inches of the saw blade.

Ron uttered a painful yell of desperation, and readied himself for his own death. His whole world was filled with the blurry motions of circular rusted metal.

In one last desperate move, Rufus moved himself upward and brought his elbow down on the monkey’s chest. The monkey folded up while the mole-rat dove across him and slammed his tiny fist down on the IDOL.

The feedback shut off instantly.

Ron’s head came up just before the blade took him as his hand snaked out and grasped whatever was nearby. Ironically, it was a handheld saw blade leaning against the conveyor. He brought the blade up and slammed it into Locke’s side. Locked released his foot and fell with a pain-induced grunt. Ron scrambled upward and positioned himself astride Locke, pummeling him with his fists before he’d even settled on the man’s chest. Locke endured a rapid succession of blows to his face from Ron’s right fist, and struggled to get out from under his enemy.

Kim looked from the top of the waterfall to the conveyor belt and for several seconds, she almost thought she was seeing double.

Rufus barreled his right fist across the monkey’s face, then brought it back across in a…

…vicious backhand that made Locke’s head snap backward. Ron repeated the move, once again thundering a right fist across Locke’s jaw…

…and bringing it backhanded across the monkey’s face, again causing his head to jerk backward. Rufus picked the monkey up by the scruff of the neck with his left hand and sent several rapid-fire blows into the face of the gibbering simian with his right fist.

Locked grabbed a stray piece of wood and bashed it into the side of Ron’s head, causing him to fall backward, away from the saw. Both men scrambled to their feet, but Locke was just too close to the spinning blade. It caught the villain’s pant leg and pulled him in. In a blind panic, Locked grabbed wildly about for something to hold on to, and managed to catch a rope that went upward, through a pulley, and back down to hang just near where Ron was standing.

Instinctively compassionate, Ron grabbed the rope and pulled as hard as he could to try and free his opponent but it was too late. In less than half a second, Locke was pulled into the blade and perished screaming.

Kim covered her daughter’s eyes and turned away. Ron was pulled up to a catwalk above the conveyor and also turned his head away, unwilling to see what came out at the end of the conveyor.

It wasn’t much.

The cybermonkey managed to struggle free of Rufus’s grasp and hit the mole-rat several times, knocking his opponent to the ground. Rufus came up with the IDOL and swung it, slamming it into the cybermonkey’s face and shattering that part of the simian’s head that was metal and circuits. The monkey let out a howl of rage and came at Rufus, who sidestepped his attacker’s charge and watched as the monkey plunged over the ledge and into the pool below. The water shorted out whatever was keeping the cybermonkey alive and its pitiful existence ended only seconds after its master’s. Rufus tossed the IDOL into the water as well and watched as it also shorted out, becoming a virtually useless hunk of metal and wiring.

“Ron!” Kim called up to her husband, “We have to get out of here! This place is still crawling with Locke’s henchmen!”

As if to confirm this fact, one of them charged Ron. The ninja grabbed onto a cross beam above him and swung both his feet into the attacker’s chest, sending him plunging to the ground below. Ron took two steps and then uttered a weary, frustrated grunt as another henchman came at him with a length of pipe. Ron ducked the swing, threw a fist into the man’s face, and sent him tumbling over as well.

Ron looked to the top of the waterfall, pointed, and bellowed, “Rufus! Quit fooling around with that Monkey and get down into the ninjet!”

Rufus gave him a thumbs up and began to make his way down the waterfall.

In the meantime, Kim had run over to the ninjet and took quick stock of the situation. It was clearly out commission. She couldn’t bring any of the internal systems up, the windshield and some of the body parts had been severely damaged, and all four tires had been scorched off by fire. Only the rims remained.

This gave Kim an idea.

Suddenly, henchmen came pouring out of the woodwork, some of them armed with blasters. Ron ran down the length of the catwalk only to be set upon by four goons. To tired to fight it out, he turned and ran back the way he had come. Blaster fire seared through the air.

Fortunately for Kim, no one was taking notice of her as of yet. She set Veronica down, got around behind the ninjet and put her shoulder to the bumper, pushing with every ounce of strength she had in her. Slowly, almost maddeningly, the car that had once been an aircraft began to inch forward, rolling across the ground on its rims. As blaster fire sizzled through the air above her and her daughter’s heads, Kim managed to get the ninjet onto the railroad tracks, its rims settling perfectly onto the rails almost as though the one-time Lamborghini had been a mine cart in a previous life. The vehicle almost immediately began to roll down the ever-so-slight incline that led away from the lumber camp and down the narrow mountain valley. Kim shouted quickly to Ron, picked up Veronica, and climbed into the ninjet.

Rufus scampered across the open ground and onto the tracks, running as quickly as he could toward the rolling vehicle. Kim leaned out and peered behind her just in time to see a henchman running as fast as he could toward the mole-rat.

“Rufus! Behind you!”

The mole-rat quickly dodged to the side, catching the henchman off guard. The goon tripped and fell but managed to catch the back bumper of the ninjet with his hands. The car dragged him along for several yards while Rufus ran out onto the tracks, up the back of the bad guy, and scrambled up onto the rear end of the ninjet.

“Rufus!” Veronica squealed and clapped her hands as the little pink rodent made his way into the cockpit.

Kim’s jaw dropped, and then she smiled as she shook her head at her daughter, “Your father is going to be so jealous that he isn’t your first word.”

Henchmen closed in around Ron on the catwalk. The one closest to him swung an axe. Ron ducked and the blade sliced through a rope holding up several pieces of equipment attached to a zip line. The equipment crashed to the ground, while Ron grabbed what was left of the rope and swung himself out over the compound. The zip line carried him along the tracks as blaster fire cut through the air all around him. He caught up to the ninjet and dropped lightly onto the hood.

The car picked up more speed on the railroad tracks and made its way out of the lumber camp and down the narrow mountain valley.

••

They had discovered the temple – that, at least, was what Indy was calling it for lack of a better term – through a combination of luck and deductive reasoning. Mostly luck. Africa being the vast continent that it was, they made their best guess and decided to search the Congo river basin. Midway through the first day, Indy acted on a hunch and directed Zim to fly up one of the tributaries which they spent the rest of the day exploring. Just after sunset, they received two surprises; one pleasant, and the other rather nasty.

The pleasant surprise was, of course, the discovery of what Indy was absolutely positive was the temple that held the power to activate the Tempus Simia. The unpleasant surprise was the sight of a camp, electric lights, a roughly built aircraft runway carved out of the jungle, and several German aircraft, including six BF109 fighters in the immediate vicinity of the structure.

“That’s it”, they both said simultaneously to each other.

“Despite the fact that it’s a giant monkey head carved from stone, that temple is clearly far-eastern architecture somewhere between the second and fifth centuries. It has to be the location where one is supposed to take the assembled talisman and discover its power.” Indy hastily explained to Zim.

“And those Nazi aircraft aren’t there at random. They’ve been busy down there, but how could they be this far ahead of us when in Australia we arrived so soon after they had been there?” Zim wondered aloud as she circled around for another overhead pass of the area.

Indy cast an untrusting glance at her and was about to voice his suspicions of her double agent status when something occurred to him, “This isn’t the same team that was in Australia. These guys have been sent here in advance while a detachment was dispatched to Australia to recover the head piece. But I don’t understand how they would know where to look, they never discovered the treasure chamber beneath Osaka Castle.”

Zim connected the dots, “They didn’t need to. They probably knew about this place all along. I don’t know if you ever heard about this, but Hitler had teams of Nazi Archeologists scouring the globe for relics he hoped would bring some sort of supernatural power to his armies.”

Indy nodded, “I’d heard something like that awhile back.”

“We know for certain the Italians conquered Ethiopia,” she continued, “But we never really knew the extent of just how far into Africa they or the Nazis managed to extend their reach. At some point, someone may have discovered this temple and reported back to their superiors.”

Indy snapped his fingers in both realization and a sudden recall of a memory, “A French archeologist by the name of Belloq once bragged to me that he had discovered a Chinese temple in Central Africa! He was always doing jobs for the Third Reich. There may be writings or carvings in that temple that indicate the location of the head and body pieces. Or at least they would indicate the existence of those pieces via the instructions on how to acquire the power contained in the idol.”

Indy fell momentarily silent while gazing at the lieutenant. His suspicions about her being a spy were cast in doubt once again. If the neo-Nazis had pieced together the information from the site below them…but there were still questions he couldn’t quite answer. In any case, some measure of trust in her had just been restored.

“Do you know what happened to this archeologist?” Zim asked, “Is there any way to contact him?”

“No,” Indy said firmly, “About five years before the war, he had an encounter with a Higher Power that basically blew his mind.”

Zim looked at him quizzically and was about to ask him what he meant when several immensely loud pops rattled the plane. Hot metal went whizzing by Indy’s face and shattered the glass on his right. He looked wildly around and then had to brace himself as Zim pulled sharply up on the wheel, lurching the plane into a steep climb. Then a rumble caught his attention and he looked out what remained of the shattered window and caught the tail of a BF-109 as it passed beneath them heading almost in the opposite direction.

“Someone warned them we were coming!” Zim shouted as she put the plane into a dive and banked sharply away from the temple.

As much as Indy wanted to tell her to stay close to the temple, he decided it would be best to figure a way out of their current predicament and then come back later and decide what to do about getting access to the temple.

“Grab the Browning and get back to the rear hatch!” Zim shouted, “See what you can do to slow him down while I try to lose him somehow. And tie yourself down with something! I’m not going to lose you after coming this far!”

Indy was already moving, but her sentiment wasn’t lost on him. “You won’t,” he said quietly.

Somehow, over the noise, she had heard him.

Indy struggled to make his way to the rear of the aircraft; a Herculean task considering the plane’s bucking and rolling under the strain of Zim’s attempts to evade the German fighter craft. Both the archeologist and the lieutenant knew, however, that evading the smaller, more maneuverable plane would take a miracle beyond the capabilities of Zim’s piloting skills.

Looking about the increasingly darkening cabin, Indy finally spied the large Browning Automatic Rifle and heaved it up to rest on his shoulder, making his way to the rear hatch. It took most of his strength to pull the door open and secure it. Before he did so, he lashed himself with a rope to what he hoped was a sturdy anchor point on the floor. It was somewhat hard to see with the deep twilight and the wind rushing into his face, but Indy figured the Browning would do little more than distract the German pilot anyway, so aiming wasn’t a crucial priority.

Zim glanced back briefly in his direction to make sure he was all right, then did a double take, “How does your hat stay on like that?”

“Staples!” He yelled back dryly.

The 109 was coming around for another pass. The pilot apparently did not see the man standing at the rear hatch of the large amphibious aircraft. Indy raised the gun to waist level and pulled the trigger. Fire spewed forth in rapid staccato flashes from the muzzle of the rifle. One or two bullets must have found a target because the fighter craft suddenly banked hard right and away from them. Indy took the opportunity to slap another clip into the rifle and raised it again, waiting tensely, knowing the German would not make the same mistake twice. In the dim twilight, he watched as the enemy craft swung around; a menacing shadow that receded, minimized, and then began to grow again. Indy clenched his teeth and raised the rifle, this time to his shoulder. When he felt the 109 was in range, he pulled the trigger and braced himself against the repeated knocks of the rifle butt on his shoulder. Again, fire erupted from the gun. This time, the German plane continued on a diagonal course toward the rear of their plane but did not swing around to line up its guns with the larger plane’s engines or cockpit. For a brief second, Indy thought it was coming straight for him, but then something about its trajectory told him otherwise. He continued firing as the German plane swung around behind their tail and then straightened out for a shot. Indy was so intent on firing at the other aircraft that he had to abruptly pull the gun up or risk shooting their own tail off.

It was then a sudden realization came to him.

“He shot us down!” Jones shouted.

“What!?” Zim hollered back over her shoulder.

The plane suddenly began to shimmy as the BF-109 tore their left wing nearly to shreds.

“Get up here!” Zim bellowed, “We’re going down!”

With many annoyed grunts, Indy clawed and pulled his way to the front of the plane, just barely managing to strap himself into the co-pilot’s chair once more.

“He shot us down” Indy yelled again, incredulous.

“I know he shot us down!” Zim yelled back, struggling with the controls.

“No, not him!” Indy gestured vaguely toward the direction of the 109, “My dad!”

“Huh!? Zim shouted in disbelief.

“About seven years ago, my dad and I were in a biplane being pursued by German fighters. He was manning the rear gun while I flew. I think he shot out our own tail section and blamed it on the Nazis! He lied to me!”

“You do realize we’re in the process of crashing, right?” Zim was beside herself.

“I’ve crashed before,” Indy said with a dismissive wave, “I can’t believe he lied to me like that!”

“You didn’t shoot us down just now and lie to me about it, did you?” Zim asked sarcastically.

Indy merely and glared at her.

Zim nodded toward the instrument panel above his head, “See that black lever on the roof? Get ready to pull it toward you when I say so.”

Indy couldn’t tell if the ground was looming because it was so dark by now. Zim switched on the exterior landing lights and almost yelped to see the tops of the trees whipping by so close to the bottom of their plane. Indy reached up and placed his hand on the lever. Zim looked about quickly, then turned the controls hard over to the left. The plane responded, but sluggishly, slowly arcing to its port side. The treetops ended abruptly, below them was only darkness, and the air suddenly got a little cooler. They were over the river.

“There,” Zim pointed. The craft arced back to the right, and again treetops began whipping by, though they were much closer.

“Lieutenant?” Indy was suddenly nervous.

“Just be ready with that lever!” Zim shouted.

Indy gritted his teeth as they rapidly approached a fairly narrow space between two very tall trees.

“Are you crazy?” Indy shouted, “Don’t go between them!”

Zim pushed forward slightly on the controls, nosing the craft downward.

“Now!” Zim shouted just before they hit the trees.

Indy yanked back as hard as he could on the lever a split second before the fuselage passed almost perfectly between the two massive trunks. A loud crash accompanied a violent lurch slightly to the right as the plane’s forward momentum was drastically reduced. Zim and Indy’s heads whipped forward and then snapped back as the fuselage plummeted downward. When they hit the water, they were treated to a very brief look beneath the surface of the river through the forward windows, then the craft surged upward as water ran off the nose (some of which came in through Indy’s broken window) and frothed all about the plane. Then for a second there was only the sound of lapping water and the distant rumble of the German plane. Zim switched off the lights and they both held their breath. The enemy plane passed over them once or twice, but by then it was too dark to see anything. It circled, then retreated toward the last of the fading light in the west.

“Well, that was someth-“ Indy turned toward her.

But Zim was already up and moving. She opened a storage compartment in the rear of the plane and pulled out a heavy piece of iron with a loop on one end. She took the rope and looped it through the iron, tying it off. Then she tied the other end to the same point Indy had tied his rope and tossed the iron into the water. A moment later, Indy swayed on his feet as the momentum of the plane was halted and the anchor did its work.

“Detachable wings,” Zim said, anticipating his question, “That lever released the main anchor bolts holding the wings to the fuselage, but it takes a whole crew of mechanics to remove them and since we didn’t have a crew on hand…”

“You knocked them off with the trees,” Indy said smiling, “But why go to the trouble of removing them at all?”

Zim gave him a look as though he should have known the answer to that, “So we can float back down to the temple, of course. Didn’t you notice I was staying within eyesight of the river?”

“I was kind of busy,” Indy replied with wonder, “I’m impressed. Not that many people can think with a clear head in such situations.”

“Part of my training I suppose” she shrugged, “Anyway, the wings would have just added extra weight and we need to be as light as possible if this is going to work.”

“What exactly are you proposing?” Indy had no clue.

“Well, the wings are gone, but we still have the engines,” Zim explained, “In theory, we should be able to use what’s left of this plane as a sort of swamp boat, like those found in the Florida Everglades.”

“But the fuel was housed in the wings,” Indy pointed out.

“We can rig the last fuel drum up between the engines and run the intake lines in there,” Zim replied, “And we should be able to detach the rudder and re-attach it to its two lower anchor points on the tail. The bottom of it will then be in the water and function like a regular boat rudder.”

“In theory,” Indy said with a grin.

“In theory,” she smiled back.

“You really are a piece of work Lieutenant Possible,” Indy took his hat off and brushed back his hair, “So when do we get started?”

“Not until morning. For the time being, we eat,” she ordered, “Then we rest. The work will have to be done at first light. All we have is this one flashlight and we’ll need to conserve its power.”

“But what about the landing lights?” Indy asked.

“They were on the wings,” Zim said with a forlorn nod.

There was silence for a short time.

“OK, so when does room service get here?” Indy asked with a grin.

Zim brightened, “I’m afraid the menu is limited.”

“It’s all right,” Indy’s grin broadened into a warm smile, “Your company will more than make up for the food.”

Zim quickly turned the flashlight away from her own face which was in the process of blushing, and moved to one of the storage compartments, pulling out a couple of field rations and a container of water along with two small emergency candles and matches. Indy draped a cloth across a crate to make a crude table with their duffels to sit on.

The candles lit, Zim set the field rations before them and opened the canteen, taking a drink and then passing the container to him.

Indy sighed wistfully and grinned, “I thought I’d eaten my last one of these. I’m betting they still taste like cardboard with just a slight hint of actual food flavoring.”

Zim giggled, “Some of them are actually rather tast-…no, you’re right, they’re horrible. When have you had these before?”

“When I was in the service,” He gave her an odd look.

“Which service?” Zim asked through a mouthful of food, “I remember Colonel Eaton saying the U.S. had kept you from being drafted.”

“Well yes, in the technical sense. My teaching position at Marshall was suspended because it was deemed temporarily unnecessary by the Department of War. That would have made me eligible for the draft.”

“I thought you would have been too old,” Zim said stone faced.

Indy scowled at her, “That’s very funny, Lieutenant! Didn’t you see my file before we met?”

“No,” Zim shrugged, again talking through a mouthful of food. Had Indy done that it would have been disgusting, but on her, it was endearingly cute, “The Colonel briefed me before I flew to Guadalcanal to pick you up, but all he told me was who you are, what you do, and what the U.S. wanted you for. So what do you mean you were technically kept out of the draft?”

“I mean I served,” Indy explained, “But not with any of the regular forces. I was with the Office of Strategic Services throughout the war.”

Zim suddenly stopped chewing and her jaw dropped, “You were in the OSS?”

Indy nodded, a very self-satisfied grin spreading across his face in anticipation of her next question, “I was discharged a full Colonel soon after the Japanese surrendered.”

Zim dropped the morsel she had been intending to put into her mouth the second she swallowed the previous one. She ignored it.

“Then you’re… you are…,” She leaned forward and glared at him through narrowed eyes, “What is your real name, including your rank?”

“Colonel Henry Jo-“

“I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” Zim immediately stood up and bumped her head on the roof of the plane. She stood there, hunched over slightly, rubbing her head and gesturing almost furiously at Indy, “You’re that Colonel Henry Jones of the OSS?”

“One and the same, sweetheart.” Indy finally felt like he had the upper hand for once, and he was going to enjoy it to its fullest.

She sat back down again and pointed at him, “Did you really help Clause Helberg and the other Norwegian Commandos destroy the Nazi supply of deuterium at Telemark?”

Indy nodded, “Clause and I still keep in contact with each other. I got a medal for that mission, and originally I wasn’t even supposed to be on it.”

“I know you got a medal,” Zim said with wonder, “And officially, you never were part of that team. Did you know you were destroying Hitler’s only shot at an atomic weapon?”

“I wound up going as a technical advisor because of the conversations I’d had with Albert.” Indy leaned over, pointing at her in a manner conveying the message that he was about to tell a story, “You know we didn’t even get the whole supply, The Nazis managed to-“

“’Albert’? You met Albert Einstein?” Zim demanded.

“He had some questions about an artifact that-“

But Zim was impatient, “Did the mission in Berlin really happen the way I heard? With you and that British Secret Service man acting as double agents?”

“Yeah, his name’s George McHale. Good guy. He and I didn’t even know the other was an intelligence agent, much less under cover as ‘doubles’. We discovered each other’s secret when this girl we both knew at a pub in Berlin-“

“All this time!” Zim said shaking her head, “All this time I’ve been working with Colonel Henry Jones.”

“I suppose you ha-“

“And you outrank me!”

“Well,” Indy no longer wanted to rub it in, ”I was discharged. I’m a civilian again.”

“You probably saved this planet with what you did at Telemark.” She said almost accusingly, “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh that’s right, you thought I had read your file! I don’t even have clearance to read your file!”

“Now remember,” Indy explained, “We didn’t get the whole supply of deuterium, Clause had to take a team back in and destroy the remaining barrels, and I wasn’t even there for that.”

“Why did you spit out the word lieutenant every time you said it?”

Indy sat back and simply gazed at her, “Our initial meeting wasn’t exactly a friendly one. You said I could either call you Lieutenant Johnson, or just lieutenant.”

“So you said it all this time knowing you outranked me! I must look like such an ass!”

“Now hold on, Zim, I never said you looked like-“

Sometimes it is the oddest of places that chemistry can mix in just the right amounts and create an atmosphere that seems almost fictionally romantic. When Zim had lit the candles and turned off the flashlight, the interior of the plane was washed in a warm, but very dim glow. The gentle rocking of the fuselage in addition to the sounds of the water lapping against the aircraft and a cool breeze drifting in and out…

Indy never finished his sentence because she leaned across the table, pinned him to the side of the plane, and kissed him.

••

The ninjet looked a lot less like the sleek amphibious aircraft it once was, and more like the mid-80’s Lamborghini Countach it had originally been. But the wheels were holding true to the rails and though it made some terrible noises – creaks and metallic grinding sounds – it did roll fairly free along the tracks, which seemed to be sloping downward at and increasing rate.

Veronica squealed in delight when her father climbed into the cockpit with the rest of them. He took his daughter in his arms and kissed her forehead, then handed her back to Kim.

“I still can’t contact Wade,” Ron said tapping the logo on his chest, “How about you?”

Kim shook her head.

“Rufus?” Ron turned to the rodent, “You’re still active. Can you contact Wade?”

Rufus shook his head and pointed at the base of his skull and gibbered the word “battery!”

“How long will it last?” Ron asked his friend.

Rufus held up a paw with four claws extended.

“Four hours?” Kim conformed.

Rufus nodded.

“Locke must have used the IDOL to shut down all our communication signals at the source instead of just interfering with them. You think there’s a chance we can call up the Lotus Blade at this distance?” He looked at Kim with a half grin.

“It’s at Monique’s store, remember? Even if we could, someone might get hurt.” She answered. It had been decided some time before that the best safe-keeping location for the Lotus Blade would be anywhere other than Ron or Wade’s homes.

They were picking up speed now, nearing the outer edge of the valley. The ninjet thundered along the rails while Ron tapped the brakes lightly every now and then when they came to a curve in the tracks. Abruptly, the valley ended in an almost sheer cliff that plunged a couple of thousand feet downward. The tracks curved sharply to the right and ran along a very narrow ledge that had been carved out of the cliff face. The slight incline of the rails increased, as did the velocity of the ninjet.

Then, rocks burst forth from the cliff face above them, some of the smaller pieces raining down on their vehicle. Ron leaned out and look upward in time to see more blaster fire strike very close to them. He turned and looked back, then heaved an exasperated sigh as four hoverjets came streaking out of the valley and turned to bear down on them.

“We got company!” Ron said with some annoyance, “I was hoping that with Dementor gone and Locke dead, the rest of them would just give up.”

“Maybe they have standing orders to kill us at any cost.” Kim said thoughtfully, “Who knows? Maybe there’s even an incentive clause with bonuses.”

Ron gave her a look that informed her she was clearly not helping. He turned in his seat to get a better view of the incoming enemies. Rufus jumped down to the floor and worked the brake pedal.

“Let her go!” Ron said to the rodent, “Let go of the brake!”

“What?” Rufus gibbered.

“Let her go,” Ron lifted his friend up off the floor and put him into Veronica’s eager arms, “Our only chance is to outrun ‘em!”

Blaster fire was now exploding all around them at an alarming rate. The ninjet hurtled forward, picking up speed exponentially. Kim squirmed around so she could get a good look at their pursuers. The cliff face abruptly curved to the right and blended into a steep mountainside, which meant the tracks had to curve abruptly as well. The ninjet lurched up onto its two left wheels and angled up precariously as it threatened to topple over the side and into the abyss below. For a split second, all four occupants in the vehicle got a terrifying view of thousands of feet of nothingness with the ground beyond. Just before the curve ended, the ninjet smacked back onto all for wheels and continued downward on the rails.

“Rufus!” Ron hollered, still gripping the back of his seat so as to keep from falling out of the car.

“Huh?” The rodent answered.

“Get down there and take the brake!” He set the mole rat back on the floor again, “Watch it on the curves or we’ll fly right off the tracks! Kim, you let him know when a curve is coming!”

Terrified, Kim could only nod.

The tracks now twisted back and forth with the undulating curve of the mountainside. Kim barely had time to call out for brakes before the ninjet went thundering into a turn. They were moving so fast each of them was convinced the vehicle would fly off the rails at any moment. When they reached a short straight segment, one of the hoverjets moved in. Ron slid out of the cockpit and hauled himself up onto the roof of the car. Slowly, with blaster fire sizzling through the air all around him, he made his way to the rear of the vehicle and gripped the spoiler. Wrenching it free with all his strength, Ron stood up for a split second and hurled the spoiler straight up above his head, then flattened himself out on the vehicle again, just barely managing to keep himself from sliding off. The black piece of fiberglass sailed upward and glanced off the front windscreen of the closing hoverjet, but instead of bouncing away harmlessly, it got sucked into the air intake and instantly functioned like a wrench in the works. The engine whined, belched smoke, and lost power. The hoverjet dropped like a rock onto the tracks and exploded in a massive orange ball of fire that gave Ron very light burns on his exposed skin.

Despite the flash of heat, Ron managed to grin while Kim and Veronica cheered (Veronica wasn’t sure why, but if mommy was doing it, she certainly was going to as well). The euphoria died instantly when two more hoverjets tore through the explosion and came hurtling at them. Ron scrambled around and looked forward. They were coming into thick forest as the mountainside grew less and less steep. The tracks ran straight and level for a good half mile. At the center point of this stretch of track was a massive stack of logs on a man-made platform hanging slightly out over the tracks. It was clear that at one point in the past, these logs were intended to be loaded on a train and taken up the mountain to be milled, but for whatever reason, no one had ever gotten around to retrieving them. The entire stack was being held up precariously by three individual logs that ran from the ground beneath the log stack diagonally up to a point where they held up the lip of the platform that hung out over the tracks. Ron scrambled back into the cockpit and threw himself across Kim’s lap, grabbing her door handle and throwing open her door. Then he Pulled Kim and Veronica away from the door to the center of the cockpit. The scissor-like passenger door of the ninjet slid upward and slammed each prop log in rapid succession, tearing through the rotted wood almost like tissue paper. The door was wrenched completely off by the third prop, but it had done its work. All four of the vehicle’s occupants peered behind them in time to see the massive pile of lumber come crashing down upon the tracks. The pilot of the lead hoverjet did not have enough time to react and slammed full force into the pile of debris and exploded, scattering shrapnel and massive shards of wood in all directions. The pilot behind him did manage to pull up in time, but his craft was shredded by all the flying rubble and fell to earth like a dying bird. It exploded on impact.

The ninjet shot out of the forest and back onto steep, rocky mountain terrain. The fourth and final hoverjet moved in, bearing down on them with its blasters firing as rapidly as possible. Small explosions erupted all around the ninjet, and some of the shots did hit the craft, but none of them made it inside the cockpit. Then the blasters fell silent. Ron peered out the side of the ninjet to see twisted and disfigured metal on various locations of the hoverjet.

“He melted his guns!” Ron called over his shoulder to his wife.

Kim laughed nervously and held on to her daughter. They were traveling so fast now that she began to wonder if the ninjet might not simply fly up into the air from the sheer speed. Incredibly, the hoverjet actually closed on them instead of pulling away as he expected it to. The roaring aircraft pulled up along side them, close enough so Ron could reach out his arm and almost touch the side of it. A door slid open on the side of the hoverjet revealing a henchman with a handheld blaster raised and about to fire. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Ron leaned out and grabbed the blaster by the muzzle, yanking it out of the henchman’s hands. The action of being pulled forward sent the henchmen tumbling out of the aircraft. Ron went to turn the blaster around and lost his hold on the weapon, dropping it. A second henchman leaped through the door and landed on the roof of the ninjet. Ron scrambled out of the cockpit once more and swung a leg out, sweeping the goon’s own legs out from under him. Two quick lefts and a solid right punch sent the henchman tumbling off the roof. In the meantime, yet another goon had leaped from the hoverjet to the cockpit and scrambled inside only to meet Kim’s fist square in the face. He fell backward and out of the ninjet. Ron scrambled back into the cockpit as the enemy aircraft finally pulled away. The ninjet hurtled around a gradual curve to the left as Kim and Ron shared a triumphant smile. Then they both looked forward and their hearts stopped.

At some point in the past, the tracks had spanned a deep gorge about half a mile wide, but one rather harsh winter had piled up a huge amount of snow on the bridge and it had collapsed.

There was no way to stop in time. And while they were certainly traveling at high velocity, both Ron and Kim knew for certain they didn’t have enough momentum to make it to the other side.

“Duck!” Ron practically screamed as he pulled his wife and daughter’s heads down, then spread himself as protectively as he could across his family.

Rufus, on the other hand, had scrambled up over the back of the seats and into the engine compartment. Just before the tracks ended, the mole rat tore several wires from a panel and impaled himself in the back of the neck with them.

There was a spark.

The ninjet’s engines roared to life.

Kim, Ron and Veronica were flattened against the seats as the craft surged forward, rocketed off the mangled end of the tracks, and sailed out over the gorge. Halfway across, the thrusters quit, but it was enough. Against every calculable odd, the ninjet dropped neatly back onto the rails on the other side, which now ran straight across a broad plateau, curved slightly to the left and then ran alongside a manmade lake.

Ron and Kim sat up and looked around in disbelief while Rufus struggled limply over the seats and collapsed wheezing into Ron’s lap.

They rolled past the lake’s outlet point, then the tracks descended gently into a wide canyon and followed alongside the river that flowed out of the dam.

“All right”, Kim said, breathing heavily.

“What?” Ron asked, opening the glove compartment and gently placing Rufus inside.

“Brakes,” Kim panted, “Put on the brakes.”

“OK”, Ron nodded with a smile and pressed down on the brake pedal as hard as he could. With a grinding of metal, the ninjet began to slow down. Then the brake line snapped and the pedal sank uselessly to the floor. Ron disbelievingly stomped on it several times before he accepted the fact the brakes were out. The ninjet surged forward once more.

A roar on their right drew their attention to the river. The last remaining hoverjet streaked low over the surface of the water, hurtling upstream. But it raced right by them and continued onward toward the dam, suddenly climbing high into the air and then returning once more into a dive back toward the surface.

As it happened, the last remaining henchman, nearly out of fuel and with completely melted blaster cannons, had devised one last ditch attempt to destroy the Stoppable family. When he reached the apogee of his climb, he set the hoverjet into a dive, pointing straight at the dam, then bailed out of the aircraft. His plan was to have the jet crash into the dam, flooding the shallow canyon and wiping the Stoppables off the face of the earth. He figured the initial deluge would surge beneath him as he sailed gently downward under his parachute and by the time he hit the water, the river would mostly be back to its normal flow. He figured he could swim to shore easily enough.

One or two things went wrong with his plan.

Because he was so low to the ground, he pulled the ripcord as soon as he stepped out of the hoverjet. The nylon rope holding him to the chute caught on the tail section of the aircraft. And while the parachute did actually deploy, it was now anchored to the jet which slowed the craft’s downward progress considerably so that when it reached the dam, it merely bounced off, plunged into the water and sank, taking the pilot with it.

In the meantime, the ninjet was hurtling along as fast as it ever had up to this point. While the tracks’ downward slope was indeed gentle and mostly straight, it was still downward. They raced involuntarily along the edge of the river, trying to figure out a way to slow themselves down or perhaps even stop. But their brainstorming session was cut short when the tracks followed a gentle bend in the river, straightened out, and then ended abruptly at an old wooden dock; presumably the place where the lumber was offloaded from the train and onto a freighter or a barge. The river itself also leveled out into a wide, placid avenue that was even now filled with recreational boaters and fishermen.

There was no time to do anything.

The ninjet sailed almost lazily off the end of the dock, hit the water, skipped and sailed about three feet into the air, hit the water once more and then a foot and a half into the air again, then skimmed along the surface for about four seconds before it lost most of its forward momentum and sank. Everyone made it out, and were immediately rescued by several nearby fishermen.

As the fishermen’s aluminum boat pulled toward shore with them inside, Ron sat next to his wife who was hugging a shivering Veronica, who in turn was protectively hugging a nearly unconscious Rufus, and gazed at the bubbles that frothed to the surface at the spot where the ninjet had sunk into the depths.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

“What”? Kim asked, knowing by his very body language that this sigh was for a specific reason.

“I’m gonna miss that car.” He said wistfully.

Kim shook her head and leaned up toward him, kissing him lightly on the cheek, “I would rather be missing a car, than have to be missing you or Ronnie-Anne.”

He smiled at her, wrapped his arms around his wife and daughter, and kissed Veronica on the forehead. He then closed his eyes and leaned his head on Kim’s shoulder.

Then he opened one eye, gazed out over the water, and uttered one more tiny, imperceptible yet wistful sigh.

He really was gonna miss that car.

••

Indy was sitting on the top of the plane, between the two engines which had long since stopped running. He was leaning against a crate. Sitting on that crate with her arms hung loosely about his neck was a smiling Zim Possible. They were both just sort of dreamily gazing at the slowly passing shoreline, not saying anything. Not needing to.

They had made a good bit of progress down the river once the modifications were completed. It was exhilarating, speeding across the water in an aircraft that had now been modified into an air boat. The rudder functioned well enough, and though it was fairly sluggish, Zim managed to keep the craft centered in the river. They had made incredible time, right up until the moment they ran out of gas.

Initially, Zim was furious at herself for misjudging the amount of fuel they had left.

“Quit beating yourself up, Lieutenant,” Indy admonished, “It’s an amazing feat of engineering just getting us this far back down the river.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You did good,” he said with a lopsided grin and kissed her on the forehead.

She smiled, “Could you please stop calling me lieutenant? I think we’re a little past that now. How about Marion?”

For a brief instant, a pained look flashed across Indy’s face, then he shook his head, “How about Zim?”

“Well,” She said reluctantly, “If you must.”

They decided to let the current take them as far as they could get, and then walk the rest of the way. But since there was no engine, and thus no way to steer, there was no need to sit behind the controls in the cockpit. So it was that Indiana Jones sat with his legs dangling over the windshield of a Grumman Amphibious aircraft with the arms of an Army Intelligence officer draped about his neck in the middle of a tributary to the Congo River somewhere in Central Africa.

“I don’t suppose you get to Guam very much”, she said softly leaning down and kissing the back of his neck.

“Not really,” He replied, tipping his hat forward to giver her better access, “But you don’t intend on staying in Guam forever, do you?”

“No,” she murmured into his ear, “I suppose not.”

They were silent again. Indy began to wonder just where this relationship could go. She was much younger, of course, but there was something about her. His thoughts drifted back about nine years to Marion Ravenwood and his panicky withdrawal from her life for the second time. They had been a month away from their wedding and Indy had gotten a serious case of cold feet in the face of Impending Groom. It was something he had serious regrets over, and while there would never be another woman like Marion Ravenwood, he definitely had deep feelings for Marion Zimmer Possible. Indy had bailed out on Abner Ravenwood’s daughter because he was convinced having a family would seriously infringe on his life as an archeologist. But here was the lieutenant, raising a son alone while still being an active member of Army Intelligence, and this had given him second thoughts. Deep down, he realized he’d always wanted a son, perhaps as an opportunity to do some things right where his own father had failed. And here might be that opportunity with her arms wrapped around him in a gesture of affection he honestly didn’t think she was capable of.

She hadn’t thought she was capable of it either. It was a much warmer gesture than any of the affection she had ever shown James. But there was a spark, some mixture of chemical here that she just had never felt with her deceased husband. Indy had a genuine warmth that lurked beneath a surface of genuine toughness. It was a rare combination in a man, and his intelligence was very attractive to her; not just his education, but his intuitive nature as well. He seemed to just know things, even if he never really had any prior knowledge of whatever those things were. She began to allow for the possibility that for the first time in her life, she just might actually be in love. It made her a little afraid. Not just because of the overwhelming feelings she could sense looming in the back of her mind, but because of the nature of her mission. Would falling for Dr. Jones compromise what she was truly supposed to be doing? Would her loyalties falter, or even change?

In his head, the suspicions regarding her loyalty tried to push their way forward once again. He couldn’t help but allow for the possibility that all this was a carefully planned ruse on her part. She had been the aggressor after all. Was she toying with him here at the near end? Had she sabotaged the fuel? Perhaps dumped some out during the night while he slept to keep them from reaching the temple in time? He wanted to quash these nagging doubts but his experience with Dr. Elsa Schneider just before the war had left him more cautious, less vulnerable. And lack of vulnerability was a major roadblock to a genuinely intimate relationship. He tried to let himself go, tried desperately to put all thoughts of doubt about her away. But he just couldn’t. He sat there; a duality of emotional interplay raging inside his head. Did he love her? Could he? Or was he setting himself up for another crash and burn?

He squeezed her hand, she squeezed back and tightened her arms around him just a little more.

The sun had climbed higher as the craft drifted lazily down river. More often than not, the rear end of the plane would be facing downstream, though sometimes it would snag on some piece of stuck driftwood and slowly spin the craft in circles. For the most part, the usual jungle noises emanated from the banks of the river and the trees beyond. But at one particular bend in the river, Zim heard a rumble just a few seconds before Indy and immediately got up, climbing back into the fuselage.

“Automobiles”, Indy said aloud to himself; they had found the temple.

A hissing rush of air turned his attention to the interior of the fuselage. He peered over the side in time to see Zim putting an inflatable life raft into the water next to the plane. He swung himself into the plane and landed with a light splash. Somewhere unseen, Zim had pulled a plug of sorts. Water was already filling up the cabin.

“Hopefully it will sink before it rounds the bend,” She explained, “And I’m hoping they won’t have sentries posted on the river. In any case we shouldn’t be on this thing when it does drift past the temple.”

Indy nodded and helped her throw a few supplies, including weapons, into the boat.

“Believe it or not,” He said to her as they worked, “The sound of motors is a good sign. It means they either haven’t brought the head piece here yet, or they haven’t gotten the talisman to work.”

“Then you do believe it has power?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“My intellect tells me no,” Indy said hurriedly, “But for those men to journey on foot thousands of miles in three different directions all those years ago just to keep the thing out of anyone’s hands; somebody believed it had power.”

Zim said nothing and climbed into the life raft. The plane was taking on more water now, and as they paddled away from it, the aircraft snagged on something and halted its downstream progress. Unfortunately for them, it sank only up to the top of the windshield. What was left of the wing, as well as the engines, stayed above the surface of the river. But at least it did not drift any further downstream.

Twenty long minutes later, they pulled the life raft ashore and Zim deflated it. Rather than carrying all the supplies with them, they each took a weapon and headed toward the sound of the running motors. Somewhere between the time they left the river and the time they crept up to the edge of the airfield, the motors had shut off. All was quiet, which should not have been the case this deep in the jungle. There weren’t any animal or bird noises, just the occasional breeze would rustle through the tops of the jungle canopy. The temple loomed just beyond the brush that lined the air strip. A monkey with a gigantic head sitting upright; the entry to the temple between his forepaws. Indy figured it must have taken decades to construct. Within the entry, they could see the backs of soldiers dressed in gray who were crowded together, trying to get a look inward.

“No sentries?” Zim whispered as they peered up and down the crude runway.

“They must have brought the head piece in last night,” Indy replied, “And are probably just now beginning the ceremony to complete the talisman. I’m sure they assume they’re alone out here”

“Why did they wait until today?”

Indy shrugged at first, then looked into the sky, “When I found the location of the Ark, I had to wait until the sun was in a specific position in the sky. Something similar could be at work here.”

“And there’s a ceremony involved?”

“With these guys, there always seems to be.” Indy shrugged again and moved across the runway to the cover of the brush beyond. They made their way stealthily to a position at the edge of a clearing directly across from the temple entry. From within came a voice, and every now and then the soldiers would cheer. It was clear they would not be able to get in through the front door.

Zim raised the Browning and prepared to spray the temple entrance with bullets. Indy put his hand gently on the gun before it was fully raised and nodded upward. It seemed the mouth of the monkey, as well as the ears, were open to the interior, perhaps to allow light to get inside. They crept back into the brush and made their way around to the rear of the stone structure. With some effort, they managed to scramble up on to the foundation stone. Then Indy waited until the cheering erupted inside again. When it did, he flicked his whip upward and snagged it on an outcropping just below the neckline. He climbed several yards, then stood still for a moment, waiting for the cheers once more. When they came, Indy ran a few steps along the wall toward the front of the temple. When he got as far as he could, he turned and ran in the other direction, holding on to the whip. He ran in a wide semi-circle until he reached a foothold and, letting go of the whip, launched himself from it toward the right ear. He just barely managed to catch the edge with his arms and held on for dear life. Grimacing, he struggled to climb into the ear itself, then turned back to watch Zim do the exact same thing only in half as much time with twice the grace. She landed lightly near him and grinned.

He shook his head and returned her grin, then they both crept into the ear and reached a ledge that looked out over the interior of the temple.

The walls were decorated with carved monkeys and Chinese writing. Zim silently pointed to several lines of calligraphy which translated to something about waiting until the sun was at its highest position in the sky. Indy nodded and pointed upward to a perfectly round hole in the top of the temple’s head. Beneath them, there was nothing on the floor of the temple save for a large two story pedestal wit a stairway leading up one side. At the top was a smaller pedestal upon which rested the body of the monkey idol. At the bottom of the stairs was a heavy-set man addressing the soldiers. His back was to them until the end of his speech. Then, amid wild cheers, he turned and began climbing the staircase.

Indy almost fell off the ledge in shock.

The man who was climbing the stairs, the man who had been one step ahead of them the whole time, the man who was apparently the leader of a rogue band of neo-nazis…

…was Colonel Eaton.

The same man Indy had known as “Major Eaton” a decade before when he had shown up at Marshall College with a story about the Nazis discovering Tanis. Marcus had said they were with Army Intelligence, but then just about anyone could walk into the museum and tell Marcus he was the Pope and Brody would half believe him.

But this wasn’t possible. Indy had met with Eaton in Washington after recovering the Ark.

A darker thought crept into his mind. If Eaton truly was the leader of this Nazi faction, then just exactly who was Zim taking her orders fro-

Indy’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumble when Eaton slammed the head of the monkey idol down upon the body piece. The circle of light pouring through the hole in the ceiling had practically traveled up the stairs with the Nazi commander and was now bathing the top of the pedestal in a bright yellow blaze. The eyes of the monkey statue burst forth in a bright crimson which was immediately followed by a visible crimson shockwave that exploded outward in all directions. Everyone on the floor of the temple was knocked backward off their feet except for Eaton himself. Indy just managed to keep his footing and peered intently at the top of the pedestal, fascinated by what was happening. The air behind Eaton seemed to crack, as stone cracks when it undergoes too much stress. The cracks immediately swirled into a vortex. Eaton turned and stepped into it.

Nothing happened for several seconds.

Then two figures stepped out from the still swirling vortex. One of them was Eaton. The other was also instantly recognizable. He had a short mustache, was dressed in a Nazi military uniform, and his eyes were a cold, hard brown.

“Heil Hitler,” Eaton said, his voice filled with emotion as he dropped to one knee.

“HEIL HITLER!” the temple rang out with shouts as ecstatic Nazi soldiers each held up one stiff arm in a salute.

Indy turned to look at Zim with an expression of disbelief.

But she was gone.

Suddenly, Indiana Jones had never felt so alone in his life..