by Jaxon Reed
They both turned to Schmidt and Rick said, “Okay. Show us what the Ahnenerbe has discovered.”
Schmidt motioned for them to follow. In his excitement, he reverted to German and said, “Mitkommen!”
He led the way deeper into the warehouse, past giant electric generators, Tesla coils and open breadboards full of wires and tubes. He headed toward an office door, walled off by frosted glass.
“My assistant, Doktor Klaupf, will want to meet you.”
He seemed very excited.
He held open the office door and let Pierre, Nancy and Rick walk in first.
An older woman with a pageboy haircut and pop bottle glasses looked up from a desk, her eyes magnified by the spectacles’ lenses.
“Doktor Klaupf, may I introduced you to Rick Strickland and Nancy Chance.”
Pierre glared at him for being overlooked, but said nothing. Pierre knew that the couple were more important, in many ways, than he was right now.
Klaupf answered smoothly in English.
“How do we know, Herr Schmidt, that these two are really . . . ?”
She trailed off, leaving the question unfinished while staring at them both.
Finally, she nodded and said, “Yah. They look identical as the ones on the Fernsehen.”
Nancy raised a questioning eyebrow at Rick.
He said, “Television. I guess they have it by now. What year is it? We were working on prototypes before the war back in New York.”
“Ah, yes,” Schmidt said. “We must show you our Fernsehen. It is crucial to our whole operation. Come along and see.”
He grew quite excited and rushed back to the door, making beckoning motions with his hand.
Everyone followed him out onto the dimly lit warehouse floor.
Two large metal rods in the center of the space had what appeared to be a television monitor nestled between them. Wires snaked from its back to a circuit board with additional vacuum tubes sticking out of it.
Schmidt began flipping toggle switches, making various tubes in the array light up. Klaupf moved to help him, and soon the air hummed with electricity.
“Our biggest problem is finding petrol for the generators,” Klaupf said to Nancy, with an apologetic smile. “Things keep getting worse as the war progresses. Supplies are hard to come by, right now.”
The older woman moved to a lightboard, this one covered in strange symbols.
She flipped several switches, and the symbols lit up as the lights began glowing behind them.
Nancy watched as each symbol illuminated the board, noting the different ones present: a five pointed star, a crescent moon, a star of David, an ankh.
Several additional symbols glowed on the board that the two Americans and the Frenchman could not identify. All lit up with a flip of their individual switches.
“And what are those for?” Nancy said, curiosity overwhelming her reticence.
“This,” Schmidt said proudly, with a wave of his arms, “is where magic meets technology!”
The attention of the other three returned to the large cathode ray tube, now flickering gray and white.
“Wait! We need audio!” Klaupf said, flipping yet one more switch for a nearby speaker. It was shielded, and looked like it had been scavenged from an old radio set.
The speaker began softly hissing, its static adding to the hum of the tubes.
“Da ist es,” Klaupf muttered before staring intently at the screen again.
“It’s a white noise machine,” Nancy said softly. “Primitive. But, that’s what it is.”
Rick said, “What’s that? Never heard of it.”
“Jason explained it to me one time. On O-Earth, a white noise machine was a way for those wishing to communicate with demons to physically hear things in the spirit world. For some reason, demons were more willing or able to provide audible messages via a device configured to not receive normal electronic transmissions. It was left open, so to speak, so any demon present could use it.”
Rick scratched his head and said, “But . . . there are no demons in the alternates. They were all defeated on O-Earth. So, what’s the point of having a device like this out here?”
Schmidt, who had been following their conversation with great interest smiled broadly.
He said, “Wait and see! Any minute we should be receiving a transmission!”
Everyone refocused on the CRT’s screen. Sure enough, the random dots and streaks soon began to coalesce into the image of a woman’s face.
Her eyes were closed, and it looked as if she were reclining with her head surrounded by liquid. She frowned, in worry or concern.
Nancy said, “It’s Tiff!”
They watched as Tiff’s face grew sharper and more distinct. She began whispering, a slight susurrus coming through the speaker.
Klaupf hurried over to the electronics breadboard and adjusted a rheostat, making the speaker much louder.
Tiff said, “Darius . . . Darius . . . where are you? Come find me, Darius . . . find me . . .”
5
“The anomalies consistently occur in the same general area, in France. South and west of Paris. Something appears that was not there, then disappears, only to show up again later.”
Cait pointed to a map of Europe, now floating above her terminal. The Walker, Niko, Toya and Booker stared at it.
Booker said, “I think we dropped a sensor off in France, or what was to become France, in at least one of those alternates.”
“There is a strong alignment between those six alternates. They include the ones in which Jason and Rick Strickland found yourselves.”
“And he,” Jason said, “Is still on that one with Nancy, is he not?”
“That is correct.”
Booker said, “What does ‘alignment’ mean?”
“Porting between these realities is easier,” Jason said. “Because they’re closer, so to speak.”
“So, which one is she on?” Niko said.
Everyone returned their attention to Cait, who remained staring at the holographic output.
Cait said, “Of that, I am uncertain. But, it appears Rick and Nancy have discovered something of importance.”
She pointed to the hologram, and it turned into a window on their world, showing the two hunters inside a wartime warehouse.
-+-
Rick reached out and grabbed Schmidt by the lapel, dragging him forward.
“Where is she?”
“That I do not know, Herr Strickland.”
Rick let the anger seep out of his system, and he regained control. He let go of Schmidt.
He said, “You’ve got to know something.”
“We have learned a great deal from Ms. Valor,” Klaupf replied, tilting her head to see Rick better from her location closer to the screen.
She said, “We have confirmed your names. She has called for you both. We have a list of other names, such as Jason, Toya, and Kate.”
She pointed to a chalkboard in one corner that Rick had not seen earlier in the dim light. On it, all of their names were written. Cait’s was misspelled, but it was an understandable error since the computer’s name was really an acronym.
Rick noticed his name and Nancy’s were circled several times.
“We recognized yours in the intelligence reports from our London embassy,” Schmidt said, sounding apologetic.
“You’ve got to have some idea where she is,” Nancy said. “I mean, this is designed to pick up spiritual signals, right? So, it’s picking her up from somewhere.”
Schmidt said, “Are you familiar with the Carnac Alignments, Frau Chance?”
Pierre said, “Oui,” with a knowing smile.
The Frenchman turned to Nancy and said, “J'aurais dû savoir. I should have known.”
Nancy looked confused.
She said, “The what? No, I’ve never heard of them.”
“You know Stonehenge?” Pierre said.
She nodded.
He lifted his nose and smi
led. “So much better. And bigger. C’est plus grand.”
“Bigger than Stonehenge?” Nancy said, blinking.
“The Carnac Alignments are a series of 2,800 stones, in varying sizes, lined up along four kilometers,” Schmidt said.
“Yah, it is much more than Stonehenge’s circle,” Klaupf interjected.
Schmidt continued. He said, “Nearby, at the far extremity yet still connected to the Carnac Alignments, is a broken monolith we believe to be the source of this broadcast. It is called Le Grand Menhir Brisé.”
Pierre nodded again, obviously familiar with the reference.
Nancy furrowed her eyebrows.
She glanced at Rick and said, “If these things are bigger than Stonehenge, why have we never heard of them?”
“Pah!” Pierre said, following the gist of her question.
He muttered something under his breath, in French, about Texans suffering from superiority complexes and knowing so little about other cultures and the rest of the world.
“A better thing to ask is,” Rick said, rubbing the back of his head, “are these monoliths common throughout the alternates? I think it’s time to talk to Cait. And Jason, if he’s available.”
Nancy nodded in agreement.
She said, “We could use a break. Cait, open a door and bring us home.”
A vertical blue-green slit of light appeared in the air, brightening the warehouse gloom for a brief moment.
Klaupf jumped back in surprise. Schmidt stared at it in wonder.
Pierre, who had seen the doorway before, yawned nonchalantly as if this were a common occurrence.
Nancy walked into the Wildflower Room while sunlight streamed into the warehouse.
Rick turned to follow. He stopped and pointed a finger at Schmidt and Klaupf.
He said, “You take good care of our Frenchie while we’re gone. Nothing had better happen to him.”
Schmidt and Klaupf both nodded, with apprehensive expressions on their faces.
When the door winked out behind him and the three were left alone, Klaupf turned wide-eyed to Schdmidt.
She said, “I would surely like to go through one of those doors.”
Schmidt nodded and said, “Kate must be the boss of the whole group. She is the one they consult.”
They both turned and looked at Pierre, who was not following the conversation. Schmidt repeated his assertion in broken French.
Pierre said, “Non.”
Cait, he explained, was like their secretary. Jason was the real boss.
Schmidt and Klaupf discussed this tidbit at length. She dragged out another chalkboard and began making a new flowchart, trying to sketch out a hierarchical structure. She put Jason’s name on top, followed by Rick, Nancy and Tiff on the next line. She paused, trying to figure out where “Kate” would fit.
Pierre quickly grew bored and left them, looking for a place to sleep.
-+-
Back in the Wildflower Room, Rick and Nancy walked down the path holding hands. The flowers were now in full bloom, the place restored to its former glory.
Rick said, “Daisies, huh? I thought it mattered what type of flower was here in relation to the group of alternates we were in.”
Nancy shrugged. She said, “I think daisies are the default. It’ll probably change later. Rick, I’m worried those Nazis know too much.”
He said, “I was thinking the same thing. Cait’s going to have to wipe a lot of memories when this is over.”
“Either that, or we get to kill some more Nazis.”
“I dunno. Those two paranormal researchers seem like decent sorts.”
“Rick, they’re Nazis! They’re doing all that research for the advancement of the Third Reich! We can’t let that knowledge stay out there, even after the Germans lose World War Two.”
“I’m kidding. Yeah, we’ll kill them or wipe their memories. It probably depends on what they do . . .”
They crested the rise, walked down the other side and went through the rowan door.
Everyone waited for them, gathered around Cait’s terminal.
Nancy said, “Oh, hi. Were you all watching us just now?”
Niko and Jason nodded. Toya smiled, while Darius stared back unblinking.
Rick said, “So what’s up with this French Stonehenge? Is that a thing? I mean, is it a common thing and did it exist on O-Earth, too?”
“It is indeed common,” Cait said. “Early stone monoliths are found on most alternates because they were erected before chances for much deviation occurred. Unfortunately, since they are usually in the same locations, set in similar patterns, they prove ideal locations for the fae to travel between alternates.”
“Sort of like the Wildflower Room works for us,” Nancy said, smiling at Rick.
Cait said. “Precisely. In France, the largest and most extensive geometric designs involving monoliths were created on nearly every alternate. The obelisk known as Le Grand Menhir Brisé , or ‘The Large Broken Menhir,’ typically does ends up in pieces across the alternates.”
“What’s a menhir, anyway?” Nancy said.
“A menhir is a prehistoric obelisk. In this case, it is a giant stone placed upright and in alignment with others nearby on the coast of France. Nobody really knows how it gets broken each time, nor have I investigated the question since it is not relevant to our task.”
“The . . . spiritual broadcasts, I guess you’d say,” Nancy said, “originated from there on that last alternate.”
Cait said, “Yes. But, Tiff is not there. I have checked.”
Everyone stared at her, then at each other.
Jason said, “Well, obviously something is there, if the paranormal researchers are picking up a transmission.”
“Could be a trap of some sort,” Toya said.
Darius said, “It is a trap. For Tiff.”
“It’s a trap we can’t really see,” Niko pointed out. “However that works.”
Cait said, “I will take more measurements on multiple alternates, in and around Le Grand Menhir Brisé.”
She returned her attention to the terminal.
Following some discussion and catching-up, the group disbursed.
“Let me know when you find something, Cait,” Jason said.
The computer nodded as he left to go to his quarters.
Cait adjusted numbers floating in the air, and took observational snapshots over multiple alternates at different points in their timelines, collecting data.
An hour passed.
At last, Cait raised her head from the terminal.
She reached out to everyone in Headquarters, over their neural interfaces.
“I have made a deduction that resolves part of our problem.”
The group reassembled in the lobby within minutes.
Cait fingered a virtual key, making her holographic display expand to the size of a movie screen.
A representation of the timelines for six alternates showed up as a line graph on the screen.
Cait said, “The same abnormal reading occurs in the same spot at different points throughout the timelines of these six alternates, including the ones Rick Strickland, Nancy Chance and Darius Booker visited recently.
“The lines are labeled 4102a, b, and c and 4103a, b, and c. The readings occur in all six. They appear for only a short period of time, afew minutes at most, a few seconds at least and never for very long.
“There is a clear pattern. I have stopped observing so that we may have a window in which to send a team to intervene. As you know, once a point in an alternate’s timeline has been observed, there is no changing it. You have not appeared in any of the points I examined. Therefore, I have left several spots on the pattern unobserved so that you may engage freely.”
“We need a team?” Booker said. “Let’s go. I’ll grab some weapons.”
Jason said, “So, what is going on, Cait? What have they done with Tiff?”
Cait said, “As I earlier suspected might be a possibility,
the fae are porting her between alternates. She remains in a physical location, but spends most of her time in transit between worlds, making it difficult to retrieve her.
“While she is in transit, she is unreachable. She is only in a physical location for a few moments on one of the alternates. That physical location is Le Grand Menhir Brisé. The remainder of her time is spent in a spiritual nether region between alternates.”
Several eyebrows shot up at this statement.
“And, what are the readings, exactly?” Nancy asked. “What are you seeing on all six alternates?”
“What I see, every few years across the timelines, is Tiff’s vital signs. They are heavily shielded. I suspect she is trapped in a container of some kind. But she is there, briefly, before being ported to another reality.”
Everyone refocused on the graphic above the desk, showing the timeline and their corresponding points.
Cait said, “She is due to show up on the alternate Nancy and Rick just left. I suggest a team returns there as quickly as possible.”
Booker turned back to the weapons rack and pulled down several more items.
The others moved to join him.
6
Pierre woke up late the following morning. He stretched to ease the kinks out of his back and legs.
Gauging by his internal clock, he decided it must be close to noon. He rubbed his eyes and wandered around the back of the warehouse looking for something to eat and a loo.
He found the toilet first. Next he discovered Klaupf, snoring lightly in the back office, and Schmidt slumped over the controls of the white noise machine in the middle of the warehouse.
The CRT still sputtered with life, its speaker hissing, but the ghostly mademoiselle was no longer speaking.
Pierre poked around in some cabinets and finally uncovered a stash of Wehrmacht iron rations. He opened a tin of meat and wolfed it down. He also found half a loaf of bread. He cut off the mold on the crust and ate it, too.
Then he wished for coffee. Somehow, Nancy and Rick had kept their group well supplied with genuine coffee, although Pierre never saw where it came from. More of their magic, he supposed.