Magestic 2

Copyright © Geoff Wolak

www.geoffwolak-writing.com

Part 8

Paradox

Sat in the diner with Jimmy and Cookie, late one evening, and discussing the old house in Wales, Susan came out to us, looking worried.

‘Everything alright, love?’ I asked.

She sat without answering. ‘Cookie, can you give us a minute, please.’

‘Sure,’ Cookie said, easing up, whilst instinctively picking up the dirty cups.

‘What’s up, babes?’ I puzzled, easing forwards.

‘I’m … not who you think I am,’ she told us.

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. ‘We know,’ I told her. ‘Jimmy clocked the inconsistencies in your cover story on day one.’

‘You did?’ she asked him directly.

Jimmy nodded. ‘I injected a few women during the Christmas of 2013, none of them young - or white,’ Jimmy explained.

‘Ah,’ she let out.

‘Gilchrist sent you,’ I stated.

She puzzled that. ‘No.’

‘No?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Then who?’ I pressed.

‘You sent me,’ she told me.

‘I did?’

‘Another him?’ Jimmy asked.

She nodded. ‘The famous Paul Holton,’ she sarcastically stated.

I wagged a finger. ‘I never did like the look of that guy, shifty character.’

Jimmy gave me a look. Facing Susan, he said, ‘Why? And, more to the point, how did he send you?’

‘He knew how this timeline would pan out, so he wanted to alter a small detail,’ Susan explained. ‘He waited your signal, the one that the other me would have responded to, and intercepted it.’

‘So … would the other you have spied for the Americans then?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Oh,’ I let out. ‘Then what?’

She took a moment. ‘Tomorrow night, or the next night, a Japanese sub will surface in the inlet -’ Jimmy and I both eased up. ‘- and it will fire on the hotel.’

‘Who dies?’ Jimmy firmly asked.

‘I do, along with Mary.’

Jimmy turned his head to the kitchens. ‘Cookie! Sound the alarm, and evacuate the hotel. Now!’

As the alarm sounded, Jimmy eased forwards. ‘How would I have reacted, and how would things be different?’ he urgently got out.

‘You would have attacked Tokyo a few weeks early, but beyond that there would be little change.’

‘Except to my fucking life!’ I snapped, looking away.

People were now peering out of doors, those few left at the hotel, Cookie organising an evacuation.

Jimmy stood. ‘Get your family out, right now,’ he told me. ‘Hotel in Vancouver.’ I led Susan back to our suite as Jimmy picked up the phone. ‘I want four main tanks and six light tanks at the hotel straight away, fully loaded, and I want the test drivers sat in them.’

We had packed a bag and roused the kids by time the police screeched up, sirens wailing. We rushed downstairs, and I grabbed the first patrol car. ‘Get us to Vancouver, right now!’

At the hotel, our city hotel, we found rooms, Jimmy arriving ten minutes later. Susan and I stepped out when he called, our nanny minding the kids, Jimmy leading us down to the quiet and empty bar, just cleaners now in attendance.

Sat facing Susan, he said, ‘You could have told us earlier.’

‘I was trying hard not to upset the timeline. These past years I’ve … well, been trying to behave according to how I was told by the other Paul.’

‘Makes sense,’ Jimmy finally admitted. ‘But, he could have just sent a bloody note.’ He waited.

‘That prior knowledge would have affected how you think, and so far this timeline has panned out as it should, almost exactly.’

‘But now that we know, it may alter,’ I pointed out.

‘The other you defied the World Government on his world and decided to alter a few things,’ Susan explained.

‘Good for him,’ I commended.

‘Hal is due to die in a motorcycle accident in six years, and Ngomo will be killed by a wife.’

I tried not to smile at that last part, Jimmy and I exchanging a quick look.

‘But I don’t have a complete picture, he wouldn’t tell me,’ Susan added. ‘Just those key events. And, there’s something else. We … were lovers.’

‘You were lovers with the other Paul?’ Jimmy asked. ‘When?’

‘After he briefed me on this mission,’ Susan explained.

‘At least you knew what you’d have to put up with,’ Jimmy commented.

‘Excuse me?’ I asked him.

He ignored me. ‘Did it prepare you for his bad habits?’

She nodded.

‘What bad habits?’ I protested, getting a look from Susan.

‘And how does the mission now alter, regarding you and Ugly Mug here?’ Jimmy asked.

‘The other me chose to come, and I chose to come knowing what the future had in store, and I’m happy enough with our family life.’ She faced me. ‘I wasn’t planning on going back suddenly.’

Jimmy began, ‘When we go back – to our world, there’ll be another you already over there.’

‘That’s a long way into the future,’ she commented. Facing me, she said, ‘Besides, after forty years together we may need a break.’

I heaved a sigh. ‘Losing you and Mary like that … I … would have found it hard to cope.’

‘Don’t dwell on it,’ Jimmy firmly told me. ‘Time travel is about altering things, and fixing things; so move on and deal with it.’

‘There’s something else,’ Susan began. She hesitated. ‘The other world, we ... split from your world before you, Jimmy, set off sailing to write your biography.’

Jimmy frowned. ‘Then ... where is the other me?’

Susan took a moment. ‘Dead.’

‘Dead?’ I repeated. ‘Dead ... how dead?’

‘When the worlds split, something odd happened, and our scientists monitored it in real-time. There were massive electrical storms across the world, electrical disruptions, odd events. They say – the scientists – that our world received less energy than the original world somehow. And you, Jimmy, you ... fell apart at the atomic level, dead in three days.’

Jimmy made a face. ‘Can’t live forever.’

‘You melted,’ I told him. ‘Shit, what a way to go.’ I faced Susan. ‘Was it because of all his travels?’

‘They think so,’ she acknowledged. ‘And we had to use thirty percent more power to open a portal after that. The scientists, some of them, said that our world was somehow further away than it should have been.’

I faced Jimmy. ‘You’ll have to be careful where you travel next.’

‘As I said, I can’t live forever.’

‘Did he get a nice send-off?’ I quipped.

‘Yes, a week of national mourning worldwide,’ Susan confirmed.

I stood over Mary in the dark, watching her as she slept, and half an hour must have passed. In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection for what seemed like another half hour, my hand shaking. Getting into bed, I cuddled up to Susan.

‘You thought I was a spy, like Helen,’ Susan noted.

‘I did, yes.’

‘And now?’

‘And now … it’s an almost exact parallel.’

‘Meaning?’ she softly pressed.

‘Meaning … I’m very happy where I am, and with whom I am.’

‘You’re a hell of an actor, and a liar.’

‘Look who’s talking!’

‘Part of the reason I came … was to save the other me, and the other Mary; I felt like she was my own. But part was also to help you.’

‘Help me?’

‘You would have suffered for many years after … she went, after … we went.’

‘Would it have affected the mission?’

‘Not to a great extent; you would have become more focused, but also more introverted.’

‘I can imagine. But it’s nice to know the other me is looking out for me. It must have been odd for Jimmy to fix me up with Helen, because they were lovers on a previous trip of his. Anyway … thank you for coming.’

‘The other you hinted that our children had a destiny,’ she quietly stated.

‘Children grow up and … follow their parents sometimes.’

Two nights later I was stood with Jimmy on the inlet, AK47s slung, the tanks hidden, two dozen Canadian Mounties hidden. We had only a few soldiers to call upon, and they now sat in bushes with RPGs and AK47s. Just after midnight, with the lights in the hotel blazing, the water’s surface parted, the wake barely discernable. I cocked my weapon, followed by Jimmy. The sub surfaced quickly, and we would not have seen it if we had not been stood looking for it, the sub benefiting from a dark night with low cloud overhead.

Japanese crewmen rushed out, four of them tackling the deck gun. I stepped forwards to the water’s edge, and fired a long burst toward them, Jimmy joining in. A deafening blast to my right, and the sub’s conning tower was sliced off, a blinding flash as I continued to fire. The overlapping blasts of five other tanks dulled my senses, the sub torn to pieces, streaks of fifty cal and thirty cal tracer rounds reaching out to it, bouncing off the hull. The firing continued for a good thirty seconds before the sub sank, a burst of air and spray sent skywards from several places. No one could have survived aboard the sub, its upper deck punctured a dozen times.

Calm reclaimed the inlet, police and soldiers rushing to the water’s edge.

‘Good job you intercepted their radio signals, Mister Holton, sir,’ a police officer said. ‘Could have destroyed the hotel, with ya’all in it.’

I slowly nodded. ‘Yes, it could have.’

Back at the hotel in Vancouver, Jimmy poured me a whisky. ‘As we speak, one of our B52’s is returning to Lemming Base. I sent the Japanese Prime Minister a little thank you note.’

‘They hit Tokyo?’ I asked before sipping my drink.

‘They hit Tokyo Bay with thousand pound bombs, and sunk four capital ships – they radioed in a report when they approached the coast a little while ago. They also hit an oil refinery, which wasn’t part of the plan, and the dockside warehouses.’

‘We’ll get a call in the morning,’ I said with a sigh. ‘President will want to know the detail. And now the Japs know that we can hit them any time we like.’

Jimmy sipped his drink. ‘The subs have sunk forty-six surface vessels and six Jap subs to date; unsustainable. I think we can move to the end-game there soon, just a matter of weeks.’

‘Have we done enough damage?’

‘Not as much as I would like, but we need to be conscious of what the historians will accuse us of in the years to come. Besides, no re-supply ships have reached the Philippines - or their forces west of Hong Kong - in two weeks. And they needed ten ships a day to keep going. So, next week we’ll chat to the President and make a plan for the Japanese surrender – after we’ve flattened a few Japanese cities.’

‘How long was the B52 up?’ I idly enquired.

‘Sixteen hours or more. They made four bombing passes from seventeen thousand feet, taking their time apparently. The scientists believe that the thousand pound bombs may have gone straight through a battleship, exploding underneath. From that height, they gain a great deal of kinetic energy.’

In the morning a few bodies washed ashore, others fetched out, a Canadian Coastguard cutter now in the bay, a US destroyer further out. The story made the newspapers around America, a shock to the residents of Vancouver, and to the residents of Trophy itself. The tanks remained in place for another week, before four were permanently manned and stationed covering the inlet, night sights employed, a fast patrol boat with pinging sonar now cruising the inlet on a regular basis.

That evening, Jimmy sat me down in a quiet corner away from everyone else.

‘Problem?’ I asked as Jimmy checked over his shoulder.

He faced me, and took a moment. ‘You know yourself better than even I do, so … how do you see your other self operating … in sending Susan to us?’

‘You … still think she’s not being truthful?’ I puzzled.

‘There are … things that are not right with this timeline,’ he hinted.

‘Oh.’ I made a face. ‘Well, if I was in that situation … I’d be jealous as hell of the other me for getting her … instead of me.’

‘Would you also be jealous that the other you was here doing something useful whilst he was stuck going head to head with the World Government on his world?’

‘Well … yes, probably. Why?’

‘I’m sure now that he’s here, and has been for a long while.’

‘What!’ I glanced around, easing forwards. ‘My other self is here?’

‘I’m sure of it. Question is … why not make contact?’

‘Well, the obvious answer would be to work behind the scenes, to fix things.’

‘Things … that we, and our team, may screw up?’ Jimmy posed.

‘Well, yeah. We know this time line, but there are aberrations, and we’re altering it as we go, so there’re bound to be a few things that need fixing, like Hal killing himself on a damn motorbike.’

‘Your other self knows the outcome of this timeline, and our interaction with it. So … one wrong move and the outcome is not the outcome. He seems to be being … foolish.’

I eased back. ‘Put an advert in the paper, in code, ask him to come forwards – or to fuck off home,’ I suggested. ‘Anyway, why do you think he’s here if you have no proof?’

‘I’ve been studying a series of aberrations, and in each instance someone’s mind was changed, not a physical event like a ship sinking; each event could have been changed with a simple bribe. I was, at one point, considering some sort of temporal incursion by a German supporter, before I considered your other self.’

‘My other self … is helping the Germans?’ I puzzled.

‘It seems so, but not to help the Germans directly. There’s a secret pact between Poland and Russia, to cooperate on German threats, and that shouldn’t be in place. The Polish Army has been secretly strengthened, and Sykes has discovered that the Germans have developed coal-oil technology using a two-part chemical process.’

My eyes widened. ‘The Germans have coal-oil technology?’

‘Advanced … technology. They’re getting a good supply of petrol for their tanks and trucks, and at a low price.’

‘Why the hell would my other self give them that, it could alter the war?’ I quietly protested.

‘It could lengthen the war and make them more confident,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘Which we desire; if they collapse next week we’ll see the bulk of the German Army intact. Sykes also reports that they have a jet aircraft on the drawing board, just six months away from production.’

‘Could someone here be helping them?’ I thought out loud.

‘No one here would, since the German’s can’t win. If someone here was a secret Nazi sympathiser, the Germans would have won by now – and with nukes!’

‘Well, yeah, I suppose. Why just give them coal-oil?’

‘It was a significant German weakness - their lack of fuel, but it doesn’t hand them advanced weapons. It keeps them fighting longer, which leads me to believe it’s your other self.’

‘A bit cheeky though. One wrong move and the war could swing against us.’

‘It’s you, remember, and you’re a dull twat sometimes,’ Jimmy thought he’d point out.

‘I can’t believe my other self is sneaking about out there, and I’m snuggled up to Susan.’ My faced dropped. ‘What if he’s in touch with her?’

Jimmy smiled. ‘Then he could bump you off and replace you. The only difference Susan would notice ... would be better sex for a while.’

I wagged a warning finger. ‘We should confront her about it.’

‘Should we?’

‘Yes. We can’t have him running around out there.’

‘If he’s running around out there … it’s for a reason. Besides, she may dump you for him.’

‘We’re identical,’ I pointed out.

‘The kids would be confused if he turns up.’

‘Yes, they would be; very confused.’

‘And so would the US Government, your identical twin suddenly appearing. As well as the other people around here.’

‘How long do you think he’s been here?’

‘Twelve years, I reckon.’

‘Twelve years? Working in the shadows all this time?’

Jimmy checked over his shoulder. ‘As I said, he must have his reasons, as well as a desire to be away from the future. But given how famous we are here, he’d have to alter his appearance; no one has reported you in two places at once.’

‘We can’t be sure he is out there,’ I finally stated. ‘And the aberrations could be … aberrations.’

Jimmy shook his head. ‘No, the aberrations have numbered more than twenty, and all benefit us indirectly, some a bit obvious. I’ve even tracked back to a few people who were bribed, and the man is your height and build, but bald with a beard, same accent. Once he used the alias of Jack Gardener, once called himself Spiro Gotham.’

‘Spiro Gotham? Spiral housing, Gotham city.’

Jimmy nodded. ‘Yeah, your other self is a bit lazy when it comes to aliases.’

‘Shit … I’m here. But if I’m here, why send Susan back with a message; he ... could have tipped us off about the Jap sub.’

‘It’s a work in progress, and I won’t know till I beat him about the head with a rolled up magazine. But I suspect something is going on, something beyond the obvious. And Sykes is keeping the German technology advances away from Churchill and the British. It would be hard to explain away.’

I lifted my eyebrows. ‘Damn right it would.’

Figuring that my other self had access to Germany via Sweden, or possible via Spain and Switzerland - some sort of acquired diplomatic pass, Jimmy ran a series of adverts in newspapers, coded messages that my other self would see, all hinting that it was time to come in from the cold. But I hadn’t mentioned it to Susan yet

As that was going on, the fighting in Europe was intense, the ground battles constant, the casualties high on both sides. The RAF were keeping the German fighters busy, whilst our prop fighters and Boeings launched daily raids against anything that moved on the ground, from Holland to the Brest peninsular. Spanish socialists had massed at their border with France and crossed it, large numbers of German units tied up in the hills. Free French soldiers and civilians had crossed into Spain, joined up with the Spanish socialists, and returned to France carrying bolt-action rifles, some with the more sophisticated weapons that we had supplied.

Our three airfields in Spain launched daily raids across the border, bridges bombed, roads holed, and life for the Germans was hard, re-supply an issue, forward units often running short of food – as well as being under constant fire.

Successive German counter-offensives had captured land on the Brest peninsular, only to suffer the same fate as the previous attacks, in that the German rear was torn apart by air strikes and Special Forces operators sneaking about. No roads could be relied upon, all duly blown up shortly after repairs had been made. The tactics of the French Brigade and the British Brigade were to fall back, to hide, and then to harass, a tactic that was working well and wearing down the Germans, as well as tying up several German divisions.

In the southeast of France, the American Brigade were still receiving air-dropped supplies, and inflicting casualties on the Germans every day, now that the Italians had pulled back. Grenoble was a no-go zone for Germans, unless they were part of an armoured brigade. Day by day, the men of the American Brigade grew in confidence, launching raids further and further afield. More German units were tied up trying to police the area, and to kill or capture the illusive Americans.

To top it all off, and to make life even more difficult for the German occupiers, the regular American Army was on its way, the BBC World Service openly claiming that they would land in Spain, close to the French border, advance British and American units to be seen making bases. That was a ruse, since a day later the Americans landed on the west coast of Sicily at dawn, advance parties of Italian-speaking American soldiers explaining to the locals that they did not want to harm any of those same locals.

It was 3pm that day before the Luftwaffe launched a response, early reports of the American landings not believed by Hitler. The German planes flew from bases in northern Italy, at maximum range, and attempted to find America units worth bombing. The RAF on Malta had other ideas, and committed more than seventy aircraft, Spitfires, prop fighters and Boeings, shooting down half of the German aircraft as the German aircraft circled – looking for something worth bombing. Some of the Boeings and prop fighters had even been flown by black Kenyan pilots.

As that German attack had been launched, the other matter that the German High Command were now debating was the strange report of black soldiers landing west of Brindisi, a parachute drop. Black paratroopers? Could they be American Negro soldiers? The reports were ignored long enough for four hundred men and officers of the Kenyan Rifles to land and group after dawn, and to shoot-up local German units. Italian housewives, stood on their porches, were stunned to see black soldiers in British Army combats - circa 1980, walking down their narrow streets, polite toothy grins offered by the Africans.

America was now committed to a war in Europe: a drive across Sicily and then up Italy, a move that was guaranteed to give the Americans time to build reserves in the south to support the forward lines, whilst engaging the Germans slowly. It seemed a half-hearted attack to me, but it was ultimately very practical - in that it gave the Americans time to play with, and the chance for air warfare to further wear down German resolve.

Churchill, meanwhile, had asked a cheeky favour, and we had obliged. A unit of four hundred Somali Rifles had parachuted onto Crete whilst their brethren had landed in Italy, and had massacred the German garrison at the airport before dawn. They were now busy moving outwards, their dead and wounded left behind, as British paratroopers landed at the airport in Buffalo transports. The Somalis had done the dirty work, and taken the casualties, the British getting the mention on the BBC World Service.

At our hotel, many easels and boards had been set up, many maps drawn, files stacked. Cookie and Sandra used their spare time to annotate maps with the latest figures, front lines, advances, action and downed aircraft, and were a source of information if you wanted to know the latest on the war. Crete and Italy were of great interest to us because the Rifles were in action, our soldiers about to be committed in a larger way. The Royal Navy moved extra ships into the central Med from both sides, from Gibraltar and Suez, and today escorted captured Italian transport ships north as the sun set. We, at the hotel, paced up and down, fearful of German subs and aircraft, all the while hoping that the Germans would be focused on the Americans - and would see the parachute incursion as an elaborate decoy.

At midnight, Italian time, a dozen ships docked at Brindisi, the port fully captured only a few hours earlier by the Rifles. Still, the Rifles had been thorough, no Germans left alive, no prisoners to tie-up our people. Off-loading began, of men and machines, and we began wearing out the carpet. To aid the landing, the RAF in Malta had organised every plane with a night sight that they could, and pounded German airfields after dark, our aircraft operating at maximum range and with drop tanks fitted. The RAF in Britain had launched every heavy bomber to hand, in staggered groups, and those planes now bombed roads and rail links north of Brindisi and up the spine of Italy.

Dawn over Brindisi was welcomed by the growl of forty main tanks and sixty light tanks moving north, support vehicles and infantry following. Ships in port, a badly damaged port, were still offloading half-tracks, jeeps and MLRS, as well as six thousand British soldiers from Alexandria. As the nervous British officers peered ever skywards, no German bombers appeared. The Germans had missed the opportunity to inflict a great deal of damage on our ships as they sat in the port during daylight hours. Our calculated gamble had worked, Churchill delighted, the BBC World Service now reporting a large insert of tanks and men to southern Italy, the Americans advancing quickly and unopposed across Sicily.

The Germans believed the American force to be two hundred thousand men, and vehicles. In fact, the American forces were less than thirty thousand men, the Germans believing that the landings in Brindisi were part of the same operation, and that the black soldiers were American Negroes – not African Rifles.

That evening, as darkness fell over Italy, the British landed a large part of their army from Egypt, the men no longer needed in the desert. As the soldiers landed, the Kenyan Rifles - now bolstered to eight hundred men and operating with plenty of jeeps, moved up into the Italian hills, soon above the tank column moving north and on a parallel course. Their job would be to seek out any German units, and to harass them. The tank column, meanwhile, was struggling due to the roads and bridges having been effectively destroyed by the RAF. The German armour sat the other side of downed-bridges, equally as frustrated by the roads and bridges being out.

It was not until the next day that our tanks found a suitable path through, jeeps sent ahead to scout the land, a few fields crossed where the local roads were impassable. The Luftwaffe put in an appearance, sporadic bombing, no air support available for our ground units from Malta. But our tanks were painted light brown, and blended in with the houses that they negotiated around, and the high stone walls of the area provided added cover. The Luftwaffe did little other than to kill slow-moving Italian housewives.

At 11am that day our tanks spotted German armour and powered straight for them, the Germans amazed by the brazen advance. Each of our tanks was hit several times without effect, finally firing on the Germans from close range, decimating the German tanks and field guns before moving past, infantry units ignored. Our light tanks followed, down narrow streets, the German infantry units now engaged. The half-tracks followed with the tank recovery vehicles, house to house fighting conducted by either Canadian or Kenya Rifles. By sundown, a German armoured brigade had been wiped out, no prisoners taken. The heel of Italy was now secure.

Dambusters

Hal sent Jimmy a note, and after a little debate we agreed that Hal and the team could bomb the same dams that the famous RAF Dambusters had attacked on our world. The dams were of limited tactical benefit, but would boost morale for those fighting against the Germans.

Hal and Hacker lifted off at 9am one day, a bold daylight raid planned, each F15 carrying three bunker buster bombs, no bouncing bombs in sight, nor conceived off. The flight climbed slowly to height over the North Sea, levelling off at eighteen thousand feet, their con trails visible on this clear day. Over the Ruhr Valley they made visual navigational adjustments, benefiting from an RAF Super Goose circling over the principal dam at twenty thousand feet.

Using that bomber’s doughnut con trail as a visual reference, Hal led the flight down in a line astern, a controlled descent. Angled down at almost forty-five degrees, the dam clearly visible below, each plane went super-sonic and touched nine hundred miles per hour before the bombs were released. Throttling right back, the aircraft lifted their noses in turn and climbed back up to the huge doughnut in the sky, evading frustrated flights of 190s.

Speed was the key - the momentum of the bombs, and those bombs now slammed into the dam’s concrete at high speed, punching their way through the surface concrete. Even without the explosives contained within the bombs, the effect of their impacts was dramatic on the dam’s concrete structure. Eighteen bombs had been dropped, the last bomb-run dogged by 190s trying to get an angle or firing from a distance in frustration. Two F15s picked up holes. Of the eighteen bombs dropped, eight had detonated on impact, the most effective two taking a chunk out of the top of the dam, a hole some thirty feet high now releasing water. But many of the bombs had been set with delayed fuses, eight of them now buried in the dam’s structure as Hal led his flight away. The remaining bombs had landed wide, burying themselves in the grassy embankments of the dam, or deep in the mud of the river below the dam.

The German engineers stood staring at the dam an hour later, fists on hips, and laughing at the British bomb fuses – since many had not detonated. Those engineers had edged towards the centre of the dam, and were making ready to send someone down a rope, when the first delayed-fuse bomb detonated, rocking the dam that the engineers were now stood on. Retreat was called for. The engineers inspected the dam from the side, wondering if the faulty British fuses would cause other bombs to go off, and how long it would be before bomb disposal arrived. There was also the question of how, exactly, bomb disposal would tackle a bomb buried in concrete.

Another bomb exploding convinced the engineers that tackling the bombs would be a bad idea, and that they should probably wait a day or so. By midnight, a further four bombs had detonated, a smart German engineer now realising that the explosions were spread roughly an hour apart, and that by dawn they would have all detonated. Through the night, the locals were woken time and again by blasts, but at least the conscript workers housed below the dam had now been evacuated.

By dawn, a second spout of water had appeared, this one set mid-section in the dam, a dramatic burst of water suggesting high pressure. This slow leak would take a long time to empty the dam, whose water level had already fallen a little by the hole at the top. The smart engineer, who had figured the bombs possessed delayed fuses, now advocated another theory, that the gushing water would wear down the concrete and make a larger hole. He was ignored, as teams made ready to lower the dam’s level to effect repairs. They opened sluice gates, and would now wait a few days for the water level to fall. But the combined effect of the vibrations caused by the upper-most hole, the central hole, and now the sluice gates, was a resonance that disturbed more concrete around the central hole. Bits began to fall away as the first engineer stood shaking his head.

A snaking crack from the middle hole reached up and touched the higher hole, and a large section of concrete fell away, three smaller spouts appearing. The first engineer might have said “I told you so”, but would have been shot, so he sloped off, hoping to be a long way off when the dam finally collapsed. That way, less blame. He was far enough away when it did collapse, a central slice of dam some ten yards wide falling away, a roar of escaping water echoing off the nearby hills.

Hal’s mission wasn’t as pointless as it may have seemed, it was a training run for another mission, which was why we had OK’d it in the first place. It was a dry run, albeit not so dry for those downstream of the dam. Hal now lifted off again for the second part of the test flight, three bombs affixed to his F15, a flight of four aircraft following him towards Paris. Over Paris, they circled at eleven thousand feet, just above German fighter ceilings, got their bearings and made their run, but this time with a few modifications. With full flaps, airbrakes applied, engines throttled back, they circled down towards eight thousand - ever mindful of fighters, lined up on their chosen targets and nosed down, almost vertically. At four thousand feet they released their bombs, pulling away with the power on, flaps up, airbrakes closed.

They had each reached a speed close to five hundred MPH at the point of bomb release, a toss-up between speed and penetration – as well as accuracy of targeting. After all, there were Parisians walking around, going about their business. Hal’s first bomb hit its mark, the Gestapo headquarter building, and had punched through three floors and a basement before exploding, bringing the entire building down, the headquarters collapsing from the inside. French prisoners in the cells were all killed, which was part of the price we’d pay for destroying the building, the accuracy of the attack intended to reduce German morale - and to boost the morale of the French resistance.

In addition to the Gestapo headquarters, the principal German infantry barracks were all hit, and all destroyed, casualties high on the ground. Rebuilding the structures would be a bitch. The German commander’s HQ was gone, just a pile of dust, the main police station gone, many French police officers killed alongside the Germans based there. By time Hal landed back in Scotland, a great many senior German officers were dead, administrative control over Paris shattered, a blow to German superiority.

Hal returned later that day, with our blessing, and buzzed Paris at low level and high speed, the Germans running around, air raid sirens wailing. The flypast simply demonstrated that we could fly past, and that they couldn’t stop us. The third part of Hal’s mission would now be put on hold till the right moment, and his team went back to sinking German surface ships.

The crucible

The Antwerp pocket was seeing the most intense fighting of the war, as well as the most resources expended on it. Day and night, the RAF’s heavy bombers would drop their loads onto the edges of the pocket, ground controllers relaying payload accuracy and target positions. When those raids were not being conducted, up to a hundred Boeings and prop fighters at a time would be loosing-off RPGs at ground targets; German armour would not dare venture out in daylight.

No significant breach of the canals had yet been achieved by the Germans, who now used artillery from a distance as the preferred method to vent their anger, and to wear down our troops. Our soldiers snuck out at night and fixed the positions of that German artillery, and our people returned fire, accurate fire. The British infantry units still held onto Brussels, which was no longer such a beautiful and ancient city to visit, and German infantry casualties there being high.

With the Americans now firmly footed in Sicily - moving up the east coast ready to hop across to Italy, and with our tanks and Kenyan Rifles moving north up the spine of Italy, we tried hard to make a few timing calls, as to when this may all end – and how it may end. Politics was an issue, and we wanted the American forces to reach Austria before any German capitulation.

In the Philippines, the Japanese Army was starving, killing local livestock and taking farmers crops. They were cut off, supplies only arriving by plane at night from China. By day, American pilots in Boeings, and now prop fighters, strafed anything that moved, the American lines advancing slowly, but subject to booby-traps and suicidal Japanese counter-attacks.

The professional American units, the Airborne and the Rangers, were now making good progress north, up the east coast of the Philippines, fighting in the hills and jungles against a more and more desperate Japanese infantry. Casualties were high, and tactics were changed in favour of going around fixed Japanese positions, firing RPGs toward them, or leaving snipers behind to keep the Japanese pinned down. Going into caves was now seen as a dangerous pastime.

The American President had been delighted by our raid on Tokyo Bay, and a few US commentators were suggesting that it would all be all over by Christmas. Those commentators were not factoring-in the hundreds of thousands of Japanese soldiers still fighting in China - and the reserves that the Japanese had to call upon. Those reserves would have to swim to the Philippines, but they were still available to defend the beloved homeland.

With the situation in the Pacific agreeable to the President, he was happy to dispatch more troops to the European theatre, and this time they did land in Spain, right where the camps had been made previously. That advance guard had sat around getting a tan, but now assisted their countrymen to move towards the French border. Hitler must have been raising his voice a little in Berlin, because he was now facing yet another front to fight on. And if the American’s second force landing in southern Spain had not upset the Fuhrer enough, Churchill now cheekily sent a few thousand soldiers to Norway, a direct threat to Denmark, RAF aircraft seen over-flying northern Denmark as a deliberate taunt.

At the hotel, I looked at the latest report, and said, ‘Will he take Denmark – just in case we land?’

Jimmy took a moment. ‘I was just about to say that he’s not that daft, but…’

‘Fingers crossed. He’d be stretched even further.’

‘The damage we’ve inflicted is great, but not enough. So … Sykes is reporting a heat wave across Germany this year.’

‘How will that help?’

‘As we speak, all available aircraft are having incendiaries fitted, and after dark they’ll all fly off to drop those incendiaries on forests. There’s a large wooded area around Berlin, and that’s one of the principal targets.’

‘A firestorm,’ I noted.

‘Of a kind. More of a … smoke storm, since the forests won’t burn people or housing in towns. But if Berliners suffer a few days of choking smoke, it may help to point out the futility of the fight, and make them start to question their leadership.’

‘They also use logs for house fires, for industry, and train track repairs,’ I pointed out. ‘Forestry is an important industry for them.’

Jimmy nodded. ‘With a bit of luck, the crops still in the ground will burn as well, livestock killed. It all helps. Wind is blowing from the west at the moment, and many of our prop fighters will hit the forests on the Belgian border, as well as along the French border. And -’ Jimmy checked his watch. ‘- Hal and his team should be over Berlin as we speak.’

‘They … you know?’ I nudged, glancing around.

‘No, they’re there to hit the water works, and the small dams around Berlin. The Berliners will be hot this week, they’ll have smoke in their eyes, and now they’ll be thirsty. Tomorrow night will see random bombing over Berlin, so they’ll be kept awake as well; delay fuses employed. We’ve left Berlin alone for a while, so now we’ll make life very uncomfortable for them as the end nears.’

‘No response from my other self?’

‘Not yet, but I guess he has his reasons for doing … whatever he’s doing.’

Cookie approached. ‘There’s a Spiro Gotham being held by the local police down the road, says you were expecting him.’

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. ‘Have him brought up,’ Jimmy requested. ‘Thanks.’

As Cookie withdrew, I said, ‘And Susan?’

‘Has a right to know, but after we’ve spoken to him. What time is she back from Vancouver?’

‘Hour or two.’

We were stood waiting outside the hotel when or guest arrived, and I recognised myself, despite a bald plate and a goatee beard. The police were thanked and dismissed.

‘Ugly bastard,’ I offered my other self.

‘I couldn’t look like you, numb nuts.’

‘When you two have quite finished,’ Jimmy called, and led us inside. In the diner, Cookie had to look twice at the newcomer, frowning hard.

‘Pancakes, Cookie,’ my other self called.

‘Paul … he sounds just like you,’ Cookie noted.

‘He is me, another me from another world.’

‘Fuck me. Is your hair going to fall out or something, Paul?’

‘No, dumbo,’ I said. ‘He’s in disguise.’

‘Your kids will be confused,’ Cookie commented, and I could see the flash of momentary sadness in my other self’s eyes as we sat.

‘So,’ Jimmy began. ‘What the fuck you up to, Baldy?’

‘Nice to see you again too,’ Baldy quipped. ‘Actually, it’s good to see you again, Jimmy, it’s been a while since ... we buried you.’

‘You’re risking our plan here,’ Jimmy pointed out, all business. ‘Regardless of the death of Susan, the war comes first.’

‘Always on the mission,’ he commented, sighing wistfully.

‘Well?’ Jimmy pressed.

‘I came … because there’s someone else here. Not from my world, nor yours.’

‘Another traveller?’ Jimmy puzzled.

Baldy nodded. ‘When I sent Susan back we kept a micro-portal open, and waited any emergency signals. I knew how things would turn out, but … I wanted to keep an eye on her anyway. Then we noticed a blip, and investigated, but couldn’t find it afterwards. Weeks of study revealed that someone had opened a low-power portal to this world, just three seconds.’

‘Three seconds?’ Jimmy queried. ‘That’s hardly time to jump through!’

Baldy nodded. ‘But someone did.’

‘German coal-oil…’ Jimmy began.

‘Him,’ Baldy stated. ‘I’ve been working in Russia and Poland, biding my time as I tried to track the guy. I found an odd deal whereby a German refinery bought lots of cheap Polish coal, and I puzzled it. Then I found the coal-oil plant, advanced formulas being used. I’ve helped the Poles and Russians with mining equipment, and I worked with the Germans before the war so that I could move about from a base in Sweden.

‘We figured on Sweden,’ I put in.

Baldy ran a hand down his beard. ‘My adjustment to your plan ... was to try and keep the Germans out of Poland and Russia, and to make the Russians a little more commercially minded – which I’ve succeeded with. I’ve spoken to Stalin a few times.’

‘But you haven’t found the traveller?’ Jimmy asked.

Baldy shook his head. ‘I got close a few times, but he’s no fool.’

‘A German?’ I asked.

‘I couldn’t say, but he does move around a fair bit, the fella moving right around Europe and the world before the war, even a few trips to South Africa.’

‘There’re German sympathisers in South Africa,’ I noted.

‘Coal-oil plant down there now,’ Baldy responded.

‘Other than for the Germans, coal-oil isn’t need in this time,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘And no matter how efficient the process, drilled oil will still be cheaper for decades to come.’

‘I think he may have developed the technique in South Africa, before giving it to the Germans,’ Baldy stated.

‘If this guy wanted the Germans to win, then all he needed to do was to go back to an early point and give them nukes,’ Jimmy pointed out.

‘I’ve been puzzling the guy’s motives for a long time, and I keep thinking of that three-second low-power jump.’

‘They have a portal, but it doesn’t work too well?’ Jimmy puzzled with a frown. ‘They could still wait ten years, and then send him back.’

‘If they had ten years to play with,’ Baldy stated. ‘What if … his world is post-apocalyptic?’

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. Jimmy said, ‘Limited power, limited resources, and maybe overrun by The Brotherhood.’

‘So why help the Germans?’ I thought out loud.

‘This may be about him, the person, not any sponsoring government,’ Baldy told me. ‘And the three second jump suggests that he had no time to experiment. My pet theory … is that on his world the Germans won the war, but lost out decades later to The Brotherhood.’

‘There are thousands of worlds, with thousands of outcomes,’ Jimmy said with a sigh. ‘His being here may be random; he just chose the historic date, and probably figured he’d go back in time in his own world, not to a parallel world.’

‘He may not even realise that fact,’ I suggested.

‘He must be confused by you pair,’ Baldy emphasised. ‘No record of you in his past, or of Germany suffering so much!’

‘So why hasn’t he given the Germans atomic bomb theory?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Maybe he has, but maybe the guy is no scientist,’ Baldy responded. ‘Did he come through with a manual, or just himself? Besides, I still think that he came from somewhere where the Germans win, so why would he bring anything … other than a warning about The Brotherhood.’

Jimmy slowly nodded. ‘The poor fool thinks he’s on his own world.’

‘Where the names of Silo and Holton are not known!’ Baldy pointed out.

‘Question is ... can he help the Germans further?’ I posed. ‘Can he make a difference? So far, the coal-oil helps us - because we want the Germans to keep fighting. And jet engines won’t help in time.’

‘I don’t think he’s in touch with Hitler,’ Baldy offered. ‘Or they may have modified their attack plans, certainly waited till they were ready. I think coal-oil was a gift, maybe to make himself popular, or to make a few quid. And I don’t know of any link between him and jet engines.’

‘Until we grab him, we’ll not know,’ Jimmy said. ‘What are our chances of grabbing him?’

‘I’ve been trying to do that for five years,’ Baldy responded. ‘So good luck.’

‘Is he in Germany now?’ I asked.

‘I think so.’

Jimmy eased back and took a moment. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Since late 1930. And I’ve even taken a few rides on your seaplanes.’

‘Why 1930?’ Jimmy asked.

‘We only had a partial fix on when he came over, which was early 1936, but with a two year variance. I considered that I’d get here a year or so before to build up some money, and a few contacts. I have a few good lads working for me, and I made money in Europe from a few inventions. I have a good network in Poland and Russia, the one area I figured you’d not be interested in.’

‘Not bad thinking, for you two,’ Jimmy quipped. He took a moment to study Baldy. ‘You ... could have sent us a note about the Jap attack on this hotel, but you sent Susan. And you could have sent us a note about this as well.’ Jimmy waited. ‘What’s the real reason for you being here?’

‘Same as yours: to be away from there,’ Baldy admitted. ‘When the threat was known … I had a reason to follow Susan.’

‘Why send Susan at all?’ Jimmy pressed.

Baldy took a moment. ‘I knew that I’d made a mistake, to have an affair with her in secret in our time period; press were sniffing around just before I sent her back.’

‘You got rid of her?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Jimmy cut in with. ‘He spared her; her life over there would have been difficult after an affair.’

Baldy nodded. ‘I knew what the original Susan did here, does here, and … I figured she’d be very happy here.’

Jimmy said, ‘She won’t be upset to see you, but she may be upset about you not making contact for eight years!’

‘Guess she’ll be right pissed off when she meets my wife and our kids then.’

Jimmy and I both eased up. ‘You what?’ I asked.

‘They’re in Vancouver.’ Jimmy and I exchanged looks, Baldy adding, ‘I … figured I would be here a while, and I also figured - I mean I … sent someone to see if you and her were … together. After your daughter was born I decided to move on.’ He shrugged.

‘Do you still have feelings for Susan?’ Jimmy asked.

‘We had a quick fling for fuck’s sake,’ Baldy quickly responded. ‘I’ve been with Mia for five years.’

‘Did you see my messages?’ Jimmy asked.

‘We left the area before the war started, just in case; we’ve been in Los Angeles a few months. But one of my lads saw the message and recognised the alias, so he cabled me. Still, it took you long enough.’

‘I had my suspicions years ago,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘But until I found your aliases I was thinking of either an intruder like our friend, or just aberrations in the time line. I also considered that Susan had a partner in crime.’

‘Partner in crime?’ Baldy queried.

‘We knew she wasn’t who she said she was,’ I pointed out. ‘Jimmy had her pegged on day one.’

‘And yet … you had kids with her?’ Baldy queried.

‘It’s how we deal with spies,’ I quipped.

‘When did Susan reveal herself?’ Baldy asked.

‘Two nights before the Jap attack,’ Jimmy informed our guest.

‘Cutting it a bit fine,’ Baldy complained. ‘Did she tell you about Hal?’

‘Motorcycle accident,’ I said, Baldy nodding.

‘Send for your family and your people,’ Jimmy instructed. ‘We’ll find you rooms here for a while. Gang are away anyway.’

An hour later, Susan came up the stairs with the kids and our nanny, to find two very cute young blonde girls stood staring back at her.

‘Hello,’ Susan offered, the shy girls running off to Baldy and his wife. Mia was tall, white-blonde, and gorgeous; my other self hadn’t been suffering on those long Swedish nights.

Baldy eased up and stepped to Susan, Mary and Toby examining the new faces at length. ‘It’s me.’

Susan squinted at Baldy for a few seconds, and let her jaw drop. ‘You!’

‘Yep, me, and … my wife here, and my two lovely daughters … here.’

‘Wha … what are you doing here?’

‘There was a problem, and I needed to come and track someone down. Long story.’ He took a big breath. ‘Anyway, your kids are nice.’ He turned, Mia approaching. ‘Mia, this is Doctor Susan Blake, Paul’s wife.’

They shook, formal smiles exchanged.

Susan came and sat next to me, the nanny taking her coat. ‘Did you … know we had guests?’ she asked me.

‘Not till today, but Jimmy suspected that we may have guests … of this nature.’

‘Oh.’ Susan focused on the twin blonde daughters. ‘Hello, what are your names?’

‘Don’t be shy,’ Baldy encouraged, repeating it in Russian.

‘Russian, not Swedish?’ Susan queried.

‘Mia’s mother was Russian,’ Baldy pointed out. ‘We raised the girls to speak Russian and English first.’

The daughters kept looking at me oddly, as did Mia. Something about me looked familiar. Noticing, Baldy faced his wife. ‘Mia, I’ve kept a secret from you; Paul is my twin brother.’

‘My God,’ she let. ‘But why keep it a secret?’

‘Paul and Mister Silo, they … work for governments in secret, on … secret work.’

‘Is he secretive?’ I asked Mia, pointing at Baldy.

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘And I have seen you both in many magazines, especially Mister Silo.’

In perfect Russian, Jimmy said, ‘We’re better looking in the flesh, than in a black and white photograph.’

‘You speak Russian like a native?’ Mia puzzled.

‘And Chinese, and fifteen African dialects,’ I pointed out to her.

Mary sat with the two girls, on the carpet, soon chatting about the things that young girls chat about. Toby, meanwhile, just wanted to stuff his face, and ignored the visitors. Baldy went and sat next to him. ‘Pancakes, Cookie.’

Toby looked up, puzzling the voice, and the eyes. ‘You’re like dad.’

‘I’m his brother, your uncle, so you’ll get more presents at Christmas now.’

‘What presents?’ Toby excitedly asked.

‘What would you like?’

‘A bike, a big bike!’

‘I think I can arrange that, but I’ll have to talk with your mum first.’

With Baldy sat back down, and Mia taking the kids down stairs to the pool, Susan said, ‘You’ve been here a while then.’

‘Told you she’d be pissed,’ Jimmy carefully mouthed.

Baldy began, ‘I came … afterwards, and only when there was a clear threat to you and this timeline. And by then you were happily having babies.’

‘I was doing what the other Susan did originally, part of your plan!’

‘Now, now, children, don’t squabble,’ Jimmy sarcastically let out. ‘All’s well that ends well, and it’s the ending we need to be focused on, not how this got started. We’re all here now, and we can’t undo it. Well, we could, but we won’t jump about the cosmos and its timelines. Susan, there’s another traveller in this timeline, helping the Germans.’

‘Another traveller?’ Susan queried.

‘Not from any world we know of,’ I pointed out.

‘Could this person alter the timeline?’ Susan asked.

‘He’s given the fuel-starved Germans coal-oil technology and jet engines,’ I explained.

‘My God. But … but why not just give them advanced weapons?’

‘It’s a work in progress, but we think his trip here was accidental, not planned,’ Jimmy explained.

At 10pm, Baldy, Jimmy and myself were sat sipping whisky and chatting, comparing worlds and outcomes, who was doing what in which world. When the phone went, it was Sykes.

Jimmy took the call, then turned and stared hard at Baldy as he placed the receiver down, finally knocking off the scrambler. He faced Cookie. ‘Cookie! Get a paper and pen.’ Cookie made ready. ‘If there’s a Huey down here I want it, if not fly one down immediately, make that two. I’ll want a plane in the morning for a trip down to Washington or Chicago.’

Jimmy lifted the receiver again. ‘Get me Lemming Base, urgent, the airfield manager.’ He waited, Baldy and I now both curious. ‘This is Jimmy Silo, the codeword is Small Boy, I repeat, the codeword is Small Boy.’

I eased up. It was the signal to make ready for a nuclear strike.

Jimmy added, ‘Move two bombs and two aircraft to Britain, full support team. Alert the British that the planes are coming.’ Placing down the receiver, Jimmy faced me. ‘Go call the White House, tell them we need a meeting tomorrow - late afternoon, situation critical.’

I stepped away as Jimmy closed in on Baldy, who now stood.

‘What’s happened?’ my other self asked.

‘Something you should have figured by that three second jump. Your man … that idiot, left the portal on and intact. Sykes has picked up signals from Germany, details of desperate fighting going around southwest of Berlin, German soldiers fighting tens of thousands of Arabs wearing green headbands.’

‘The Brotherhood are here,’ Baldy let out.

‘They got it working … and followed him through, a few years difference maybe down to power settings.’

‘There’re a million German soldiers, The Brotherhood will be massacred,’ Baldy insisted.

‘Those German soldiers are being very effectively tied up by me … in far off places! And The Brotherhood may have brought sophisticated weapons, a tactical nuke or two.’

‘I figured his portal was in South Africa, not central Germany,’ Baldy offered, looking away.

‘Why?’

‘He has a very well-guarded estate down there with a large and well-guarded shed.’

‘It may be of significance, or just a statue of his mum,’ Jimmy scoffed.

‘He spent a year down there before he ever ventured to Germany,’ Baldy mentioned, facing away.

‘Jimmy!’ Cookie called. ‘There’s a Huey down here, just the one. Others would take half a fucking day to fly down!’

‘Have it fuelled and sent here, get a security detail organised of just lads from our era,’ Jimmy ordered. ‘And sharpish!’

‘You’ll contact your world?’

‘If The Brotherhood has control of a portal … they can go anywhere, at any time. It has to be shut down at their end, which means finding their end, or the world I saved could be destroyed.’

‘And my world,’ Baldy firmly pointed out. ‘I’ll come with you and signal my world; they need to know.’

Jimmy took a moment to study Baldy, but then finally nodded.

When I returned from my call to the White House, Jimmy brought me up to speed, the security staff assembling.

‘We’re off to Manson to make a call, you hold the fort,’ Jimmy told me. ‘If I don’t get back in time, fly down to the President and give him an “M” Group briefing. Take a laptop.’ They rushed out, and I explained the situation to Susan, who was now horrified at the turn of events.

Jimmy and Baldy met the helicopter outside the hotel, the noise of its approach waking the kids, and flew off through the night towards Manson, leaving me pacing up and down, Cookie and Sandra worried. The last thing Jimmy did before leaving was to dictate a series of messages for Cookie, a long list.

In the grey dawn half-light, Jimmy placed down this special phone and stood back. ‘Now we wait.’ He took in the Huey in the distance, worried looks exchanged with the guards.

Baldy stared into the dark. ‘Somehow, I’m doubting that the Germans will let us land heavily armed troops on their soil to fight The Brotherhood.’ He turned his head. ‘You’ll nuke the portal opening?’

Jimmy took a moment. ‘The lingering radiation may slow down The Brotherhood, but not for long. Hope would be that the nuke detonates when the portal is open - and roasts the equipment at their end. But I have another idea.’

Ten minutes later, a bright flash preceded a portal opening. Jimmy faced Baldy as they walked forwards, ‘Is that your people intercepting my signal, or my people?’

‘Doubt it’s mine, they were to intercept the one signal only – and I was over there when that happened. They should just be waiting my return signal.’

Jimmy approached the event horizon, and lifted his phone. He hit a key combination. ‘Can you hear me?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came out of the phone, although the words had not come from the scientists in view.

‘This is Jimmy Silo, and I’m declaring a planetary emergency for your world and for this world. Somehow, The Brotherhood from another world - and from its future - have found a working portal and are sending fighters into this world; they’re arriving southwest of Berlin. If they get the frequencies of any other worlds they could destroy them, they could go back in time to your past and destroy you – all of you.

‘I need every scientist we have working on a way of finding their world, their portal, and a way of blocking anyone from going into the past of your world; we need a blocking signal of some sort. I want a base of operation set up here on my second signal, a communications centre. I want ten thousand US Marines with full modern kit made ready to come through this portal, and ten thousand Kenyan Rifles through the portal in Mawlini. Paul Holton, from another world is here, and he’ll now contact his own world. After that I’ll signal again. Be ready. Collapse the portal now.’

Jimmy stood back, and two seconds later the bright view of the control room at their end disappeared. Baldy took Jimmy’s phone and sent a signal, placing it down before they stood back. Thirty minutes later, with the sun rising on what promised to be a fine day, the air cracked, US Marines soon piling out with advanced weapons – but from a position to the side of where Jimmy expected the portal’s event horizon to be.

The first officer stepped up to Baldy and saluted. ‘We intercepted the message Mister Silo sent, sir. Ten thousand hairy-arsed Marines coming through at the double, technicians to follow.’

Jimmy pointed to the edge of the field. ‘That way. Send your men that way.’ He picked up his phone and altered the setting, soon placing it back down.

Ten minutes later, and with a very long line of US Marines jogging out of the field, the portal from my world crackled open. But this time a group of technicians stepped through, immediately staring hard at the second portal, and at the US Marines as they advanced.

Jimmy pointed the other way. ‘Make a base over there, that lot are from the other-Paul’s world.’ Jimmy exchanged a look with Baldy. ‘Some of this lot are probably both here.’

‘That’ll be confusing.’

A Marines General stepped out with an entourage, approaching Jimmy and saluting. ‘General Masters.’

‘We’ve met before,’ Jimmy mentioned as they shook.

‘You have a good memory, sir,’ the General offered.

‘What’s happening on your world?’

‘Panic, because they can’t figure anyway to block the portals. They all think the best bet is to jump through it and nuke it.’

‘It may come to that,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘How much time has elapsed that side?’

‘Three days,’ the General replied, eyeing the long line of Marines streaking across the field. ‘But the Kenyan Rifles were ready in a matter of hours. Who’s … control are they under, sir?’

‘Mine,’ Jimmy firmly stated. ‘You’re all under my control, or we’ll get nowhere fast. Clear?’

‘Sir,’ the General offered, Baldy nodding.

‘Got an open comms link?’ Jimmy asked, the General handing over a phone and explaining its use and settings. ‘Computer, patch me through with President Gilchrist.’ He waited till a holographic image appeared above the phone, a realistic head-sized representation of Gilchrist.

‘Mister Silo,’ came in an unfriendly tone.

‘Mister President. I want ... I would appreciate ... you sending a diplomatic liaison team to deal with the US President of this era.’

‘You’ll expose yourself ... and the mission there?’

‘Got no choice, we need to get to The Brotherhood quickly, and we can’t do that till we’ve fought back the Germans – who won’t be cooperating any. There’s no other way. Besides, this world is less important than getting to the portal in the hands of The Brotherhood; they could destroy dozens of worlds ... and then keep going.’

‘I’ll put a team together and get back to you. They’re establishing a microwave link at your end, so we’ll be able to talk wherever you are on that world. Gilchrist out.’

The holographic image disappeared.

Jimmy said towards the phone, ‘Computer, link me to Rescue Force HQ, communications officer.’ He waited.

‘Mister Silo?’ asked a started holographic head.

‘Yes, so listen up. I want all sub-Saharan units on standby; many will go off-world in support of military operations here. I also want a large unit put together to travel to an Africa overrun by The Brotherhood, a rebuilding project of many years. I want the corporation from the Congo to put together a reconstruction team of twenty-five thousand people, all suitable to rebuild Africa after we defeat The Brotherhood. In particular, I want a German RF unit straight away, but they must be aware that they’re going into a combat zone in Germany.’

‘Bloody hell,’ the disembodied head let out.

‘As soon as you’re ready I want the African Rifles to start moving to Mawlini on this world and assembling ready.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘End call,’ Jimmy instructed, a steady stream of soldiers now filing past, the field crammed.

‘What do you want us to do, sir?’ the General asked.

‘You’re going to China and the Philippines to defeat the Japanese; I need that war wrapped up and Japan occupied so that we can turn our attentions to Europe. I’ve sent messages to the Canadian Government, so there should be a shit load of buses arriving here soon, as well as special trains. So, march your men west towards the train halt, from there to Vancouver, some to go by ship, some by plane. You, General, set your HQ up in my hotel, a town called Trophy.’

‘Sir!’ The General turned, barking orders at his men.

‘Why a big team for Africa?’ Baldy asked.

‘If the Brotherhood has overrun a world, they’ve overrun Africa, and we’ll need to take it back as a stepping stone to attack into the Middle East, as well as for its resources.’

Baldy accepted a phone from a technician, the man offering a bag full of phones for other people to use. Baldy slung the bag over his shoulder. ‘Do we wait for the political liaison team from Gilchrist?’

‘Hell, no,’ Jimmy emphasised as he led Baldy back towards the Huey. ‘We get in there first, and give them our story.’

They boarded the Huey with their bodyguards, the blades soon turning, and lifted off to an aerial view of the Marines marching off at the double.

‘The people of this timeline are in for a shock,’ Baldy noted through the headset radios.

‘A shock is something they can get over, a visit from The Brotherhood they won’t. Besides, there’s a war on, and everyone is feeling patriotic and supportive of their leadership right now. It’s not like in our day; these politicians actually care more about the people than their own ratings, and they’re trusted.’

‘That won’t last. Nixon is only twenty years away!’

2047

Lobster lowered his data-pad, and glanced out of the window, the coast of Libya now below him as he headed south towards Goma Hub on a commercial airliner. His data-pad bleeped. Touching an icon, the screen expanded to that of a secure incoming signal. He tapped in a four digit code, placing his hand flat on the screen so that it could be scanned. A face appeared.

‘Sir, you’re ... still in the air?’ a captain enquired.

‘Yes, just over the Libyan coast.’

‘There’s an emergency, Colonel, a signal from Mister Silo off-world.’

Lobster turned his head, exchanging a look with his adjutant. ‘What’s the message?’

‘The Brotherhood, sir, they’ve opened a portal to the world that he’s on.’

Lobster and his adjutant both sat upright. ‘The Brotherhood?’

‘Yes, sir. He requests ten thousand Rifles, to be sent through the portal at Mawlini as soon as possible.’

‘Alert the regiment, have them run a full kit check, cancel all exercises and bring all men back from leave. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Out.’ He touched the screen and ended the call.

‘Most of our senior officers are on this damn plane!’ the adjutant pointed out, he and Lobster now sat in civilian clothes, returning from a conference in London.

Lobster slowly nodded to himself, then eased up and past his adjutant, plenty of leg room available to move past. He walked forwards and to the forward galley. ‘I’m Colonel Nbeki, Kenyan Rifles.’

‘Yes, sir, I know your face,’ the attendant said with a warm smile.

‘There’s an emergency on the ground, I need to speak to the pilot.’

‘Of course, sir.’ The attendant buzzed the pilots, who unlocked the door.

‘Colonel, welcome,’ the Captain offered.

Lobster knelt down. ‘There’s an emergency on the ground, and I have my senior officers with me on this flight. Could we divert to Mawlini?’

‘Divert? We’d ... need to get authorisation.’

‘Mister Jimmy Silo sent a message from off-world; that place he went to is being invaded by The Brotherhood, and I need to get myself and my men to Mawlini.’

The pilot and co-pilot exchanged looks. ‘Leave it with us, Colonel.’

As Lobster withdrew, the pilot touched a screen, stating: ‘Goma Hub.’

A face appeared. ‘Morning six-two-nine, how can I help?’

‘There’s an emergency with the Kenyan Rifles, Mister Silo is in trouble off-world. Their officers are on board and request a diversion to Mawlini.’

The face could be seen typing away. ‘Change track to one-six-zero, climb to forty-three thousand, increase speed to six hundred. I’ve altered your track this end, and ... god speed.’

The pilot changed course before hitting the tannoy button. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, due to an emergency on the ground we’re now diverting to Mawlini base in Kenya. We apologise for the inconvenience this may cause. We’ll be flying higher than normal, and faster than normal, but it’s nothing to worry about. Thank you.’

1938

Rudd scanned the telegram, twice, then faced Ngomo and his men. ‘The Brotherhood have opened a portal to this world.’

‘The Brotherhood ... are here?’ Ngomo loudly questioned.

‘Arriving in Germany.’

‘Germany! They’ll arrive right into a war.’

‘That’s good, no?’ Rudd puzzled.

‘Not if they have advanced weapons it’s not,’ Ngomo stated.

A second telegram arrived. Rudd read it. ‘The Rifles from our era will arrive at Mawlini soon.’

‘Get me a plane, I’m heading up there to meet them.’

A third telegram arrived, Rudd reading it quickly. ‘Says ... you are to send them by train and plane to Tunisia, to attack Italy.’ Rudd lifted his eyes. ‘They’re going after The Brotherhood.’

‘Have to get through the Germans in Italy first,’ Ngomo realised.

‘That could take weeks or months,’ Rudd complained.

‘And by then there could be a million of The Brotherhood in Germany!’

Half an hour later, Ngomo boarded a plane at Forward Base, with his senior men.

Mac and Handy were already at Mawlini when the portal cracked open, something of a surprise for a pilot coming into land in a Super Goose. A line of Rifles started to appear, all kitted with modern laser weapons.

Mac glanced at Handy as they stood on the Apron. ‘What the fuck...’ They stepped towards the runway.

The first Rifles officer jogged over, to startled looks from pilots and engineers working on Boeings. He stopped and saluted. ‘Mac, sir, I’m Captain Nkeli, Kenyan Rifles Pathfinders.’

‘What the fuck you doing here, and in broad daylight?’ Mac complained.

‘Mister Silo requested us, sir.’

‘He did?’

‘Yes, sir. You may not have heard, not with the limited communications on this world, but The Brotherhood have opened a portal to this world. They’re invading.’

‘The Brotherhood? Here!’ Mac shouted.

‘Yes, sir. They have a portal into Germany, near Berlin.’

Mac and Handy exchanged puzzled looks. ‘Why the fuck would they attack Germany?’

‘We don’t know, sir, but there are ten thousand US Marines making ready to enter Canada as we speak.’

‘This’ll blow our cover, and right royally fuck up this timeline,’ Handy noted, a long line of Rifles now flanking them.

‘Where would you like us, sir?’

Mac scratched his stubble. ‘Well, if The Fighting is in Germany, we’ll have to get you up there. The local train halt is where you’d expect to find it in our time period, so ... get marching I guess.’

The officer saluted, leading his men off. Ten minutes later, a Rifles Colonel strode forwards, flanked by twelve bodyguards.

‘Of fuck,’ Handy let out when he saw the man.

‘Oh dear,’ Mac commented, looks exchanged.

The Colonel smiled widely and shook Mac’s hand. ‘How are you doing, Mac?’

‘Good. You?’

‘Looking forward to some action. Where is my father?’ Colonel Ngomo Junior asked.

‘He’s ... eh ... down in the Congo I think,’ Mac offered.

‘I’m sure I will see him soon,’ Ngomo Junior enthused. ‘How has he been coping these past eighteen years?’

Mac and Handy exchanged sheepish looks. ‘You know, working hard to ... raise the Rifles, to ... bring-up the young men and officers.’

‘Good, good. Are there Rifles of this time here?’

‘Yes, many of them,’ Mac answered. ‘Good lads too.’

Ngomo Junior eased forwards to a conspiratorial distance. ‘And has my mother ... anything to worry about?’

Mac and Handy placed their hands in pockets and checked their shoes, making faces. ‘Well...’ Mac began. ‘When in Vegas -’

‘When in Vegas?’ Ngomo Junior repeated.

‘Well ... we’re here for a long time, almost a hundred years,’ Mac tried to explain.

‘Long old time to be alone,’ Handy pointed out. ‘Man needs a house keeper and some company.’

‘How many?’ Ngomo Junior asked in an unfriendly tone.

‘Well ... no more than necessary,’ Mac sheepishly admitted.

‘And how many ... is that?’

‘Well ... eleven.’

‘Eleven!’ Ngomo Junior growled. He wagged a warning finger. ‘When I see him, The Brotherhood will be the least of his worries.’ He strode off, organising his men.

‘Oops,’ Mac let out, watching Ngomo’s son go.

An RAF pilot approached. ‘Who the blazes are they? And what are those strange weapons they’re carrying?’

‘Ah,’ Mac let out, a look exchanged with Handy. He sighed. ‘Fuck it. Be impossible to keep this lot secret anyway.’ Ignoring the RAF officer, Mac and Handy wandered off to send a few telegrams.

In Hong Kong, Big Paul read the telegram before showing it to Han.

‘The Brotherhood?’ Han queried.

Big Paul explained, ‘We’ve been ordered to wind this up as fast as possible; US Marines from the future coming to help out.’

‘Then we will be exposed,’ Han noted, handing the telegram over to Po.

‘We got bigger problems than exposure,’ Big Paul noted.

‘Is there a problem?’ the colony’s Governor asked, not following.

Big Paul faced him. ‘There’s good news, and there’s bad news.’

Reading his telegram, Steffan Silo diverted every possible train he could up to Mawlini, arranging extra water and food, those around him believing it to be related to the movement of soldiers.

After ten minutes spent on his balcony, taking in the bustling port of Mombasa, he stepped back inside and called a meeting of all directors and senior staff. ‘Gentlemen, there’s something you need to know, and it’ll shock you.’

Timkins, Sykes and Jack exchanged looks, issued a collective sigh, and stepped in to see Churchill, a private meeting.

‘Gentlemen, come on in,’ Churchill beckoned. ‘Perhaps someone could explain why, at this early hour, there are atomic bombs on their way here ... without my request.’

They all now sat in the War Room at No. 10. Timkins began, ‘In order to travel to this world, we used a machine called a portal. It allows us to go back in time, but also across to other parallel worlds – as you know. On many worlds, the Europeans and Americans fought a war against a group of Arabs known as The Brotherhood-’

‘I remember you mentioning them, yes,’

Timkins heaved a great sigh. ‘Prime Minister, somehow ... those Arab fighters have gained access to a portal on another world ... and are now invading this world.’

‘Invading ... this world?’

‘Yes, Prime Minister. Oddly enough, they’re arriving in Germany, southwest of Berlin.’

‘Then they might just fight our battles for us!’ Churchill noted.

‘They are ... as we speak,’ Sykes noted. ‘But once finished with the Germans ... they’ll not stop till the whole world is enslaved.’

‘Did these Arab fighters come here ... because you are here?’ Churchill demanded.

‘No, they would have had no idea,’ Sykes pointed out. ‘We believe they’re making use of a German portal from another world, a world where the Germans may have won the war, since they obviously have advanced technology. Recently, we discovered that the Germans were in possession of advanced technology to refine coal into oil, technology given to them by a German sympathiser, but a traveller like us.’

‘Coal to oil? What use is that?’ Churchill baulked.

‘In our time period, people knew that the Germans ran low on oil for their tanks and aircraft later in the war,’ Timkins explained.

‘So someone like you ... has handed them the science behind it? Why not give the Germans advanced aircraft such as we possess?’

‘We’ve been puzzling that ourselves,’ Sykes admitted. ‘We think the individual traveller that came ... he was .... not well prepared.’

‘Certainly not as well prepared as you,’ Churchill agreed. ‘Can you defeat these Arab fighters?’

‘You may need a sip of something, Prime Minister,’ Sykes suggested.

‘Meaning?’ Churchill pressed.

‘Meaning ... that dealing with them would be impossible without the people of this time period knowing about us,’ Sykes explained.

‘Ah,’ Churchill let out as he eased back.

‘As we speak, thousands of super-soldiers from our world are arriving on this world,’ Timkins explained.

‘And their purpose?’ Churchill asked with an unfriendly stare.

‘To reach the Arab fighters in Germany, we first need to move aside the German Army. No light task,’ Timkins explained.

‘Indeed no.’

‘So we aim to defeat the Germans quickly -’

‘With atomic bombs?’ Churchill asked.

‘No, hopefully not,’ Sykes put in. ‘They are ... a fall-back position.’

‘By sundown tonight, Britain will be an atomic nation,’ Churchill noted. ‘The first! The very first!’

‘Yes, Prime Minister,’ Sykes confirmed. ‘And today, we’d like to go all-out and use fuel-air explosives on German cities, to hasten their demise.’

‘Another Hamburg, gentlemen, and we shall have some awkward questions from the Press.’

‘More awkward than super-soldiers from another planet?’ Sykes pointed out.

‘Indeed not, indeed not,’ Churchill agreed. ‘What a time we live in, such wonders and potential, such dangers in the shadows.’ He shook his head.

‘May we order the bombing?’ Timkins pressed.

Churchill reluctantly nodded. ‘I fear the horse is bolting, and I am no longer able to control it.’

‘You’ll need to make the speech of your life,’ Timkins pointed out. ‘You’ll need to reveal Jimmy Silo as a time traveller, before people start asking questions about our soldiers.’

Churchill slowly nodded to himself. ‘I shall consult with the cabinet first, I owe them that. And tomorrow when I wake, it will be a new world, and a very different world.’

Sykes and Timkins exchanged looks.

2047

Lobster stepped down into the heat, his officers following, the passengers keenly getting a look at the hurried activity on the base.

NCOs at the base of the steps saluted. ‘We’ll grab your luggage, sir.’

‘Report, Sergeant.’

‘The rapid reaction companies are assembled ready, and the technicians have an open portal. The first squads have gone through, Colonel Ngomo with them.’

Lobster stopped dead. ‘And I wonder if Mister Ngomo was planning on telling the General about risking himself after he stepped through.’

The Sergeant smiled. ‘What will you be telling the General when you step through, sir?’

Lobster hid a smile. ‘As a responsible senior officer, I have no intention of stepping through, Sergeant.’

‘Of course, sir.’

1938

Back at Trophy, I met Baldy and Jimmy as they landed at the airfield. I reported, ‘I’ve alerted everyone, and asked Timkins to use fuel-air explosives against German cities. They’re meeting Churchill – well – they’ve probably met him by now.’

Jimmy and Baldy halted, Jimmy taking a moment. ‘Not much of a choice,’ Jimmy finally stated.

We walked on, and towards the tower.

‘I’ve asked for all the managers here to assemble, save them finding out from elsewhere,’ I told Jimmy.

He nodded as he walked, and directed us towards the control tower door, a few managers already assembled. The rest of the senior men took ten minutes to arrive, Ted stood with the others as we appeared on the low roof next to the control tower glass.

‘Gentlemen,’ Jimmy loudly began as I stared down at the faces of men I now looked upon as friends. ‘Today is the day that will change this planet forever.’ The managers glanced at each other, wondering what was up. ‘Some of you must have considered ... that this is to do with the special bombs now being shipped to Britain. You are all engineers and scientists, people capable of grasping new ideas and new technology when we present it to you, or nudge you in a particular direction. But you are all in for a shock.

‘Within a few days the truth will be known about who we really are. Over the years ... we have taught you, guided you, and introduced advanced technology without you questioning where the ideas came from. You have used those ideas to build marvellous aircraft, aircraft that now help to defend the world from aggression by Germany and Japan. But the ideas and the science for those aircraft did not come from me, or from my staff, they came from others. We ... simply borrowed the technology and gave it to you ahead of a time ... when you may have invented it yourself. Gentlemen of Trophy aircraft, we are time travellers, and we are not of this world.’

He let them think about it, stunned looks exchanged.

‘We came here to help you, to advance your technology so that you would fight this war ... and win it easily. America and Britain were destined to win this war, but our aim was for the war to be finished quickly, since it was destined to take six years and cost thirty millions lives.

‘Near the town of Manson is a time portal and, as we speak, thousands of super-soldiers from our world are crossing into this world; you will see them in a day or so. They are Americans, and people just like you – people with families, and they will go and fight the Japanese, bringing a quick conclusion to the war. Other soldiers from our world and our time are arriving in Africa, and will fight the Germans in Italy to bring a swift conclusion to the war – for the benefit of all of the peoples on this planet. We could bring the war to a close quicker using special bombs that we’ve developed – bombs that some of you know about, but the cost in human lives would be great. We’re about saving lives, not wasting them.

‘Gentlemen, what you see and hear in the next few days and weeks will shock you, surprise you, and may cause you a few sleepless nights. But all that you need ... is faith, faith that I will do whatever I can to bring the war to a quick conclusion, and faith that I have your best interests at heart. I would hope that - having worked with many of you for more than ten years - that you would have grown to know us, and to trust us. I now ask you to trust us, to brief the people of your sections on what I’ve just revealed, but – more importantly – that you all carry on the good work that you are doing. We still have a war to win.’

We stepped down, the men stunned, some appearing afraid. Jimmy stooped next to Ted. ‘I’ll need you to go talk to the newspapers in Vancouver and Seattle and explain some of that. Can you do that for me?’

‘Uh ... sure.’

‘We’re off to see the US President, so we’ll catch up with you in a day or so.’

We left Ted stood rigidly shocked, and boarded our plane, soon heading towards Washington.

In Manson, the townsfolk were out, staring at the strange soldiers – many of whom were black, some even Asian or Hispanic. Buses were loaded, soon setting off west, the local Deputy puzzled and concerned, but seriously out-gunned. When he stopped a group of soldiers, they simply said that they worked for Mister Silo, and that did the trick.

In Hong Kong, Big Paul emptied the hidden armouries of weapons, issuing them to either the British - or sending them up the Han corridor for Mao, some forty thousand AK47s and enough ammo not just to start a war, but to end a war.

As we flew across the Rockies and headed southeast, our heavy bombers in Britain were taking off, each loaded with four fuel-air explosives, the weather conditions over Germany perfect today. They climbed to the east with fighter escort, a brazen daylight raid planned, the remainder of the RAF thrown into the skies over Belgium and France, every plane that could operate. East of the Antwerp Pocket, the German positions were pounded, isolated vehicles strafed, Spitfires overhead to deal with the Luftwaffe.

Part of the Luftwaffe’s available serviceable fleet was now over Berlin, strafing The Brotherhood south and west of Berlin as Arab fighters spread out. The fighting was intense, The Brotherhood’s fighters well armed with AK47s and RPGs. German units had been brought back to deal with this unusual threat, the German High Command puzzled as to just who they were fighting. Black American paratroopers had been consider, especially after the blacks seen in Italy, but these were Arabs, wearing green scarfs with Arab writing, those wounded and captured speaking Arabic and no other language.

Few had been taken alive, the Germans falling back as the Arabs gained footholds in residential and industrial areas, their tactics like nothing ever seen. Thousands of German soldiers had died as they approached the men with green scarfs, the strangers kneeling down, hands in the air and surrendering with white flags. Those Germans approaching the fighters would be killed or maimed in the resulting blasts as explosive belts were detonated. It had taken many days, but the Germans now knew not to approach the Arabs, but to shoot. The Arabs had then changed their own tactics, and hid in drains, waiting for soldiers to walk by before detonating belts. German soldiers would even find the Arabs launching themselves off roofs, grenades in hand, pins pulled.

The southwest of Berlin had been evacuated, large parts of it now ablaze. The smoke of burning forests wasn’t helping either, and we had unwittingly assisted The Brotherhood. Under the cover of that thick smoke, the Arabs had snuck out, killing hot and thirsty – and now surprised - Berliners.

As we crossed Denver, Essen was already ablaze in four places, Munich burning, Dortmund reduced to rubble, the first bombs having landed on the outskirts of Berlin itself. Hitting the area around the portal itself had been considered, but we dare not damage the portal at their end; we needed it intact to know where else they may have sent people to. That was now the sole focus of Jimmy, to the detriment of everything else. He needed to know if they had command of the portal, or if they knew how to programme it, and he would have sacrificed this world to find out.

The US President read a note handed to him. When ready, he lifted his gaze to his assembled Cabinet. ‘Vancouver Radio is reporting ... that ... Jimmy Silo admits to being a ... a time traveller.’

People sat up. ‘Time ... traveller?’

‘Says he brought us advanced weapons to fight the war – from the future,’ the President read. He faced a General. ‘Could those odd reports we got from our atomic scientists actually be true?’

A General put in, ‘My people swear blind that something’s not right up there. Calculations that should take weeks are done in an hour, and always correct first time.’

‘Could just be a smart bunch of people,’ the President suggested.

‘We’ll know soon enough,’ the Chief of Staff pointed out.

An aide rushed in. ‘Mister President, two jet bombers and two atomic bombs have been sent to Britain.’

The President stiffened. ‘We have an agreement in place; they can’t be moved without our consent.’ He faced his staff. ‘Maybe this why Silo is coming down.’

By time we landed in Washington, sixteen German cities were ablaze, firestorms breaking out in a few where light winds fanned the flames. Casualties on the ground here high, very high, something we had discussed as we descended into our own airfield in Washington. The President and his team came out to meet us, the President planning on flying to the west coast afterwards. We met aboard his Presidential aircraft, the meeting room a bit cramped with us all in, the Chief of Staff puzzling my twin brother. Sat opposite us was the President, his Chief of Staff, Secretary of State and four Generals.

The President opened with, ‘I guess this meeting is, in part, to explain why atomic bombs were sent to Britain?’

‘Partly,’ Jimmy answered.

‘And we understand from our liaison in Britain that they’ve launched an all-out attack on German cities using your fancy bombs, the ones that cause firestorms.’

‘It was, unfortunately, necessary,’ Jimmy explained. He took a moment, studying the faces opposite, making them anticipate his next words. ‘There is no easy way to explain the situation, so you’ll just have to listen and understand, and age a little. We ... are not who you think we are, we’re not even from this planet.’

They sat up, and aged a little, knowing glances exchanged.

Jimmy continued, ‘You have, on occasion, puzzled the fancy technology that your people could never fathom. That technology ... we brought with us; we’re time travellers.’

‘Time ... travellers?’ the President repeated.

‘We’re from the future,’ I put in, the Generals now appearing horrified.

Jimmy began, ‘We came here to assist you, to help you win this war quickly,’ Jimmy explained. ‘We knew it would take six years and cost thirty million lives if we didn’t.’ They stared back. Jimmy continued, ‘But this war is only part of the story. We’ve been here since 1920, making money inventing things, digging up gold where we knew it was buried, drilling oil where we knew it would be found. We are far richer than you could ever imagine.

‘This war ... is just one war that you’ll face in the future, and some of those wars will involve atomic bombs. Hundreds of millions of people may die. That’s not factoring in some very nasty diseases that break out and kill millions of people. The future, Mister President, is not a smooth road. And, at some stage, the people of this world may suffer a great natural disaster, after which an army will rise in Arabia, and army that will sweep Europe and the world, destroying everything ... that those who follow you will build. That army ... is known as The Brotherhood.’

The President sipped his water. ‘I’m mindful of the fact, Mister Silo, that you’re admitting all this now. Today.’

‘Yes, Mister President, today. Because today, as we speak, an army of super-soldiers from the future are arriving on this world.’

The Generals were even more horrified. ‘An invasion,’ one stated.

‘They’re US Marines,’ I put in.

‘US ... Marines?’ the General puzzled.

‘Yes,’ Jimmy confirmed. ‘They look like you, talk like you, chew gum and watch the ball game. Soon, within a day or two, a political liaison team from our world will come to you, to explain everything and act as ... well, liaisons.’

‘You said ... your world,’ the President puzzled.

‘A few years from now your own scientists, people like Einstein, will theorise about parallel worlds, worlds just like this ... but with slight differences. On one of those worlds the Germans won the war, and that leads us to our next problem, and the biggest problem.’

Others started to sip their water. All in all, I figured that they were taking it well so far.

Jimmy explained, ‘Our soldiers, both American and African, are here to partly help you speed up the wars with Japan and Germany, but partly to fight The Brotherhood.’

‘These ... Arabs in our future?’ the Chief of Staff puzzled.

‘On another world ... somewhere ... those Arabs have gotten hold of a machine, a machine like the one we used to come here.’

‘They’re coming here?’ the President asked with a heavy frown.

‘They’re already here,’ I put in. ‘They’ve used their machine to open a window and send fighters into Germany.’

‘Germany?’ the President puzzled. ‘To help the Germans against us?’

‘No,’ Jimmy answered. ‘As we speak the Arabs are fighting the Germans, and winning.’

‘The Germans have a large army -’ a General began.

‘Which is tied up fighting us,’ Baldy cut in with.

‘You look a great deal like Mister Holton,’ the President noted. ‘Did you say ... a twin brother?’

‘I’m him, but from a parallel world,’ Baldy tried to explain. ‘We’re identical apart from the hair, which I cut for disguise.’

They blinked, shook their heads, and tried to make some sense of that.

Jimmy continued, ‘Once the Arabs have finished fighting the Germans, they’ll turn their attentions towards others. And Mister President, they probably have weapons from the future with them.’

‘My God,’ the President let out. ‘Time travel, parallel worlds. On any other day this would all seem ludicrous, but right now we have atomic bombs heading towards Britain, the remainder under your control, so I don’t dare call you crazy. Besides, we had a hint about you, have done for months. I just wish I’d paid more attention to a few very strange reports.’

‘From your scientists at Lemming Base,’ I suggested.

‘Yes, they’ve been very suspicious of you, sending in many reports, all confirmed today,’ the President explained. ‘These ... soldiers from the future, these Marines -’

‘Will stop and salute you when they see you, and follow your orders,’ Baldy stated. ‘They’re Americans, they have families, and they want to go home at the end of it. We’ll send them to China, and they’ll cut-up the Japs very quickly, reducing your casualties, and the length of the war. And then, they’ll turn their attentions to the Arabs, or go home.’

‘Fly back with us, meet them, inspect their advanced weapons,’ I quickly suggested. ‘We have nothing to hide, and you have nothing to fear.’

The President faced a General. ‘Go back with them, after this meeting.’ He faced Jimmy. ‘The reaction to all this from the public-’

‘It’s too late to make plans, the news will be out by tomorrow, right across the world,’ Jimmy explained. ‘I’ll make speeches, I’ll back you up, and I’ll reassure the public about us – which is something I’ve done many times before.’

‘He’s coming up to three hundred years old,’ Baldy mentioned.

‘Three ... hundred years old?’ the President asked, taking off his glasses to clean them.

Jimmy took a moment. ‘The soldiers, and the support staff in Manson, have vials of drugs, drugs from the future. We’ve been using them to inject your soldiers.’

‘God damn,’ A General let out. ‘We’ve been puzzling their health and fitness for months. I have a report on my desk suggesting that there’s something odd about them.’

‘They’re immune to every disease, and will live a lot longer,’ I explained. ‘And ... if we were to inject you, you’d live to be a hundred and fifty in great health.’

The President stared at me for many seconds. ‘You ... brought us cures for diseases? From the future?’

‘Yes,’ I confirmed. ‘Cures for most everything apart from earthquakes, financial depressions, wars, and certain viruses. The future ... is not such a nice place to visit. This war you’re fighting now, this is kids stuff compared to what lies ahead for you.’

‘You’ll tell us what lies ahead?’ a General asked.

‘We’ll do better than that, General,’ Jimmy responded with a smile. ‘We’ll be there with you every step of the way.’

‘He’s been to many worlds, and he fixed my world,’ I reported.

‘Your world?’ the President puzzled.

‘Slightly different to this world,’ I explained. ‘The world that Jimmy originally came from was destroyed in a war using atomic bombs, after which the Arabs took over.’

‘Who ... who was the war fought between?’ the President asked.

‘America and Russia,’ Jimmy explained. ‘You’ll both end up with thousands of atomic bombs.’

‘Thousands of atom bombs?’ a General asked. ‘Why? What’s the point? We’d just destroy each other.’

‘A question that was asked many times on my world,’ Jimmy said, sighing. ‘Yet you must keep parity with your enemies, and accidents happen, accidents that lead to wars, wars that kill hundreds of millions of people in a matter of days.’

‘Then we should do something about Russia now,’ a General stated.

‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘Kill them all, invade a vast country like that and keep your soldiers there for the next hundred years?’

‘There’s no easy answer ... once the atomic genie is out of the bottle,’ the President noted. ‘I see now why you warned us so much about their use. One thing leads to another, and ultimately to an escalation, finally to their use – with the obvious results.’ He turned his head to his Chief of Staff. ‘Cancel all my appointments for the next few days.’ The man stepped out.

The President faced Jimmy, and took a moment. ‘I no longer feel in control of much, and I was a little concerned at the influence you held over us at the start of the war. I like it even less now.’

‘That’s a disappointment,’ I noted.

‘What is?’ the President asked.

‘You. I figured ... you’d care more about saving the planet than your own nation, and more about your own nation than your own political career.’

He didn’t like that comment, at all, taking time to sip his water. ‘Being from the future, you know how the history books record my time in office.’

‘That chapter hasn’t been written yet,’ Jimmy emphasised. ‘How it turns out ... is down to you. You know, sometimes I try and picture a bench full of dead people sat watching me, the ghosts of those I failed to save. Even when alone with my own thoughts, no one to record what I say or do, I try and imagine them. That way, I usually end up doing what’s best, and I haven’t thought about what’s best for me personally for ... oh, about three hundred years. Still, it’s a nice feeling, to be focused on saving others rather than being introspective. I focus less on my own faults, and concentrate on saving as many others as I can. It also helps me sleep, even when I see the faces of the dead next to my bed.

‘You may argue that we’ve taken control from you, from the war. But our aim is to shorten that war, whether you want to stand on your own two feet or not. And now we’ll end the war for you - directly, saving many lives, lives of brave young American boys who could be back home raising families instead of dying alone in some hellish swamp. You may want control back, but I won’t let you, because I represent the young men who want to live on instead of dying. They voted for me from the grave, and I came back through time to save them. So you, Mister President, and you Generals, have to consider what’s more important. Thirty million lives, or your right to govern this country and fight this war the way you want it fought.’

They glanced at each other.

‘If anyone else lectured me like that...’ the President began. ‘Three hundred years old.’ He took a moment. ‘We’ll be following you back to Canada, all of us.’

‘You could even step across to our world and have a look around,’ Baldy suggested. ‘Or send some of your Generals.’

‘That’s possible?’ they queried.

‘You could spend a month there, yet come back here an hour after you left,’ Baldy pointed out. ‘Time is relative.’

‘In Canada, you can meet liaisons from the US President on our world,’ Jimmy offered. ‘They should be there soon.’

‘And the politicians on your world -’ the President began.

‘Still argue like children,’ Jimmy cut in with. ‘Which is why people like myself and Paul work around them. Politics will never change, and a million years from now politicians will still be trying to sell their souls for a few more votes. That’s human nature. Still, things are much better in our time period; wars are rare, very rare. People cooperate with each other.’ Jimmy stood. ‘We’d best make a start. Baldy, stay on this aircraft and answer any questions the President may have.’

Three aircraft set off for Canada, for Trophy, Baldy sat with the President.

Hitler

Hal read the report, made a call to enquire about the weather, and then “made a call”. He faced Hacker. ‘We go.’

‘And the smoke?’ Hacker queried.

‘Wind has changed direction; central Berlin is mostly clear according to the bomber pilots.’

‘Who dropped fuel-air explosives, making a shit load more smoke!’ Hacker complained.

‘If the target is covered ... it’s a nice day out. Stop whining.’

They clambered up into the cockpit of their F15, ground crews strapping them in, all the while unaware of events in Germany and elsewhere. Six aircraft took off from RAF Lossiemouth in Scotland, each carrying three special bombs, all soon heading east over the North Sea, navigation double-checked at the Danish coast.

An hour later they noticed the smoke from Berlin, that smoke now climbing high instead of being blown across the city.

‘That smoke will mask our approach,’ Hacker noted. ‘Could get lower, making use of it.’

Hal transmitted, ‘This is Hal, follow me south and around. With a bit of luck, we can emerge from the smoke in the right spot and adjust our paths from there.’

A great deal of planning had gone into this mission, Hal and the pilots spending many hours in a hangar at Lossiemouth, a large-scale picture of Berlin painted onto the concrete floor, a gantry placed over it that could be moved up and down, left to right. They each sat on the gantry for hours, studying the bird’s-eye view of Berlin till they could find the right bar when drunk, at night, and from ten thousand feet.

The Kenyan scientists had come up with the idea, and had indicated where Hitler’s bunker was vulnerable. Actually, the bunker itself wasn’t vulnerable, but access to it was. They figured that if bombs, bunker buster bombs made from the special alloy, hit the right spot, that the access tunnels could be collapsed. It would take a week or two to dig the Fuhrer out, at which time he may have run out of water, food or air. Either way, it would certainly piss him off.

Momentum was secondary to accuracy for this mission, and for these particular bombs. They had to hit the right spot, or be close to it. Old diagrams of the Chancellery and the bunker, held on the scientist’s laptop, had been used to find weak spots. But those weak spots were little more than fifteen feet wide in places, so accuracy was the key, all aircraft today aiming their bombs at just the one target. Still, it was a long shot.

Hacker read out the numbers - altitude and speed, Hal throttling back as he descended through the partial smoke cover. Lined up with several major city features, Hal adjusted his course, flaps down, final adjustments made. Hal was happy enough, but more keen than confident, and at nine thousand feet screamed, just missing a flight of 190s by ten yards.

‘Fuck!’ Hacker shouted from the rear, twisting his head around to see the formation of 190s caught in their wake and breaking formation.

‘Did we scare them?’ Hal asked.

‘Scared a few people in here!’ Hacker complained.

‘Get back on the clock, we’ve got thirty seconds.’

Hacker read off speed, altitude and settings as Hal made small adjustments to his approach, now almost vertical, their speed increasing. ‘Eight thousand, speed six hundred. Seven five, speed six ten. Seven thousand, speed six-fifty.’

‘On target, throttling back, full flaps.’

‘Speed six hundred, six thousand five ... standby. Six thousand ... five fifty ... steady ... bomb gone.’

Hal pulled back on the stick, closed the flaps and throttled forwards, a gentle climb, but high ‘g’ none the less. He pressed the transmit button, ‘OK number two, all yours.’

The second aircraft didn’t need to worry about smoke from the first bomb exploding, since that bomb – along with the others, were all fitted with delayed fuses. The hope was that the bombs would all be dropped in sequence, without smoke from one blinding further bomb runs, but more than that they had all been fitted with advanced and expensive timers, and all had been armed at the exact same moment before even being loaded onto the aircraft in this flight.

Twenty minutes later, after circling high, Hal made his second run, one of the flight breaking off to scatter 190s that were getting a bit too close. That pilot had dropped both remaining bombs so that he could manoeuvre, those bombs landing at random spots around Berlin and burying themselves.

After an hour over Berlin - flack fired up and fighters aplenty trying to get an angle, Hal led his flight away, low and fast. ‘They’ve got five minutes to dig up those bombs,’ Hal suggested after checking his watch.

‘He may not even be there,’ Hacker complained.

‘The code-breakers say he’s there today, and the air-raid sirens should have gone off when they saw us.’

‘You think he felt the impacts?’

‘Bound to, heavy old bombs, and they hit fast.’

‘We might not know for years what happened,’ Hacker complained as the flight headed home. ‘Be reading about it years from now.’

‘Code-breakers should know if he was injured or trapped,’ Hal assured Hacker.

Landing back in Scotland, the CO informed Hal and Hacker of the large scale bombing of German cities, firestorms created in many. Surprised by the move, Hal sent us a telegram, Cookie sending back a coded message. Clarification was requested twice.

After some debate, Hal and Hacker got their team together, and called in the senior RAF officers for the base. ‘Guys,’ Hal called. ‘Things have happened, here in Britain with the bombing of German cities, and ... things have happened in Canada. Most of you are aware of the very secret atomic bombs that we’ve been developing. Well, two of them have been flown here, ready to use on Germany if necessary.’

The RAF base commander was unaware, but had been briefed on the bombs.

Hal continued, ‘Well, there’s something else you need to know, because Jimmy Silo has gone public with some information.’

‘Silo has gone public with the bombs?’ the RAF commander asked. ‘To force a German surrender?’

‘No, he’s gone public about who we really are.’

‘Who you are?’ they puzzled.

‘You’ll find out officially in the fullness of time,’ Hal began, ‘but we still have a war to fight, and we don’t need any distractions – or stupid questions. So,’ he took a big breath, a look exchanged with Hacker. ‘Here’s the thing. Hacker and myself, Jimmy Silo and his team, we’re all time travellers. We’re from the year 2047.’ The men exchanged looks. ‘Those planes outside, they weren’t due to be invented till around the year 1980, forty years from now.’

‘I knew it,’ a pilot said, snapping his fingers and pointing. ‘Rocket planes and atomic bombs.’

Hal stepped closer to the RAF commander, who was looking a bit lost. ‘We came back to this year, from the future, to help you fight the war. That’s why we invented all the special planes and weapons.’

‘You mean ... we would have lost the war?’

‘No, you would have won,’ Hacker put in. ‘But it would have taken five years and cost thirty million people.’

‘There’s a bit more to it than that,’ Hal tried to explain. ‘And I’m sure that your Mister Churchill will make a speech about it at some point. In the meantime, guys, we’ve still got to win this war.’

Leaving the men to discuss this turn of events, Hal and Hacker headed for the Officer’s Mess, and a bath.

‘Should we tell them about The Brotherhood?’ Hacker whispered.

‘Not till I speak to Jimmy on the phone.’

‘Jesus, this timeline is so screwed.’

‘Just think what would have happened if we weren’t here, and The Brotherhood opened that portal.’

‘This lot would be fighting them off with bolt action rifles and bayonets!’ They exchanged a look.

Ngomo stepped down from the plane with his men, having landed at the end of the runway at Mawlini, the edges of the runway now lined with soldiers jogging towards the distant train halt. A jeep came around and fetched him, Mac driving.

Once aboard, Mac Said, ‘Your ... er ... lad is here.’

‘Joshua is here?’ Ngomo queried as they drove towards a set of large tents.

‘Colonel Joshua Ngomo, head of the Pathfinders. Looks like you as well, just as ugly.’

‘Has he ... said anything?’

‘Well...’

‘Mac?’

‘He asked how you were, were you eating properly, getting enough sleep -’

‘Mac!’

‘He ... may have asked about your marital status here.’

‘And?’

‘I didn’t tell him, but someone did.’

Ngomo faced forwards, staring ahead. ‘He is fond of his mother.’

‘I’m sure he’ll understand,’ Mac began, getting glared at by Ngomo.

They screeched to a halt outside a tent, modern era Rifles stamping to attention. They ducked inside to the darkened and cool interior, Colonel Ngomo poring over a map with his aides, including Lobster. The men and officers stamped to attention and saluted Ngomo, all except Ngomo’s son.

Ngomo Snr acknowledged the men with nods, and approached the table. ‘Report.’

Colonel Ngomo Jnr took a moment. ‘We’re moving the men towards the train halt, as many as we can by plane up to Tunisia, or direct to Southern Italy.’

‘And their orders, when they reach Italy?’ Ngomo requested.

‘To kill Germans, to try and avoid killing Italians and civilians, and to advance north as fast as possible, no consolidation considered.’

Ngomo nodded. ‘Good. Drones?’

‘Over Italy as we speak, comms up with Canada, sir,’ a junior officer reported.

‘And the US Marines?’

‘Heading for China,’ Colonel Ngomo stated, carefully eyeing his father.

Part 8B