by Simon Hawke
Andre took a gamble. She clocked blind, trying to estimate relative distance coordinates for the heights behind the camp. She thought she knew the weapon being used, or its alternate universe equivalent—a pop mortar, a small tubelike weapon fired from the shoulder with scope sights attached on a slender, collapsible stalk. It would be equipped with night sights, and it fired tiny, ball-shaped missiles about the size of walnuts. Its operation was completely silent except for an almost imperceptible popping sound made by the launching of the missiles.
The plan was clear now. They had never intended to infiltrate assassins to kill Churchill. Instead they had taken up position on the heights in order to drop well-placed mortar fire into the camp, taking out the big guns and cutting down on the British advantage, allowing the Ghazis to break through. A few more shots and they would be zeroed in, able to drop missiles directly into the trenches.
Andre tried to estimate trajectory, to think as they had thought, to find the most logical place to set up their point of fire. They needed to be well away from the attacking Ghazis, and the best vantage point for the battle were the heights directly behind the encampment, on the side opposite the Bedmanai Pass. She still had to find them quickly, but it left a great deal of territory to search. Unless she was very lucky, the odds of finding them were very small. And that meant Churchill’s death—and Finn’s.
Chapter 12
Phoenix heard the screams coming from the top of the tower in Drakov’s residence. Sayyid Akbar was home again. He felt the molecular disruptor beneath his robe. It gave him a profound feeling of security. He was sure the opposition wouldn’t have such weapons. There were only a few in existence, all prototypes made by Darkness. The Temporal Army could not figure out a way to duplicate them. The principles of the weapon’s operation had been explained to them in detail, but they just couldn’t make one. He could not imagine a duplicate Dr. Darkness in the alternate universe. The thought of two of them was unnerving.
Most of the village was empty now, save for the women and children. The men had all gone to take up their positions in the Khyber Pass, preparing for the ambush of the Tirah Expeditionary Force. Phoenix had remained behind, watching Drakov’s residence. He had seen Sadullah going in and knew the attack would not begin without him. He wondered what Drakov was doing to him to instill the terror necessary for absolute obedience.
“Is he inside?”
Phoenix jumped about a foot. The voice had come from about five inches away. He turned to see Darkness standing at his elbow.
“Jesus, Doc, I wish you wouldn’t do that. I swear, you’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”
“Don’t concern yourself,” said Darkness. “I know CPR. You haven’t answered my question.”
“Yeah, he’s in there, all right. Putting the fear of God into old Sadullah. They’re ready to move. Where’s the expeditionary force?”
“Approaching the pass,” said Darkness. “I’ve found the confluence point, thanks to the adjustment team.”
“They’re okay?”
‘They won’t be if I don’t get back to help them,” Darkness said. “Forrester is ready to move with the First Division on my signal, which I’ll give him the moment the soldiers from the alternate timeline start coming through the confluence. After that both they and you are on your own. I must get to the adjustment team and help them stop the second assault upon the timestream.”
“The second assault?”
“Never mind. It would take too long to explain. We’ve reached the crisis point. Make your move.”
Phoenix was about to reply, but Darkness was already gone. He shook his head, wondering what it must be like to live that way, at light speed. One of these days, thought Phoenix, he’ll translate and his tachyons will take off in sixty zillion directions at the same time, and then where will he be? Probably everywhere.
He pulled the disruptor out from beneath his robe and approached the house.
There was only one way to search for the mortar team and it was risky. She had to change her transition coordinates rapidly, clocking blind from place to place atop the heights overlooking the camp. The task seemed hopeless. There were hundreds of places for them to hide and she had to find them quickly, before their mortar fire turned the tide of the battle. She was desperate. It had all come down to her, and she could not afford to be cautious.
She initiated a warp fugue sequence, one that would allow her to teleport all over the vicinity with lightning speed, but she was afraid it wouldn’t be enough. Finn knew what the odds were, yet he had stayed behind to protect Churchill with his life. She couldn’t let him down. She couldn’t lose him too. If she was wrong, if she hadn’t properly estimated their strategy and they were not in the area she was searching, then it was all over.
She effected over thirty transitions with incredible speed, but they had already found their range and their fire was now failing into the camp with telling effect. The Ghazis, doubtless believing this was the divine intervention they were promised, renewed their assaults with fanatical determination. She kept estimating possible lines of fire and clocking to those points, all without result. Suddenly they were right in front of her, no more than five feet away.
She reacted quickly, firing from the hip, and the man with the pop mortar became enveloped in the blue mist of the disruptor’s neutron beam. She fired again and the second man fell as he was bringing his laser to bear on her, then a jarring impact on her back sent her tumbling to the ground. She dropped the disruptor and wrestled with the man who had tackled her. She jerked aside and the knife scraped along her skull, opening a deep gash in the left side of her head. She trapped the knife hand and rolled on it, dislodging her antagonist and reversing their positions. She brought her right hand down hard, fore-knuckle extended, into her opponent’s throat, crushing his larynx, then struck again twice more and he lay still. Breathing heavily, she slowly got to her feet and came face to face with Priest, standing about ten feet away, aiming his laser at her.
She froze. Both of them stood there atop a cliff overlooking a raging battle, and neither moved. The laser was leveled directly at her chest, but, Priest hesitated. Then he slowly lowered the weapon. She stared at him with disbelief.
He shut his eyes briefly. “Andre, forgive me.”
The laser started to come up again, and then it fell from his hands as his entire body jerked forward. The point of a bayonet came through his chest, then withdrew again. He collapsed onto the ground. Finn Delaney stood behind him, blood pouring from the wound in his shoulder and one in his arm. He held a Lee-Metford rifle in his hands, its bayonet wet with blood.
“I saw the beam flashes—” he began, then sank down to his knees, holding onto the rifle for support. She was at his side in an instant.
“How’s Churchill?”
“He’ll be all right now,” said Finn, breathing heavily. “The Ghazis broke through to the camp and it was touch and go for a while, but they beat back the assault. I’m beginning to think that Blood’s men could subdue the entire frontier all by themselves.” He glanced down at the corpse. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have to see his face.”
“I see I wasn’t needed,” Darkness said.
They looked up to find him standing in front of them. He wasn’t entirely substantial. The stars in the night sky could be seen through his body and he seemed to shimmer in the dark. He looked exhausted.
“You two look a mess,” he said.
“How did you find us?” Andre said.
“I had to search the entire surrounding area at light speed,” Darkness said. “I was still too late, wasn’t I? I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake, not a commando. Remind me to give you both symbiotracers so I won’t have to search all over creation every time the two of you get into a jam. I need to go home and rest.”
“What’s happening in the pass?” said Finn.
“I’ve done all I can. The rest is up to Forrester
and Phoenix.”
“Phoenix?” said Andre. “Who’s Phoenix?”
But Darkness was already gone.
The pipes of the Gordon Highlanders could be heard skirling in the distance as the Tirah Expeditionary Force came through the Khyber Pass. Learoyd, Ortheris, and Mulvaney stood upon the parapet of their cell, looking out into the distance, where they could see the well-formed lines of the British troops advancing.
“They’re marching right into a trap,” Learoyd said, “and we’re helpless to do anything to warn them!”
“Bloody Ghazis mean for us to see ‘em cut to ribbons, an’ then they’ll come back an’ take care of us,” said Ortheris.
Behind them they heard the bolt to the cell door being drawn back.
“Right,” said Mulvaney. “It’s all or nothin’, lads. Let’s show these ‘eathens what fightin’ men are made of!”
They ran down to the door and as it opened, grabbed the tribesman who came through, and twisted the rifle out of his hands.
“No, Sahib! No!”
“Christ!” said Mulvaney. “It’s Din!”
“Good ol’ Din,” said Ortheris. “Look ‘ere, he’s done a couple of ‘em what for!”
Two dead tribesmen lay in the corridor outside. Gunga Din opened his robe and produced several knives and pistols, then took the rifles away from the two dead tribesmen.
“You use these, yes?” he said. “We fight well, save soldiers!”
“Bless your ‘eart, Din,” said Mulvaney. “We’ll fight ‘em, all right.”
“We’ll never get to them in time,” Learoyd said. “They’ll spring the trap and our lads will be caught in a crossfire before we can ever break free of this blasted temple!”
Din ran up the steps to the parapet and looked down. He could see the troops below, marching in formation, and above them in the rocks on both sides of the pass, white robed Ghazis waiting for the signal to spring their trap. He reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out his battered bugle. He raised it to his lips and sounded Retreat.
The shrill notes of the bugle call echoed in the pass, and the bagpipes stopped their playing. Din inhaled deeply and blew again.
The door to the cell burst open and armed tribesmen burst through. Mulvaney shot one down, then clubbed another with his rifle. Learoyd crossed knives with one; the two swordlike blades filled the cell with a clanging counterpoint to the bugle call. Ortheris brought two tribesmen down with his pistol, but still more came running into the cell.
“Blow, Din!” yelled Learoyd. “Blow for all you’re worth, soldier!”
Din heard Learoyd call him soldier and his face broke into a wide grin. He raised the bugle to his lips once more and played with all his heart. Then the first bullet took him in the back. Several of the tribesmen who had broken into the cell had raised their rifles and fired at him again and again. Learoyd cut one down, Ortheris shot another, but Din took at least five more bullets before Mulvaney threw himself bodily against the other riflemen and forced the door shut, leaning against it and holding it closed with all his might. Ortheris joined him to lend his weight to the door.
Gunga Din sounded three more pathetic, broken notes then fell forward, draped over the wall of the parapet. Learoyd reached him just in time to save him from going over. He pulled him back and laid him gently on the floor. Din’s back and chest were a bloody ruin. Blood frothed his lips. He stared up at Learoyd and smiled.
“Din do well, Sahib?”
The troops below had dispersed and taken cover as the Ghazis started firing indiscriminately. It would be a long and drawn-out battle, but their ambush had failed. Learoyd looked down at Gunga Din, his lips drawn tight.
“You did well, soldier. You did damn bloody well.”
He saluted him.
Din coughed twice and attempted to raise his own hand to return the salute, but it fell back lifelessly onto the floor.
“You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din,” Learoyd said softly. He reached forward and closed the Hindu’s sightless eyes.
There was a knock at the cell door. Mulvaney and Ortheris, leaning all their combined weight against it, stared at each other.
“Who’s there?” said Ortheris.
“What do you mean, who’s there?” Mulvaney said. “Who in bloody ‘Ell d’you think is there, you stupid sod?”
“You just can’t help some people,” Finn’s voice came from the other side of the door. “You get ‘em out of trouble, and like idiots they go barging right back in.”
“Blimey!” said Mulvaney. They opened the door and saw Finn and Andre standing amidst a pile of Ghazi corpses.
“You boys ready to leave now?” said Finn. “Or were you planning on setting up housekeeping?”
“You’re wounded, sir,” said Ortheris. “And you, miss Cross!’
“It isn’t serious,” said Andre. “Come on, we’d better get you out of here.”
“Holy jumping Christ!” Learoyd shouted from the parapet. “Take a look at this!”
Below and to their left, around the bend of the pass, a wild battle was raging between the Ghazis and the British troops. Below and to their right, armed men clad in field-gray uniforms began appearing as if from out of nowhere, materializing out of thin air. The moment they started coming through, Forrester’s division, hidden in the rocks above, opened fire. The pass below them became a deadly latticework of laser beams.
“I must be dreamin’,” said Mulvaney, looking down. “What in God’s name is goin’ on down there?”
Ortheris was speechless. He could only stare, slack-jawed, at a sight he couldn’t comprehend. The troops from the alternate timeline didn’t stand a chance. Forrester had employed the same tactics against them that the Ghazis had hoped to use against the British troops, and the gray-uniformed soldiers could only ineffectually return the fire sporadically as they came through and died. Then, suddenly, the men stopped coming through.
Stability had been restored to the scenario and the rippling effect moved on. The confluence point shifted and those caught coming through at that precise instant screamed as they were caught between the timelines, materializing momentarily only to disappear again, trapped forever in the limbo of non-specific time known as the dead zone. It hadn’t lasted more than several minutes. Forrester’s men ceased fire while just out of sight, around the bend in the pass, the echoing thunder of rifle shots continued as the British engaged the Ghazis.
“What did we just see, lads?” said Learoyd. “What in the name of heaven were all those lights? Who were those men?”
“What men?” said Finn.
“What lights?” said Andre.
Learoyd turned to look at them, dumbfounded. “But you were standin’ right here! Surely you saw them?”
“Saw who?” said Finn. “Learoyd, what are you talking about? Are you all right?”
“It must have been the strain,” said Andre.
“Strain!” said Learoyd. “Mulvaney, you tell them! You saw it!”
Mulvaney looked from Learoyd to Finn and Andre. “Saw what, Chris?”
“Those lights! Those men!”
Mulvaney licked his lips. “I didn’t see no lights, mate.”
“You lying … Stanley! You saw it, didn’t you? You must have seen it!”
Ortheris looked away guiltily.
“Come on, Chris,” said Andre, holding out her hand to him. “It’ll be all right. It’s over now.”
Learoyd looked from Mulvaney to Ortheris to Finn and Andre, then drew himself up. “Right. Fine. It was all a bloody hallucination then, was it? A damned mirage? We didn’t see a bloomin’ thing, right? Right Fine. Splendid. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Phoenix didn’t waste any time. He killed the guards in front of Drakov’s headquarters and moved fast, running across the courtyard and into the main house. He was dressed like a Ghazi, so the women in the main chamber paid him no mind as he headed for the upstairs section. He met Sadullah coming down the stairs, but the mul
lah took no notice of him. His face was as white as his hair as he hurried to the scene of battle.
Phoenix took the stairs two at a time. He peered cautiously around the corner, looking into the main room on the second floor. There was nothing there except for the opulent furnishings, the tapestries and the thick rugs and the cushions. He glanced at the balcony facing out over the pass and saw Drakov standing there, his back to him. He took aim with his disruptor and fired.
The figure on the balcony became briefly enveloped in blue mist and then was gone. Phoenix walked into the room and suddenly felt powerful arms around him. The disruptor was twisted from his grasp and he was thrown to the floor. Drakov stood behind him, wearing the clothes of one of his guards.
“I knew you’d be back for me, Martingale,” he said. “Or is that really your name? You were with them all along, weren’t you? Right from the beginning.”
“It’s over, Nikolai,” said Phoenix. “Your people have lost.”
“I expected as much when I didn’t find any of them at the temple,” Drakov said. “And when Priest did not contact me, I guessed that you had somehow foiled his attempt on Churchill’s life, as well. And that means the entire plan’s collapsed. No point in going on. They underestimated you, but they won’t do so again. It isn’t over. The war has only just begun.”
“What’s in it for you, Nikolai? They’re not your people. You belong in this timeline.”
Drakov shook his head. “I do not belong anywhere,” he said. “I must make my own world and find a place in it. And through this new conflict, I shall succeed. You are a survivor, Martingale, but then, so am I. We could have accomplished unimaginable things together, but you chose to serve the enemy instead. So be it. We shall see which of us survives in the end. Meanwhile the game continues.”