by Bob Mayer
She signaled and the two Sikh guards came over.
“Take her outside and execute her.”
The two men exchanged glances, then the senior of the two nodded. “Yes, Prime Minister.”
Neeley prepared to fight as soon as they cut her loose.
Which was fruitless as they lifted Neeley, still tied to the chair, and carried her between them. Out of the door, into a garden behind the house. She recognized the place.
Neeley struggled, jerking back and forth to no avail. They set the chair down and took a couple of steps away from her. One was armed with a Sterling submachinegun and the other drew a revolver from a shoulder holster.
“Hold on!” Neeley said. She’d stopped struggling because she didn’t want to tip the chair over and die lying on the ground. This was bad enough. “Do you know what she’s doing? She’s going to nuke Pakistan. Karachi, Hyderabad, and Islamabad. Millions are going to die. Why? You’re not at war! ”
The two once more exchanged looks, but the one with the sub raised it to his shoulder, aiming at her.
“Satwant Singh,” Neeley said. “Why do you serve a ruler who sent troops into the Golden Temple? Who has been killing your people?” She looked at the man with the revolver. “Beant Singh. Why are you doing the same?”
The barrel of the submachinegun dropped slightly. “How do you know our names?” Satwant demanded.
“I know if the Prime Minister is not stopped millions will die today. And it will not end there. The Chinese will get involved. The Russians. The Americans. A fire will be ignited. Here.” Neeley nodded her head toward the residence. “A fire that will consume the planet.”
Satwant lowered the Sterling. “Who are you?”
Neeley looked to the east. The slightest tint of gray in the dark sky. BMNT was quickly approaching. She remembered Gant teaching her the term: beginning morning nautical twilight. When the bad guys attack . She didn’t know what dawn was for Gandhi. BMNT? Sunrise?
Her arrival had made it worse , Neeley realized. The Shadow had played this perfectly, telling Gandhi just enough to set this up.
“What do you think she will do to your people now, if she’s willing to kill millions of Pakistanis? Who will stop her? What will stop her?”
According to history, these two assassinated Gandhi at 9:20 this morning. Surely that hadn’t been a spur of the moment decision? The download indicated it hadn’t been.
“You were going to kill her anyway,” Neeley said. “This morning.”
Beant turned to his partner. “How does she know this?”
“Why don’t you kill her before she kills millions?” Neeley suggested. It was lighter in the east.
“We should run,” Satwant said to his comrade. “Get away.”
Beant shook his head. “It is too late. She is right. We must—“
“What are you doing?” Gandhi came forward, along the garden path, passing through the wicket gate.
To the spot where history—
Beant fired three times in rapid succession, the bullets striking the Prime Minister in the stomach. She staggered back, hands clasped over her abdomen. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “No. It can’t be. Not now. It’s too soon.”
She went to her knees .
Satwant fired the Sterling on automatic, the 9 mm bullets hitting her as she held her hands up in an instinctive protective gesture.
She was blown backward by the impacts.
Satwant’s submachinegun stopped firing, the bolt locked back, the magazine empty.
Guards came rushing out of the house along with the Generals.
Both Sikhs threw their weapons to the ground and raised their hands to surrender. Both were gunned down in blaze of fire from several guards. Several rounds passed close by Neeley.
A man knelt next to Gandhi, checking her. Several of the Generals were shouting orders.
One of the security guards ran up to Neeley and pointed his submachinegun at her head, his finger twitching on the trigger.
North Atlantic, 31 October 1941 A.D.
“You open the outside hatch and escape,” Topp said to Roland. “We are not very deep. You can make it to the surface. Perhaps the other escort ships will find you. They will be quartering the water for survivors.”
Roland turned to Jager and relayed the plan.
“Yes,” Jager said. “I will help the Captain open the hatch once you flood the compartment. We must be quick. I do not have much more time”
Topp was already at the forward hatch. “I am ready. You must make sure you tie yourself off to the rung just inside the top hatch so you are not swept back in here. You are a strong man and we are not very deep. You will be able to open it against the water pressure. Once the first surge is past, get out. Then there will be a second surge when you open the way to the engine room.”
Roland had never cared for the Navy, but he had to admit their Captains could make decisions swiftly and decisively. He nodded. “I will get the outside hatch. I—“ he wasn’t certain what else to say.
Jager put a hand on Roland’s shoulder. “Good hunting.”
Roland nodded. “The same. Your name will be revered in your lodge. ”
Jager crawled forward, next to Topp. He indicated for Roland to go up.
Roland reached up, gripping the edge of the inside lip of the loading hatch and pulled himself up, into the narrow tube.
“Do it!” Topp’s voice carried the edge of command, echoing up to Roland.
Roland tied his belt off to the rung, looping it under both his arms. Then he grabbed the wheel.
“I hate the water,” he muttered. He took several deep breaths.
Then he turned the wheel. It spun easily enough, well-maintained , Roland thought. Then it came to a stop. Getting as much leverage as he could, Roland pushed upward. Nothing for a moment, then water began to seep in. He pushed harder. The hatch popped open and the sea surged in.
Roland was slammed back against the side of the tube, the belt keeping him from being sucked back inside.
It only took a few seconds, then all was still. Roland was floating, the room below him flooded. He unbuckled the belt, push up, out of the tube. Into a forest of kraken tentacles waving about.
He slashed as one came at him. There was daylight above.
He looked down. No second surge of water.
Another tentacle attacked and Roland barely dodged it.
Still nothing from below.
Roland reached down and pulled himself back into the hatch, along the tube, into the torpedo room.
The red emergency lights were still on, German engineering. Topp and Jager were struggling with the hatch. Topp had his feet on the bulkhead, using his thigh muscles to pull, his hands on the wheel.
Jager was unwrapping the tourniquet for some reason. As Roland swam closer he saw why; Jager jammed the wrench as a lever, trying to help Topp. Blood pulsed out of his limb.
But the hatch wasn’t moving.
Roland fought the panic of being trapped, underwater, carbon dioxide beginning to burn his lungs. He focused on the hatch. He swam next to Topp, reached down, his hands next to the Germans. He put his feet on the bulkhead and squatted.
All those years in the weight rooms, lifting sandbags during deployments, all that work was coming down to this one moment.
Roland began to lift .
Out of the corner of his eye he could see a kraken tentacle blindly come through the torpedo loading tube, blindly searching. Jager let go of the wrench, floating, motionless.
Roland closed his eyes and put it all into one effort.
The hatch popped open and Roland, Topp and Jager were swept into the engine room, flooding it.
Roland hit something, machinery, then something else, covered in scales, a Grendel. His lungs were screaming, stars exploding in his brain from lack of oxygen.
I hate the water .
The Multiverse
Scout rubbed a clear circle on the glass of the other red pod. A young man was in
side, like the girl who looked like Lara, floating inside.
“Lukas,” Lara whispered, standing at her side.
Scout checked out the threat. A dozen Legion were spreading out, moving to encircle them. They were in no rush, confident in their numbers. The Gate, a black, shimmering rectangle, was still open and the path to it clear.
“Okay,” Scout said. “Time to get.”
Lara didn’t move. She had a hand on the cold glass, peering at the person inside.
Scout grabbed Lara’s shoulder and pulled her away from the pod. “We’ve got to go.”
Dazed, Lara nodded.
Scout forced her toward the Gate, noting that the Legion were charging. She shoved Lara as hard she could without knocking her over. They ran and Lara was snatched into the darkness. As Scout was about to enter she took one last look.
At this angle she could see out one of the tall windows on the side of the building.
“Frak me!” she exclaimed upon the sight outside that was revealed and then she was into the Gate.
The Return
IVAR sat on the Lexington Avenue subway, sandwiched between Angus and Edith. “Where are we going?”
“The Possibility Palace,” Edith said.
Angus was covered in dust, but it was New York City. He could have been covered in purple paint and no one would have cared.
“How do we get there?” Ivar said. “Legion wanted to know that, but I couldn’t tell him. Why couldn’t I tell him?”
“Because I blocked it in your memory,” Edith said.
“Oh. Okay.”
Edith glanced past him at Angus. “How come there weren’t police and fire racing there if you set off those charges? I didn’t see anything from outside.”
“I imploded everything inside the floor,” Angus said. “A dust initiator charge. I’d tell you how to rig one, but you don’t be wanting such information clouding up your pretty mind.”
“Right,” Edith said.
“They’ll be there soon enough,” Angus said, “but the building’s fine. Everything on that floor though, isn’t.”
The train pulled into a station and the conductor’s voice was garbled. “86th Street. 86th Street.”
“Our stop,” Edith announced.
The three stood.
“It will be a ripple,” Ivar said. “All those servers gone.”
“It’s not a ripple,” Edith said. “It’s part of our present.”
The doors slide open and they stepped onto the platform .
“Oh, yes,” Angus said. He pulled a phone out of his pocket. “Thank you for letting me use this.”
Edith took her phone back. She noticed that the counter was stopped at 00:18.
Angus smiled. “Plenty of time, lass. Plenty of time.”
*****
EAGLE was above the Valley of Death, not sure if he were dead or alive. He looked at his hands and they were unmarked from the electricity that had gone through him into the watering hole.
He looked down from a vantage point a hundred meters up. Bodies of ‘baby’ Grendels floated on top of the water. So many, one couldn’t even see any water. Just dead monsters.
The last of the Grendels were going down as the ‘loins’ of Shaka Zulu’s army attacked.
The last thing he saw was Jager, bleeding from a half-dozen wounds, battling the final Aglaeca.
*****
DEATH wasn’t so bad, Roland thought as he floated in a black ether of nothingness. His lungs didn’t hurt any more. And he wasn’t in water. But his clothes were wet. Did one have clothes in heaven?
He smiled, thinking of what Neeley would say to that. Hell was a more likely destination for him.
But there was light, growing brighter. He was in the air. Above the water and he knew. He was going back. But for now he was above the North Atlantic. He looked down. He could see the dark cigar shape of the U-Boat just below the surface, surrounded by kraken. But then it began to fade, going down.
The kraken were wrapping their tentacles around it, trying to keep it up, as their internal ‘jets’ blew water, trying to swim with the ship.
Didn’t think of that , Roland realized.
There was a popping noise as an interior hatch gave way.
Not going to work bitches , Roland thought to himself. The U-boat was going down, taking the kraken with it .
And Captain Topp and his crew. And Jager. And the Grendel and Aglaeca and Legion and the eggs.
To join the Reuben James . In the darkness at the bottom of the ocean.
Roland flashed forward, back to his time.
Tell me, what were their names, tell me what were their names?
Did you have a good friend on the Reuben James?
*****
NEELEY was in the tunnel of time, trying to understand.
Anything.
How had an assassination almost turned into Armageddon?
Her hands were throbbing, the burns on her body pulsed with pain.
She didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around herself allowing herself to be carried back.
She saw a timeline to one side. Those cities Gandhi had targeted in Pakistan blossoming with the bright flash of nuclear bursts.
It didn’t happen , Neeley thought.
Or did it?
And then she was back and Roland was draping a blanket over her, gathering her in his powerful arms. “What did they do to you?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern.
Neeley managed a smile. “How was your trip, dear?”
“I drowned,” Roland said, “but I’m better now. Let me take care of you.”
*****
LARA saw Unity Hale wandering through the forest. The girl wasn’t afraid, stopping every so often to examine a plant. Occasionally she gathered leaves or dug out a root, putting it in a makeshift pouch slung over one shoulder.
Lara felt the pull back to her own time, but fought against it, worried about the girl who wasn’t worried about herself.
Frak me .
A half-dozen Native Americans leapt out of hiding positions and surrounded Unity, knives and hatchets raised .
Unity smiled at them and waved. She held up the pouch. She twirled and danced and acted like a complete lunatic in Lara’s eyes.
The surrounding warriors lowered their weapons.
One of the Native Americans came forward. Lara stopped dancing and held out the bag. He looked in it and nodded. Then issued orders. The others turned and headed off. He looked at Unity. He smiled, nodded and indicated for her to follow.
The tribe had a new medicine woman.
Unity was fine and Lara was snatched back to her time.
But she remembered the people in the red pods and screamed into the ether of time.
*****
SCOUT allowed herself to be borne forward, sideways, whatever way she was coming from whenever and wherever she’d been, without much awareness. There was no sign of Lara and the Gate had not led back to the house and kitchen.
All Scout could think of was what she’d seen outside of that window: The massive golden tower at the center of Atlantis, reaching up into the sky, and above it, a massive dome extending out of sight in all directions. The dome had been dirty and smeared and the sky outside dark, with blood red streaks in filthy clouds.
Scout finally noticed that Lachesis was at her side, moving through the time tunnel with her.
“That was the Shadow’s world,” Scout said.
“It was,” Lachesis confirmed.
“When was that? When in the past?”
“It wasn’t the past,” Lachesis said. “That was the Shadow timeline. Now.”
The End
For Now
Our History Afterward
Zero Day-Zero Year
Zero Day vulnerabilities are considered precious in the eyes of hackers; and nations, whose security agencies accumulate them for possible exploits. At the very start of ARPANET, even before the first Internet message sent on Black Tuesday, 1969, Willis W
are warned about the inevitable in a classified paper that, in essence, stated that once you put information on a computer network you’re creating inherent vulnerabilities—there would be no more secrets.
Willis Ware was a consultant on a 1983 movie, War Games . At a meeting of the National Security Council, Ronald Reagan, who’d watched the movie the previous weekend at Camp David, asked, out of the blue, if anyone else had seen the movie? No one had since it had just come out. Reagan begins to describe the movie and everyone in the room is exchanging glances like: “What’s he talking about?” Reagan then tasked the Chairman of Joint Chiefs to report back to him on whether the scenario in the movie, where a kid hacks into the nuclear launch system, was possible. The next week, the Chairman reported back to Reagan that not only was it possible, the entire situation was much worse and “Our computer systems are vulnerable to electronic interference and interception by foreign powers, by criminals.”
We really haven’t gotten much better.
Zululand, Africa, 31 October 1828 A.D.
Because there is no first hand account of Shaka Zulu’s life and reign, the stories often conflict. He did revolutionize warfare in South Africa and built a kingdom that lasted for over fifty years.
Shaka was assassinated by his half-brother, Dingane and two others in 1828. One of Dingane’s first acts was to kill all of his family who might threaten him for the throne. Except for a half-brother, Mpande who was considered too weak to be a threat. Naturally, Mpande eventually assassinated Dingane and took the throne.
In 1879, the Zulus dealt the British their greatest defeat in Africa at Isandlwana. It was a Pyrrhic victory though as the British increased their forces and wreaked vengeance, essentially ending the Zulu Kingdon.
Salem Massachusetts, 31 October 1692 A.D.
Salem, MA was settled in 1629 and named Salem, for Shalom, a Hebrew word meaning ‘place of peace’.
The first accusations of witchcraft occurred in January 1692. As the year went accusations and counter-accusations flew. The first hanging occurred on 10 June. All told 19 people are hanged. One, Giles Corey, was pressed to death because he refused to confess, because that would allow the states to seize all his property from his family. He last words were “More weight.”