Gateway Through Time

by David Kernot

  He checked his AI-enabled prosthetic arm and read the regional data that scrolled. This ancient, dust-covered, silk road was as old as civilization itself. It had stood the test of time. A link between East and West. Its trail had been well travelled and stony paths had worn thin by opium and spice traders, merchants and soldiers alike since before Alexander came to conquer an unconquerable land in the southern steppes of Asia, in a land once called Afghanistan. A land where a proud and resilient tribe refused to let go. Kandahar survived, it had grown, prospered as armies came and went, until they discovered alluvial gold in the rich perennial rivers. Until they discovered the mother lode that would make them rich beyond their wildest dreams. Neighbouring countries to the west and south made a claim on what they believed was their ancient right to rule. But if they knew the truth, it was the people and lands of Kandahar that had ruled those other lands. Cthulhu rule started like most of the continent five years ago. Civilisation's majority waited for the return of the Old Ones and the end of humanities rule of the known world.

  Emerson paused at the contradiction. Cthulhu. Old Ones meant Shoggoths. That meant disaster.

  It also meant he wasn't in his reality. It was another place. A multiverse, perhaps? Another connected and alternate world. Could Amye be alive here? Imagine it. He could turn up at her door and they could continue where they had left off before his pride had sent him around the globe fighting other people's wars.

  He sighed. He didn't need to watch Zac, but waited for the man to release the miniaturised drone, no larger than Emerson's palm. The dragonfly shaped mechanical device flew over to safe ground and hovered.

  "Monitor the comms traffic," said Emerson to Smitt.

  "Roger that," replied Smitt.

  A shot rang out and smacked into the dirt nearby. Dust stirred into the air. Emerson threw himself onto the road flat and stayed perfectly still. He set the helmet to visual and scanned. Seconds later another shot rang out.

  "Dragonfly down," said Smitt.

  Emerson nodded and waited for the display to light up.

  Everything told him to crawl back the way they came, out of range and away from the shooter, but somehow he knew that was what they had expected to do, and therefore they shouldn't.

  Being held up by a single man and judging by the timing between the shots, the range and outdated 303 round. A single bolt action relic, an ancient soviet weapon barely able to work, shouldn't hold them up. And yet it did.

  The heads-up-display gave the point of origin based on the trajectory calcs. "Shooter is 300 meters to our right, up on the high ground," he said into the mic. "Zac, hear me?"

  "Roger that."

  "Then spin around and tell why I think he has us boxed in. I'm guessing there's something behind us."

  "Wilco."

  "Goddammit!"

  "Zac?"

  "There's a wall of IR across the road, and they've enabled another IED."

  Emerson nodded, somehow they must have triggered this thing and now they were trapped from all sides. The rounds were most likely meant to spook them into moving, and TTPs meant that he and the team should have retreated exactly the way they came, walking backwards on their own footsteps.

  "Smitt, can you get a line on the guy?"

  "Send me the co-ords."

  Emerson moved the panel's mouse with his eye pointer and clicked a few keys to send the point of origin.

  Crack!

  Tracer rounds formed a line from Smitt's machine gun and bolts.

  "Delivering magnesium!"

  Smitt aimed high, switched to parachute rounds, and the shells exploded and lit the area above the location.

  Ribbons of molten hot magnesium sizzled and fell like hot rain down onto the area.

  Emerson smiled, if the sniper had any sense he would have legged it on the first round, but these were a stubborn enemy, and death to some was a greater glory than running away to fight another day.

  He tapped his mic. "How many drones have you got left, Smitt?"

  "Two."

  "Zac?"

  "I'm out."

  "Roger, send one up further out and get an eye on what's up there. Use the other to disable the IED to our left."

  "Roger," replied Smitt.

  "Zac can you slave Smitt's dragonfly?"

  "You betcha, Captain."

  Captain? Emerson smiled. A promotion, then. "Just wait until he's sure there are no more threats up there, we can't afford to lose another fly."

  "Say the word."

  Emerson twisted left and noticed the poppy field. They were down on ammo, and out of dragonflies. Again, that prickle out in his hippocampus pulled at him, warning him to avoid the poppy field. He couldn't as much as he'd want to, but he'd be cautious as hell. The Gandharans' protected their crops like they were more important than the gold. " Light up the sniper and take him out. Maximum firepower. Zac, get the fly to disable the IED trigger and let's get the hell out!"

  "Roger. Roger." The radio blipped twice, and then the sky lit up, and the area screamed with gunfire. Emerson aimed his laser sights out to the poppy field, scanning left and right, still sensing danger. A huge object launched. Black as midnight. With a name of death, Seven foot wings span tapered at each end. An Elder thing and headed their way. Emerson tracked it.

  "Shoot it," said a woman.

  Emerson glanced up and frowned. "Denna?"

  "Just do it, Emerson. Now. We can talk later."

  "Where are you?"

  "Do it," she screamed.

  Emerson fired his weapon. Screams filled his frontal lobe. Maybe his voice? Maybe it was all in his head. He continued to track the creature as it flew, finger pulled hard on the trigger. It fell on the IED trigger before Zac could disable it with the fly. "Take cover," he screamed into the mic and lay spread-eagle, tasting generations of the Khandarian dust. Hot shrapnel whipped past his face, and he shuddered.

  He looked up. A woman's image appeared, shimmering, not real. "Denna?" How was it possible?

  "Emerson, I'm in the cavern. Trapped. But close. Use fire to help me return."

  "Fire?"

  Her image faded. Was any of that real?

  Then the world spun, and he was somewhere else…

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter V

  Camp Baker, Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan

  Sergeant Emerson Ash navigated the narrow path in the dark by memory to the Australian military base's welfare hut, pleased to have reenlisted in the forces. The cyber survey had been fun. It reminded him of the comradery and affinity he had with the military. As a public servant, it didn't cut it. The dark helped to hide his inner distress over having experienced the life he might have had with Amye and then to have it all ripped from him. His right hand moved instinctively to his prosthetic artificial arm. It had recently been augmented, and in the hot dry low forty degree Celsius temps, he still couldn't fathom how his cyber arm had become skin like. He rolled up his sleeves, unconcerned that he'd exposed the fluid screen embedded in the arm. Everyone else had tattoos, he'll he could have this better version arm. He flexed it, still amazed with the new augmented functions.

  He slowed as the pathway lit from the rec room light and decided a hot cup of black tea would settle his nerves. He opened the door to a packed room and paused.

  "Bingo!" cried a youthful woman.

  Bingo, out here? He smiled.

  You could cut the air with a knife. People stared down at their laps.

  "Twenty-three," said a man.

  "Bingo..."

  Emerson jumped as he recognized Amye's voice. Her image appeared in his arm display. Emerson frowned.

  She stared at him in a private's uniform. "Sounds like something your old nan would play back at Stirling North, Em."

  He stared at her. Here she seemed so animated. Was it some trigger from his cyber link from the room, perhaps?

  She stepped closer on the screen. "Aren't you going to speak to me?"

  Emerson lifted his arm closer to his
face and stared at her. He watched her smile back at him and his heart banged against his chest, repeatedly like cannon fire.

  "You can hear me?"

  "Remember, I joined the army. I followed you. But I've been here since ... You know, since I've been hiding from them."

  "Them?"

  "The monsters." She turned away from him briefly before her face floated back into focus on his arm screen. "I've got to go... Got to hide somewhere else. You need to find us another multiverse."

  Then she had gone, and the screen faded to black. He smashed his fist against his arm. "Amye, don't go!"

  But it did no good. What had she meant? What monsters?

  Now he knew he was crazy. The universe shifted again to taunt him once again.

  ◆◆◆

  Chapter VI

  Centurion Gods of War

  When the rush of noise subsided, Andrew Stone opened his eyes and studied the scenery. Steamy moisture curled off of the thick glossy leaves. A jungle then, but not Thailand's. Emerson stood nearby with the same weird expression written over his face. "You're back. Something weird happen to you too?"

  "The universe just shifted for a time."

  Andrew grinned. Emerson had experienced the same thing.

  He studied the scenery. How had they gotten outside so fast? The tropical landscape, the sweltering heat, was all the same but different. The Geiger-counter earpiece was screaming Einsteinium 263.

  "Where are we?" asked Emerson.

  "When are we is a better question? Which time period?"

  "Which Multiverse?"

  Andrew nodded. "I think the dirty bomb is close by."

  "We were in the Chiang Dao caves…"

  "I think we still are," said Andrew. "but we're also here."

  "I saw Amye." The man looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

  "I saw Denna," he said. Denna had been there for a moment.

  "Me too."

  Then it meant something. "She said she was close and to use fire to help her return."

  Emerson wiped his brow. "Hotter here than Chiang Dao. Denna told me to watch the cave serpent's hands. She said she was in its right hand."

  "The serpent being the image of her in the middle of the pond."

  "The one where Cthulhu snake creatures writhed over her?"

  "That's the one."

  "I thought I was going mad."

  Andrew smiled. Emerson wasn't alone.

  "Can hear that?" asked Emerson.

  Andrew nodded at the heavy metallic squeaking. Trees not far away were being mashed. "What is it?"

  Emerson patted his clothes and looked around. "They're tanks. Armoured vehicles. And my pistol and Steyr are missing."

  "Careful this time," said Andrew. "My DU weapon and pistol are also missing. We're unarmed."

  "Against a tank."

  "Might be one of ours?"

  Emerson nodded. "Let's go find out."

  They ran down the muddy tree infested tropical hill and stepped out onto a churned up track along a river. "Damn!" said Emerson.

  He didn't recognise the vehicle. "What are they?"

  "Centurions. Australian tanks. Well, they are British, but you know what this means, don't you?"

  Andrew shrugged.

  "We're in Vietnam. Back in nineteen sixty-eight."

  "Sixty-eight? How do you know this stuff?"

  "I had a brief posting to the Australian First Armoured Regiment. This is bad. I need a gun! Preferably a machine gun!" said Emerson.

  "It can't be that bad," said Andrew. "Come on." Andrew stepped out onto the muddy road that was barely a track between thick jungle trees.

  "No," said Emerson. "Come back. It's a death trap!"

  Andrew ignored him and a tank at the rear of the convoy stopped. A man appeared up top and pointed a pistol at him. "Don't shoot," he said and raised his arms.

  Emerson strode over and joined him, hands in the air.

  "We're civilian allies," said Andrew.

  "We're reporters," said Emerson. "Our vehicle hit a mine hole, and we drove off the road a little while back."

  "Lucky we came along then," said the American sergeant in a broad Texan drawl. "Where you boys from? Australia? I detect an accent."

  Emerson nodded. "But I've been working in Washington."

  "Ah, and you?"

  "Canada."

  "Canada? You're a long way from home."

  Andrew nodded. "Canadian's need to know the truth."

  "That they do my friend. I'm from Fort Bliss in Texas."

  The armoured vehicle looked like it had seen a lot of service. "What sort of tank is this?"

  "It's the M42 Duster," the US sergeant said proudly. "It's got a 40 mm Self-Propelled Anti-Aircraft Gun. We're here helping the Aussies. Convoy's front dozer got hit a few miles back. Lucky you guys stepped out when you did. I'll let the rear hatch down. You can climb in."

  Andrew looked up at the aircraft that flew in circles above them. "What's that?"

  "It's an observation aircraft from the 161st Reconnaissance Flight," said the sergeant.

  "Where are you headed?"

  "We got orders from Dunstan to head to Fire Support Base Coral."

  Emerson stepped forward. "You come out from Nui Dat?"

  The sergeant nodded. "You betcha! Spent the night at Long Binh." He stared at Andrew for a moment. "You look like you've struck a mine."

  Andrew touched his head. "Feels like it. Car accident. Had the windscreen explode over me."

  The man smiled. "Oh, that will do it. What's that thing?" The man pointed at him.

  "It's a Geiger-counter. We've been tasked to see if there are any local deposits."

  The man frowned. He leaned forward, studied them. "Local deposits? Interesting. You don't work for the newspaper."

  "No, sir. Not really. I'm Colonel Stone. This is Sergeant Ash. We work for a classified Task Force."

  "Undercover. Thought so. You looked too military. Too sharp. So where you headed?"

  Emerson said, "Tunnels."

  "Vietcong tunnels?"

  "Yes, sergeant."

  "Well, you're in luck. One driver reported falling into a tunnel up ahead. Nothing has come out of it."

  The Geiger-counter was still screaming in his ear. They had to be close. "That would be the one, then."

  ◆◆◆

  Emerson frowned. He rubbed the hot, sweaty space between his collar and his neck. How had they ended up here? All he wanted was to reunite with Amye. She was the love of his life. But if he was right, they were on their way to the Australian base just before a major TET offensive. This would be one of the bloodiest Australian battles in Vietnam. Where the Australian forces used the Centurion tank and showed its superiority in a non-conventional war. He struggled to push that idea out of his mind. Martial arts usually helped calm his mind, but right now trying reminded him of his artificial limb. It was like that sometimes.

  The M42 Duster made its way forward, and a loud thump slows the vehicle. Somebody yelled, "Contact front!" Machine gun fire struck up above. The back hatch lowered, and the hot musty air was laced with a metallic tinge of cordite.

  A soldier in olive green uniform held a rifle away from them. "We're taking fire. Grab a weapon and shoot to kill."

  Emerson glanced over to the weapons along the side of the vehicle. "I'll take the M60 machine gun. Easier on the arm." He slung some loops of ammunition over his shoulder and hefted the machine gun up horizontally. "I've only ever used one of these in a training session. Same as the SLR."

  Andrew Stone stared at the two rifles.

  In the corner next to an AK-47 was an Australian L1A1 Self-Loading rifle. "I'd go for the SLR. It's uses a 7.6mm round, and it's got a kick like a mule only deadlier." He grinned. "I fired one once. You don't want to get in the way. Range out to 800 meters, but here the round will get lost in the jungle."

  He waited while Andrew Stone grabbed the rifle and some spare magazine. "I miss my pistol." He slung the Geiger
-counter over his shoulder. "Come on. We need to make our way underground. We're right on the Einsteinium."

  "Roger that." Emerson nodded and stared at the black canopy of forest. So many atrocities committed here, too many honourable men had died. He wrapped the ammunition belt around his shoulder. "It's not our fight, but somehow I want to help these guys. They don't get the recognition they deserved for being here."

  "I'm in," said Stone.

  Emerson nodded. "Let's get this done then, without affecting on our primary mission."

  "You mean saving the Earth from an alien culture about to destroy it?"

  "Wouldn't happen," said Emerson.

  "Yes. It's akin to the Spanish Flu after the first world war."

  Emerson shrugged. "I'm a simple man. It's just me, the enemy, and a clean brass casing filled with explosives."

  "That will only stop a human, and I suspect these things have been around for centuries."

  Emerson raised his machine gun. "It's like this enemy. I'm ready to negotiate the best way I can."

  "Okay, let's do this…"

  "Yes…"

  Sporadic gunfire sounded close. A machine gun growled. "On my mark, we run toward your tunnel. We find the uranium, and we go home."

  "Well, I'm not so sure, but it could pan out that way, but either way, I'm with you, Emerson."

  They shook hands, faced the outside jungle, and ran into 1968.

  In front of them an Australian goes down. Emerson ran forward and fired a volley of rounds from the retrieves the M60. Another soldier joined them and hefted the wounded man over his shoulders and ran back behind the M42 Duster. The Texan sergeant fired into the thick jungle. He glanced over to them and pointed into the jungle. "Go that way."