Uchronie

by Richardson, Ian

  ‘You’ll cause a further inconsistency.’ snapped Doctor Mentor. ‘A paradox.’

  ‘Dr Mentor forgets that a paradox is not a physical obstacle to be overcome.’ said Commander DeBlanc, addressing everyone in the room loudly. ‘It is merely a sign that we are attempting something that is rather unfeasible.’

  ‘We all have an imperfect understanding of how time actually works.’ blustered Doctor Mentor.

  ‘Speak for yourself.’ snapped DeBlanc. ‘Your notions of causality may be based on the erroneous notion that time only moves in one direction, but, sometimes, effect precedes cause. Every choice we make, every action we take and every word we write creates an alternate universe with different rules.’

  ‘It’s the little things that have the potential to cause chaos.’ said Doctor Mentor. ‘Predicting the time stream is like predicting the weather. Tiny variations in temperature or wind direction will drastically alter the outcomes.’

  ‘Butterfly Effect, innit.’ said Wayne.

  ‘Yes.’ said DeBlanc. ‘But Nate may not be the butterfly of doom we first thought he was. When we tried to find out what caused the changes in the time stream we were originally led to his adventure aboard the Hindenburg.’

  ‘It’s nearly impossible to make long term predictions.’ said Doctor Mentor. ‘Long term weather forecasting is considered a joke… even by meteorologists.'

  ‘The beat of a butterfly’s wing could, theoretically, trigger tropical storms or blizzards.’ said DeBlanc. ’But it is equally likely to calm the weather. We need to remember that there are other options besides the apocalyptic Doomsday scenario. We need to put Nate back where we found him. Give me five minutes I’ll get it all sorted out.’

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Coincidentally, sitting in his jail cell in 1926, Nate heard almost exactly the same words from his tinny voiced visitor.

  ‘You - need - to - get - back - to - where - you - came - from.’ said the mechanical voice. ‘Meet - outside - in - five - minutes - and - I’ll - get - it - all - sorted.’

  ‘Who are you?’ I asked again.

  ‘Asim.’ said Asim, sliding a key through the tiny grill. ‘Take - this.’

  I didn’t know who Asim was but I didn’t need to be told what to do with the key.

  I unlocked my cell door, collected Dr Mentor’s hand and put it in my leather backpack. Then I slipped outside and found Asim crouched among the bushes beneath my cell window. Even in the gathering darkness I recognised him as one of Biffo’s robots.

  ‘Here -you - will - need - this - as - well.’ he said, handing me my Wave gun.

  ‘How did you find that?’ I gasped.

  ‘No - time - to - explain.’ said Asim, turning away. ‘Time - to - go.’

  ‘How do we get out of here?’ I asked.

  ‘You - go. I - will - not - be - coming - with - you.’ said Asim. ‘Battery - failing.’

  ‘But I can’t just leave you behind!’ I said.

  ‘Go.’ said Asim. ‘I - take - your - place. I - am - your - dummy.’

  Before I could stop him, or say another word, he left and took my place inside the cell.

  In the darkness I slid from tree to tree down to the lakeside until I was beside the short pier where Asim had moored Ginger’s triplane.

  There was a single guard sitting, half asleep, inside the boathouse.

  Crawling on all fours, I sneaked past him and untied the plane but the heavy rope slipped out of my hand and splashed into the water.

  The noise woke the guard; he saw me and immediately picked up his rifle.

  I ran and jumped from the end of the pier landing on the plane with a thud that took my breath away.

  As I pulled open the door I could see the soldier loading his rifle.

  But the engine started first time and, as a single bullet whizzed over my head, I taxied the plane out on to the dark lake.

  His single shot alerted the other soldiers on the lakeside and, amidst a hail of bullets; I revved the engine and sped across the water.

  Once I had taken off, I knew that I was safe.

  What I didn’t know was that the long range tank beneath me had been hit and was leaking fuel on to the red hot exhaust.

  Unaware of this danger I climbed steadily and headed out into the mists gathering over the Atlantic.

  Next Episode: All’s Well That Ends Well?

  All's Well that Ends... Well?

  In which the swirling, ever-changing, currents of the time streams carry Nate inexorably towards his final date with destiny and, probably, disaster.

  Now that the excitement of escaping from the prison in Bechtsgaden was over, my old, familiar, feeling of air sickness returned as the triplane took me high into the sky. The distant horizon was an impenetrable curtain of clouds which extended as far as my eye could see and, below me, the snowy summits of the alpine peaks rippled like the surface of a stormy ocean.

  The stench of aviation fuel from the huge long range tank was making me choke and I held on grimly as the triplane banked west, following Biffo's pre-programmed course.

  With waves of nausea coursing through me, I flew high over the twin spires of Cologne cathedral and then west across the Netherlands. My flight path followed the English Channel, past the white cliffs of Dover, before heading out across the turbulent Atlantic Ocean.

  Gently, I pushed the steering wheel forward and the engine roared in the Atlantic gale as the triplane increased speed.

  Again, an overpowering smell of aviation fuel filled the cockpit. I leaned to starboard, sucking in cold fresh air and wrapped my silk muffler round my mouth so I could check the fuel gauge.

  I still seemed to have a full tank.

  I tapped on the brass gauge to double check and the needle suddenly dropped to half.

  Surely I couldn’t have used fifty percent of my fuel already!

  Something was wrong! I was never going to make it all the way to America at this rate.

  Leaning as far as I could out of the cockpit, I saw that fuel was leaking through a single bullet hole in the, bolted on, long range tank.

  That was bad enough but the highly flammable liquid was dripping on to the red hot exhaust pipes. If I didn’t do something quickly, the triplane, and me, would plunge like a fireball into Davy Jones Locker.

  I found that I could just about reach the tank, but quickly realised that I had no chance of reaching the hole in the bottom.

  In frustration I banged my leather gloved hand off the hard metal.

  Just hitting a fuel tank would achieve nothing… unless, of course, you knew exactly where to hit it. And I hadn’t spent nearly two years in Observer School studying percussive maintenance for nothing!

  I knew that it was fly or die.

  I was really winging it as I opened the tool kit beneath my seat, pulled out the mash hammer and leaned as far as I could out of the cockpit.

  It was time for an A.C.T.D.

  One light tap on the sweet spot made the bullet, inside the fuel tank, flip over and jump into the hole it had made. Naturally it was a perfect fit and, hey presto, I had stopped the leak.

  As long as the aviation fuel that had already spilled out didn’t catch fire I would have enough fuel to make it to my final destination.

  Over the next twenty four hours the triplane took me on a sweeping northern curve over the Atlantic Ocean, towards the Arctic Circle and the southern tip of Greenland, before turning towards the North American coast and Lakehurst aerodrome.

  My rotating card calendar was flickering between 1926 and 1937 as I flew high among the mists of space and time. The sinuous hands of the mahogany and brass chronometer were spinning like a fan that made the Atlantic gales blow even harder.

  According to the ticker tape of information scrolling through the slim tachyscreen on the instrument panel, The Hindenburg had left Frankfurt airfield at 7:16 p.m.

  I checked my pocket watch… I was nearly twelve h
ours and eleven years behind them.

  I tried to relax in the cramped cockpit, realising that I still had at least another day’s journey ahead of me before I caught up with the two airships that were somewhere ahead of me in time and space.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Commander DeBlanc, aware that Nate was playing catch up, had done what he could to slow the Hindenburg down.

  Using his recently launched steam powered weather satellite (see Episode Two) he had seeded the heavy clouds and had made it rain all through the night. Of course, this downpour didn’t slow down the Hindenburg but, at dawn on May 5, with the clouds gone, the Atlantic Ocean heated up and the rising air currents combined to create strong headwinds that did.

  These gales, created by DeBlanc’s artificial weather satellite, also drew thunderstorms out of the centre of America which would soon delay the Hindenburg even more.

  At midnight on Wednesday, May 5 DeBlanc heard the news that the Hindenburg’s proposed 7 o’clock Thursday morning arrival had been postponed by twelve hours.

  He stood steadfastly at his console with his gloved hands behind his back. His gold monocle glinted in the misty light of the steamy, brass and rosewood, control room.

  He had done all he could for his chrononaut, Nate.

  ‘Thursday at 7 pm is the hour of Mercury.’ he murmured, checking a coloured version of the twenty four seven chart on his console. ‘Hermes will surely herald in a new age and the main timeline of history will reboot.’

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  On the morning of May 6, several hours behind schedule, the Hindenburg passed over Boston and learned that her landing at Lakehurst would be further delayed because of DeBlanc's thunderstorms. They changed course to fly over Manhattan Island and caused quite a public spectacle as hard working American’s rushed to their office windows and out into the streets to catch sight of the high flying airship.

  Doctor Mentor was concerned that this unexpected manoeuvre would create a multitude of new time lines but DeBlanc assured him that it would have no effect on the main timeline that was resetting nicely.

  ‘Nate is catching up with every passing moment.’ said DeBlanc, consulting his pocket watch. ‘There is no need to change any of our plans. Order is being restored.’

  ‘But Chaos Theory is based on the notion that all unstable systems are unpredictable.’ persisted Dr Mentor. ‘A tiny change will have a huge impact on the long term outcomes.’

  ‘Yes! Yes! And a stitch in time will save nine... my grandmother taught me that.’ said DeBlanc, as the clocks in the control room began to strike the hour. ‘The flow of time is not infinitely variable! There is no scientific evidence that the whole of the universal, space-time, continuum is unstable.’

  ‘But it can be pretty chaotic.’ said Doctor Mentor, trying to cover both his ears with one hand as clocks chimed, cuckooed and ding-donged all around the control room.

  ‘Yes! Yes! But chaotic does not mean entirely random and haphazard.’ said DeBlanc, snapping his pocket watch shut. ‘Systems that are defined as ‘chaotic’ are unpredictable, but the flow of time within them will be deterministic in any given situation.’

  ‘If we knew the exact value of every parameter that influenced the course of history at each given moment.’ said Doctor Mentor. ‘We would be able to precisely control every event and make our fortune by predicting the future.’

  ‘But precise control of every minuscule aspect of reality is an impossibility.’ said Commander DeBlanc, examining a small gold coin that he had just found in his waistcoat pocket. ‘It is in fact a physical impossibility… even with our advanced technology. Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle reigns supreme!’

  ‘Well… I’m not sure about that.’ said Dr Mentor with a wry smile. ‘Our best course of action is to join all possible alternatives into one single time-line and combine their best features.’

  ‘The explosion that blasted Ginger free from the angled space outside of time may have already done that.’ said DeBlanc, turning the gold coin over in his hand. ‘Cause and effect have returned to their proper sequence. In fact… everything is returning to its appointed place and time. The Wave signal from 1926 has disappeared and Hitler’s life record on the time viewer ends in 1945.’

  ‘We need to recover that triplane,’ said Doctor Mentor, ‘and the other equipment that Nate is bringing with him.’

  ‘The moment when everything will recover is approaching.’ said DeBlanc, tossing the coin high into the air and watching it spin. ‘Within a few hours we shall see which side it falls on.’

  ‘But it will fall!’ said Doctor Mentor, still smiling. ‘That is for sure and for certain. The inevitable ‘Countdown to Calamity!’ has begun.’

  ‘The Diary of Doom!’ shouted Wayne, with an unexpected flourish from the steam room.

  ‘The Chronicle of Catastrophe!’ added Lolly, thoughtfully.

  ‘The Diary of Disaster!’ said Doctor Mentor, determined not to be outdone. ‘The Filofax of Fate.’

  ‘4:00 p.m.’ growled DeBlanc, glancing at his tachyscreen. ‘The Timetable to Terror has indeed started. The Hindenburg has just been advised of a further three hour delay and has now taken its passengers on a tour of New Jersey. We shall wait here for Nate, high above our thunderstorms and out of range of their primitive tracking devices.’

  As Nate flew on through the mists, he had the strangest sensation that the Atlantic Ocean below him was vanishing and reforming into snowy mountains.

  It seemed to be happening in waves and reminded him of the shifting, variable landscape that he had first seen through the Wells Tippler tube.

  He had flown a phenomenal distance, a tiny red speck in the grey sky, almost invisible from above or below, and he wondered if his tremendous tiredness was causing his mind to reproduce the eccentric visions that he had experienced recently.

  Wearily he kept pushing forward.

  It had to be near the end now… his instruments were failing and he was running out of fuel. Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was almost upon him.

  ‘I wonder what time it is.’ he said, as the hands on the clock spun furiously.

  ‘6:00 p.m.’ said DeBlanc, watching the Hindenburg approach. ‘Now that the worst of the thunderstorms have passed, The Hindenburg has turned back towards Lakehurst.’

  ‘Almost half a day late.’ announced Doctor Mentor. 'How can we say we are on time?'

  ‘Lakehurst aerodrome has been closed to the public.’ said DeBlanc. ‘To facilitate a quick turnaround for their scheduled departure back to Europe.’

  ‘It will take several hours to restock her.’ said Dr Mentor. ‘The Hindenburg is fairly large by normal airship standards.’

  ‘Just twenty five meters shorter than the Titanic.’ said DeBlanc, with a sardonic smile. ‘Standby for action.’

  Just as his fuel gauge hit empty, Nate spotted Lakehurst far below on his starboard side. He had taken the triplane up as high as he could and now, as the engine spluttered to a stop, it began to descend rapidly… gliding silently downwards.

  This was it.

  Commander DeBlancc and Captain Wright kept up a running commentary over the Uchronie’s loudspeakers so everyone knew what was happening.

  ‘7:00 pm.’ announced DeBlanc as his control room clocks chimed again. ‘The second hour of Mercury is upon us.’ The Hindenburg is approaching Lakehurst, at an altitude of two hundred metres, to attempt a high landing.’

  ‘7:09 pm. The Hindenburg has had to make another turn around the landing field.’ said Captain Wright. ‘The ground crew ain’t ready.’

  7:11 pm. ‘They have turned back toward the landing field.’ said DeBlanc. ‘All engines are idled ahead and the airship is coming in dead ahead slow.’

  7:14 pm. ‘They have ordered all engines full astern to bring her to a standstill.’ said DeBlanc, ‘We are going to descend to five thousand feet to observe.’

  7:17pm. ‘Our descent has caused t
he wind to shift to the southwest.’ said Captain Wright. ‘We have disturbed The Hindenburg and she has had to go round in a sharp starboard turn.’

  7:18 pm. ‘She’s coming in again at an altitude of 90 metres.’ said DeBlanc. ‘The starboard mooring lines have just been thrown down from the bow.’

  7:20 pm. ‘Daddy! Look!’ shouted Lolly, as a red triplane burst through the heavy grey clouds above Lakehurst. ‘Look! It’s Nate! He’s made it.’

  ‘Just in time for the main event.’ said DeBlanc, standing firm and holding the Uchronie steady. ‘This hour of Mercury will be short and sharp… and remembered for a very long time.'

  ‘There’s something wrong.’ cried Lolly. ‘Nate’s coming in too steeply… and he’s on the opposite side from all the movie cameras.’