Ngomo took a moment. Making firm eye contact with his son, he said, ‘Let’s talk outside, Colonel.’ Father and son stepped outside, and onto the sand, away from the tent. ‘So, how’s your mother?’

‘Expecting your return to her,’ came back.

‘Your mother and I ... have been together for a very long time, you know that. And, over the years, we drifted apart a little. But we stayed together because it would cause a scandal if we parted, the price you pay for fame.’

‘What has happened here will be in eBook format in weeks,’ Ngomo’s son testily pointed out.

‘I wasn’t planning on returning for a very long time, and then-’

‘And then what? You’d leave your new family behind?’

Ngomo stopped and faced his son. ‘You mother is not an invalid, she has everything she wants and needs, waited on hand and foot.’ Joshua looked away, across the bustling camp. ‘And you’re not a child anymore, you don’t need our support. And twenty years from now, you and Ikumi will find relations strained, and maybe you’ll go your separate ways. I stayed with your mother for political reasons; you may not have that excuse. Don’t judge me till you reach that point, and that decision time. Because when you do get there ... you’ll find your own son asking questions.’

We arrived at the airfield in Trophy just after dawn, radioing ahead to arrange extra security. Three aircraft touched down without incident, Baldy having briefed the President and his group as much as he could on the long flight up here.

Stepping down into a light breeze, we walked towards the tower, and towards a line of grey figures, Marines stood like statues in front of the tower, sixty of them.

Jimmy approached the General we had met in Manson, a Colonel at his side. ‘Report.’

‘HQ set up at the hotel, sir, comms working, and the first aircraft full of Marines took off a few hours ago. We’ve secured the factories as well, sir.’

‘Good,’ Jimmy commended.

The Colonel stepped towards me and saluted. ‘I’m from your world, Mister Holton.’

‘How many Marines are here now?’ I asked.

‘About three thousand on the ground so far, more queued up,’ the Colonel reported. ‘And we have a comms unit in Manson. They’ve launched aerial drones towards Japan and China.’

‘They have the range?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Solar powered, sir. Not fast, but they’ll get there.’

‘Good,’ Jimmy commended, turning to see the President’s party walking forwards, Baldy with them. When they drew near, the General called his men to attention, he and the Colonel saluting.

The President halted, studying the strange uniforms and weapons.

‘Honour to meet you, sir,’ the General offered.

‘And who do you take orders from?’ the President asked, his Generals looking over the Marines, and looking most put-out by it all.

‘I report to the Joint Chiefs on my world, sir, but Mister Silo has field command here.’

‘And if I gave you an order?’ the President posed.

‘Would depend on the order, sir, and whether or not in contradicted my existing orders.’

‘Which are?’

‘To assist Mister Silo, and to seek out and destroy The Brotherhood wherever they may be, sir.’

The President slowly nodded to himself. ‘And these strange rifles?’

‘Lasers, sir. They fire light beams, accurate to four miles, and you’d get a million discharges from them.’

Jimmy pointed at a Marine. ‘Marine, front and centre.’ The man rushed over. ‘See that windsock?’

The Marine turned. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Cut it down.’

The Marine lifted his rifle, made several adjustments with his thumb, and sliced the windsock pole in half, returning to being at attention afterwards.

Jimmy ordered, ‘Hold the weapon so that the President can see through it.’ The Marine did so, Jimmy ordering other Marines to demonstrate to the Generals, who were all very keen to have a go. Several shots were fired towards what was left of the windsock pole.

‘It magnifies like a telescope,’ the President noted as he handed back the rifle. ‘And these men, all injected with this special drug?’

‘Yes, sir,’ the General reported. ‘They’re just about indestructible.’

A line of Marines heading for a Super Goose caught the Presidents attention. ‘Where are they heading off to?’

‘China, sir,’ the Colonel reported. ‘Manchuria. They’ll start a front against the Japanese and wear them down quickly.’

‘Shall we move to the hotel?’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Get some food on?’

The President nodded, Generals handing back weapons, soon a convoy of cars and buses heading to the hotel.

The outside of the hotel was now ringed by Marines, our usual security still at the door. In the downstairs restaurant we found the General’s busy HQ, laptops and holographic images flashing, thirty officers buzzing about, all talking at once. They halted for the President, called to attention, but told to carry on by the President himself. The Generals from this era immediately started asking questions of men and logistics, examining bits of kit as the President and his aides sat. We sat next to him, an officer taking orders for food and drink.

The President faced Jimmy. ‘Your associate, Mister Holton from afar, has been filling us in on much of the detail.’ He took a moment. ‘You made six attempts to get it right, over three hundred years, but you didn’t give up.’

Jimmy took a moment. ‘I sometimes think ... that I got used to the fight, and that once started just didn’t want to admit defeat. You get used to things.’

‘A bit like being a President,’ our guest noted. ‘Once started, none wish it to end, and there’s always more to do. You go to bed each evening wondering if you did enough, and if you did the right thing.’

Jimmy smiled and nodded. ‘I guess our career choices are similar.’

‘But you never quit, even after three hundred years and many failures.’

‘We learn from our failures,’ Jimmy pointed out.

‘Some might argue ... that choice is taken away from them, especially political choice,’ the President posed. ‘And I know that you’ve clashed with my counterparts on many worlds.’

‘The choice between raising taxes or lowering them is a political choice, but when it comes to a disaster such as an earthquake ... your choices are limited, well-meaning or not. And your political choices, well-meaning in regard to those you represent, may affect others. When the elephant that is America changes direction, smaller animals get pushed aside or squashed. Someone has to look out for them, as well as the elephant.’

The President accepted a coffee and some cake. ‘I gather, from your associate, that the communists now rising in China will be a problem in years to come.’

‘Less so now, since we know their likely course, and outgun them a million to one. But that issue, and the issues of this war, are less important than what might happen if we don’t get to The Brotherhood and stop them. It may be the case that they’re using the portal without fully understanding it, but if they do get a grip of it then hundreds of worlds would be at risk. This is one world ... out of many, and they’re all people, just like us. And if The Brotherhood did learn how to use the portal, they could go back to 1850 with advanced weapons, and kill everyone here. You, sir, will have never been born, and will disappear in the blink of an eye.’

I eased forwards. ‘You’re the President, there to protect those who voted you into office. Get this wrong ... and every last voter will be killed, by never having been born in the first place. America, as a country, will cease to exist.’

The President sipped his coffee. ‘You have me sufficiently scared, and concerned, Mister Holton. In fact, I’ve been scared and concerned since we met yesterday. So I guess I’m going to have to have faith in you and your people whether I like it or not.’ He faced Jimmy. ‘And your plan of action?’

‘The Marines you see here will mostly go to fight the Japanese, to end that conflict quickly ... and with minimum casualties on your side. The war with Japan won’t affect what we need to do in Germany, but it would have been unwise to leave that war going whilst our soldiers were ending the European war quickly. Besides, your army may be needed against The Brotherhood. I’ll arrange trains for the Marines to reach Nova Scotia, but I’ll need a few ships and escorts from you to get them to Britain. From there they’ll attack the Germans – if the war drags on.’

Cookie brought down a telegram and handed it to Jimmy. Jimmy read, ‘Today we hit Hitler’s bunker directly. For all we know he’s dead – and buried.’

A Marine Captain approached. ‘Sir, we have high altitude images over Germany available now.’

‘Firestorms?’ I asked.

‘At least ten large plumes from various cities, sir.’

‘Bring a screen over,’ Jimmy requested, soon showing the President real-time images of Germany. He zoomed in on Berlin, right down to the point where we could see grainy images of men digging around the back of the Chancellery building. ‘That’s Hitler’s bunker.’

‘They’re digging frantically,’ the President noted. ‘So I guess someone was inside it when it was bombed.’

‘If senior staff were killed,’ Jimmy began, ‘it’ll disrupt them.’

‘They may sue for peace,’ Baldy put in. ‘An Army General may take over ... and think twice about the war.’

‘It’s a possibility,’ Jimmy agreed.

I turned my head, to see a group of men in smart suits lugging heavy bags. They dumped their bags on tables and came over.

‘Mister President, I’m Vice President Johnson, your liaison to our administration,’ the Vice President said with a supercilious smile. They shook as we all stood, handshakes and welcomes exchanged.

‘Planning on staying long?’ Baldy coyly asked the Vice President. ‘Man of your high office?’

‘A week or two,’ the VP answered. ‘After that, a full-time team will be available since ... it’s out in the open now.’

‘Available ... to do what?’ the President asked.

The Vice President hesitated, but forced his silly smile. ‘To ... assist with war, to remove The Brotherhood here, and then ... general advice on what lies ahead.’

‘I see,’ the President said, reclaiming his coffee. ‘I gather, from talking with Mister Holton the twin, that Mister Silo doesn’t always ... see eye to eye with our administrations.’

‘Well, sometimes we differ on policy, of course. But we were elected to do a specific job, Mister Silo’s position is ... more of a calling; un-elected high office.’

I was trying not to grin at the man’s discomfort; Jimmy was staring directly at him.

‘And how do you think,’ the President began, ‘we should deal with the Chinese communists and the future Russian threat I’ve been hearing about?’

Jimmy’s presence was starting to have an effect on the VP. The VP said, ‘Obviously, we have no wish to be seen to be to be taking sides in these matters, beyond the obvious desire to see a peaceful historical path taken.’

Jimmy said, lowering his gaze, ‘I was planning on allowing China and Russia to grow to the point where they could counter-balance future American excesses.’

The American liaison team now knew that they were in dangerous waters, and that there was no easy answer to any of this. They were American, and obviously keen to help the present day administration, but they also knew that the people back on my world would crucify them if they did.

The President waited, facing Jimmy. Jimmy lifted his gaze to the VP. ‘People like myself, people with power and influence - and a great deal of experience of developing nations, can do things that elected officials like you can’t. I ... can get away with interfering. You ... would be strung up by the Chinese and Russians back on your world, who will be watching events closely.’

The President asked, ‘And do the Russians and Chinese on your world ... trust you to make the right call?’

‘Implicitly,’ I put in, echoed by Baldy. ‘All nations do, save the current US administration.’

‘And previous US administrations,’ Baldy added, a smile exchanged with me.

‘And, after the war, if we asked you all to leave?’ the President posed.

‘I’d consider you a very poor President, as well as a very poor human being,’ Jimmy calmly stated. The President stared at him over the rims of his glasses. ‘I didn’t take the decision to come here lightly, or for my own benefit. Ahead of you are earthquakes and plagues that kill hundreds of millions of people, and without guidance you may go the same way as many other versions of this history – bumbling into an atomic war.

‘You represent one nation out of many, and you don’t speak for them all. And, if you were in my way, I’d remove you without a second thought.’ He stared back. ‘I will stop the wars, I will give your doctors the antidote to the plagues, I will warn you when earthquakes are about to strike, and I will guide other nations away from conflict. Is that ... reasonably clear, Mister President?’

The current VP cut in with, ‘My administration would like to distance itself from those comments, and accept no responsibility for anything that Mister Silo and his team may do.’

The President cleaned his glasses. Facing the VP, he said, ‘I think you and I alike ... could learn something about convictions from Mister Silo.’ He placed on his glasses. ‘My administration will be taking advice from Mister Silo, but we welcome whatever input your administration has to offer.’

The VP and his team seemed a little put out. Jimmy said to the President, ‘I requested a liaison team, and I think they have a role to play, not least on briefing you about the time portals – which will remain locked-open for some time. They can advise on practicalities, such as immunisation for certain diseases, and even simple things such as the names of future serial killers.’

‘I see. Men ... tried and judged in advance,’ the President noted.

‘You could just wait for them to kill a string of young girls,’ I put in.

‘It would seem that there are some very practical benefits to knowing the future,’ the President admitted.

‘Such as collapsing bridges and dams,’ Baldy added. ‘Things like that don’t affect your politics, they just save you making a big mistake – and losing lives.’

‘You’ll need to make a speech from Seattle,’ Jimmy encouraged the President. ‘The word is spreading about who we are, so you’ll need to calm the nation. I’ll address your nation a day later.’

‘And may we see that particular speech in advance?’ the President asked.

‘I don’t write speeches, I stand up and tell the truth,’ Jimmy stated.

‘Flawlessly,’ I commented.

‘He’s had some practise,’ Baldy added.

‘Send us a liaison team of political aides and military staff,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Send them here and we’ll coordinate everything we do. Oh, and we have a few phones for you that will connect you to me wherever I am in the world.’ Jimmy grabbed a phone and handed it over. ‘You’ll probably find it hard to fathom, so take a few of our officers with you - and some of the liaison team, back to Washington.’ Jimmy faced the VP. ‘I’ll arrange a plane for you; they’re very safe. Let’s break for an hour, but then meet to plan the war strategy, shall we?’

The meeting broke up, and I updated Susan on everything, interrupted by Toby’s fascination with the new soldiers below; ‘Come dad, look.’

‘Does ... the other you seem happy with ... his family?’ Susan broached.

‘He ... seems happy enough, yes. But ... he’s the outsider, or at least he was, and I’m still right hand to Jimmy. I know him, remember, and losing Jimmy like that must have been a hell of a blow, especially when we had plans to come back to 1920.’

‘He must have felt isolated, and redundant.’

‘So he came here when he had the excuse to do so. But moving around this world while he knew we were here, that must have been odd. And probably a bit lonely for him.’

‘Mia is beautiful.’

‘I prefer blondes,’ I said, getting a dig in the ribs, Susan dark haired.

‘His daughters are beautiful as well.’

‘You think they’ll trade for Toby?’

Susan sighed. ‘We can ask,’ she said, our son now launching paper planes out the window and down to the soldiers. ‘Do you think Jimmy will stay here, now that he’s exposed?’

‘Priority is The Brotherhood, everything after that is icing on the cake.’

‘You said there’s a liaison team from Gilchrist here?’ Susan puzzled. ‘Why did Jimmy call them in?’

‘Probably because the current administration from this era will relate to them, and not see this as some sort of invasion or take-over. But also to appease Gilchrist back home, to involve him; that way we can’t be criticised too much. The Vice President has been handed a poison pill though; I’m surprised Gilchrist sent him. Anything he does to show favour to the Americans here would cause havoc back home – and he knows it.’

‘I’m surprised he took the risk of coming.’

‘Must need a few extra votes.’

When the meeting resumed, we sat about a large table and a map of the world, making plans about the proposed attack on the Japanese, and on the Germans through Italy. The modern Rifles had made contact with the modern Marines here, and were well advanced in moving men by train up Tunisia, the first batch of twelve commandeered aircraft having landed in Southern Italy overnight.

The conventional American Army was poised to jump across to mainland Italy, its second force advancing through Spain and to the French border, the first units having fired in anger already. Reports from Britain were coming in steadily, starting with the RAF’s appraisals of what happened to the German cities struck by our fuel-air explosives. It was not pleasant reading, an estimated million dead, that many again wounded, everyone shocked by it, the news being kept from the British people for now. The atomic bombs were in Scotland, stood ready to use if necessary.

No definite word had come about Hitler’s fate, or whether he was buried or not, but aerial pictures showed that there was still frantic digging going on around the bunker, hundreds of men employed in the excavation. Berlin had been hit four times by fuel-air explosives, and four regions had been badly damaged, the centre having escaped damage. And now we scanned images of The Brotherhood themselves, when the smoke allowed, images of small groups of men, some carrying large green flags.

Jimmy faced the Marines General. ‘Contact the African Rifles, tell them to prepare for a night parachute drop.’ He tapped a map. ‘Right next to the portal. Use the best of the Pathfinders.’

‘Would that not be ... suicidal?’ the President broached.

‘The Luftwaffe may shoot down an aircraft, but I doubt it; their night interception is not great at the moment. And the area is still covered in a blanket of smoke, those on the ground confused and not working to any plan that I can see – on either side.’

‘Your people will be shooting at two groups,’ the President noted. ‘Caught in the middle.’

‘It’ll be difficult, but our people are very good, and hard to kill,’ Jimmy stated.

I asked, ‘They’ll go into the portal?’

‘If possible, and if we have the numbers ready at the right spot,’ Jimmy admitted. ‘We’ll need up to a hundred to go through, but we may only get one chance at sending any through. First, the portal may be off when they arrive - so they’d have to wait, or it may be locked open.’ He lifted his gaze to the Marines General. ‘Get a team of your best men together, a couple of hundred, and we’ll drop them in just as soon as we can. And General, they may go in and not come back out.’

‘I understand, sir,’ the General acknowledged.

‘That portal must be captured, but more importantly than that, we need to know if the portal sent anyone anywhere else. So, find six technicians from Manson, and ask them to volunteer to not only parachute in, but to go through the portal with the Rifles, to check the settings and come back out.’

‘Jesus,’ Baldy let out, a look exchanged with me.

The President took in our faces. ‘And their chances of success?’

‘Slim, but they go anyway,’ Jimmy insisted. ‘And if they’re killed, we send more – and we keep sending them.’ He faced the Marines General. ‘We capture that portal at any cost.’

The General nodded, a glance at the VP from our era. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Would an atomic bomb close it?’ the President asked.

‘Yes,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘And that may save this world. But what of other worlds that may be destroyed, what of America on those worlds – and the American voters on those world. You were elected to represent them ... over there ... as much as here; they’re all Americans, just in a different place.’

‘It’s a strange concept to grasp,’ the President admitted.

‘Those people, those American voters, have a common ancestor with the people on this world,’ I pointed out. ‘World’s split ... and become two identical worlds, then start to change because of random luck and random decisions. Over there, somewhere, is a version of you, or your grandchildren.’

‘Can’t think of them as strangers,’ Baldy put in. ‘Nor us. Jimmy came here to help you, but you’re from a different planet. He came … because we’re all part of the same family, just in different places.’

‘And now that we know about each other,’ I began. ‘Your people can pop across to our world for a visit, and we can come here. Probably be a few trade agreements as well.’

‘Trade agreements?’ the President repeated.

The VP piped up with, ‘We’ll be happy to discuss them with you.’

‘I hadn’t considered that the worlds might interact in that way,’ the President admitted. ‘But you gentlemen have a massive advantage over us in science, so how would we pay for goods?’

‘There are ways,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘A company from our era could design and oversee the building of tall buildings or long bridges here, and you can pay in gold, or land.’

‘Land?’

‘There are probably many people on our world who would like to retire here, to live here,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘Cities are very crowded where we come from, land at a premium; you could trade land for technology. I’ll oversee it to make sure that you get a fair deal.’

‘Tourism here would probably be big business,’ I suggested.

‘As well as the arrival of unscrupulous operators,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘It would all have to be tightly guarded, or the visitors would trade the stock markets.’

‘As you do,’ the President firmly noted.

‘What do you think funded the research and building of the aircraft you now fly on, or use in the war?’ Jimmy testily pointed out. ‘If The Brotherhood hadn’t arrived here, that money would have gone towards developing antidotes for diseases, safe aircraft, safe cars and trucks, and be used after disasters.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Baldy told the President.

‘It’s ... all something that we’d have to give a great deal of thought to,’ the President suggested. ‘The idea of people with advance knowledge of the stock markets horrifies me.’

‘That ship has sailed,’ Jimmy firmly pointed out. ‘And regardless of what you may decide, the British may have other ideas. Churchill gave a speech a few hours ago and detailed who I am; your news agencies will be picking that up today. Once the egg is broken, there’s no putting it back together.’

‘And how much does the British Cabinet know?’ the President asked, seeming concerned.

‘They’ve known about us for almost a year now,’ Jimmy responded. ‘At least some of them have. Take all the time you want, Mister President, but just don’t get left behind.’

I hid a smile.

Lobster stood surveying the hurried activity at Malwini, having just come from the other Mawlini. And no, he didn’t get permission from the General first. He walked forwards, stopping to inspect a Boeing, and marvelling at the vintage plane, cutting edge technology on this world. In the temporary command tent he found Colonel Ngomo.

‘The General sent me to arrest you,’ Lobster loudly called, men stopping and starring, wide-eyed, Ngomo suddenly mortified. Lobster laughed loudly.

‘That’s not funny,’ Colonel Ngomo said as the officers laughed. ‘And how did you get permission to be here?’

‘I may have ... overlooked telling the General I was coming,’ Lobster admitted. ‘We’ll both be court-martialled upon our return, adjoining cells, Joshua.’

‘Now that you’re here, one of us can create a forward base in Tunisia,’ Ngomo said.

‘I’m junior, so it will have to be me,’ Lobster pointed out.

Ngomo appeared as if he was about to object, then simply nodded. ‘Grab the next flight with your team.’

‘These funny looking aircraft ... they’re safe?’

‘Designed by Mister Silo. They do, apparently, have an excellent safety record.’

‘Have you seen your father?’ Lobster asked.

‘Yes, he’s around here organising supplies, as well as Mac and Handy. Mister Steffan Silo is organising trains.’

‘Well, then I’ll leave you for Tunisia.’ They saluted each other, but with coy smiles.

Four hours later, en route to Tunisia, Lobster knelt next to the white commercial pilots, the men roped in by Rudd and paid well. ‘Gentlemen, does this aircraft have the fuel to reach Southern Italy?’

The pilot and co-pilot exchanged looks. ‘Well, yes.’

‘Then set a course for this place, Brindisi, which – I understand – is in the hands of the British Army.’

‘We’d arrive just about sunset,’ the pilot mentioned.

‘Fine, you’ll get a bonus.’

‘Do your soldiers carry the strange weapons that Jimmy Silo invented?’ the co-pilot asked.

Lobster took a moment. ‘Yes, they fire light.’

‘Light?’

‘A very bright light that burns people when it hits them, and we can hit someone many miles away.’

‘Crikey, the Germans won’t know what hit them.’

‘That’s the whole idea.’ Lobster sat back down with his men, just as his adjutant passed over a data-pad, microwave linked to Canada. Lobster peered at my face. ‘Mister Paul.’

‘How you doing, buddy?’

‘On my way to Southern Italy, a place called Brindisi.’

‘You’ll be fighting your way up Italy then.’

‘Indeed so.’

‘You may have heard, but we’re organising a parachute drop directly into Germany, to where the fighting is around the portal.’

‘Sounds like the landing would be ... interesting.’

‘Casualties could be high, old friend, so don’t go volunteering for it.’

‘I’m not one for breaking the rules, Mister Paul,’ Lobster suggested, getting a look from those around him.

‘You’ve come a long way since Scorpion Base,’ I said.

‘A long way, yes. I even have lessons on how to talk like I have plumbs in my mouth.’

I smiled. ‘Don’t go too far, and don’t end up looking like Michael Jackson!’

‘A tragic loss to the world, his parting, although my men have forbidden me to moon-walk when drinking.’

I laughed. ‘That sounds like a good idea.’

‘I was at Shelly’s Marina just a few weeks ago; it hasn’t changed, sir.’

‘I’d like to visit, on my return, but I don’t know when that’ll be. Besides, it’ll be full of bloody tourists.’

‘How goes the war, sir?’

‘We were close to ending the war when The Brotherhood arrived; it would have been over in a matter of weeks, and should be now. To accelerate things we used fuel-air explosives against German cities, a ... million dead.’

Lobster took a moment. ‘They must now surely surrender, sir.’

‘They’ve taken very heavy losses, so we’re hopeful that we can end it soon. We have bigger problems.’

‘Indeed, sir. And how many fighters have come through the portal?’

‘Enough to push back the German Army, so tens of thousands of them we think.’

‘And this parachute force?’

‘A couple of hundred at most, a few days till any relief arrives, two weeks before ground forces arrive.’

‘A most difficult challenge, sir.’

‘That parachute mission will have US Marines involved, but the Rifles will land first. Organise your men ready, we’re arranging suitable aircraft.’

‘The ones called Buffalo?’

‘Yes, they’re tough aircraft. As soon as you can, dispatch the paratroopers, we’ll send the coordinates. Make it a night drop. Oh, the area around the drop is on fire as we speak, so there’ll be plenty of smoke cover. Just tell the men not to land on a burning tree.’

‘And the objective, sir?

‘To find the portal’s event horizon and to jump through, taking control of it from their end. We’ve dispatched a group of technicians, and they’ll jump through when it’s secure - to take control of it.’

‘The welcoming committee may be put out ... at our arrival,’ Lobster noted.

‘Very ... put out. Do you have knock-out gas?’

‘We do, and masks.’

‘Use it when the men go in, we may get lucky. They won’t be expecting it.’

‘And what might we expect to find on the other side?’

‘A world overrun by The Brotherhood; could be millions of them near the portal. If there is, then blow it up – hopefully not leaving anyone behind.’

‘Hopefully,’ Lobster repeated.

‘With some luck, we’ll raise glasses in Shelly’s Marina when this is over.’

‘With luck, sir, yes.’

‘Take care.’ I ended the call.

Lobster handed back the data-pad. ‘Gentlemen, we have some detailed plans to make; an opposed parachute drop.’

‘My fellow Americans, I’m addressing you today from the city of Seattle, and discussing something of great importance to you all,’ the President began, stood now outside a civic building in the city, movie cameras rolling. He inched closer to a square microphone. ‘I have just met with Jimmy Silo and his team at Trophy Aircraft. Some of you will have heard previous radio broadcasts regarding Mister Silo, strange broadcasts claiming that Mister Silo and his team are travellers through time, men from the future.

‘People of America, I can now confirm to you that Mister Silo and his team are indeed travellers through time, and have come to us from the future. They came to assist us with the war against Japan and Germany, and have provided us advanced weapons and aircraft to assist in the war. You will all be familiar with the wondrous aircraft that Jimmy Silo builds, but he is also involved with munitions, with weapons, and in the training of our soldiers – using knowledge from the future. Using such advanced weapons, we hope to have the war concluded in just a few short weeks, and hope to do so with the minimum casualties to our brave soldiers.

‘In addition to the supply of advanced weapons, we are also in possession of advanced bombs, bombs that could destroy a city, and bombs that could destroy Tokyo in a single blast.’

I turned away from the radio set. ‘Was that wise? He’s trying to scare the Japs into surrendering now.’

Jimmy shrugged, making a face. ‘The Russians will now know about the atom bombs.’

The President continued, ‘Those bombs would only be used as a last resort, since the deaths amongst civilians would be great. I can also report today … that the British Royal Air Force made use of special bombs, and dropped those bombs onto German cities to hasten the end of the war. Those bombs are reported to have killed up to a million Germans, a great loss of life. We are hopeful that the Germans will now see sense, and surrender.

‘That surrender, both from Germany and Japan, will now be hastened with the arrival in Canada of soldiers from the future armed with advanced weapons, the first of which have flown to China to fight the Japanese. These soldiers have weapons that are far beyond those that we could build ourselves, and the objective of those soldiers is to bring the war to a close as quickly as possible. Fear not, my fellow Americans, these soldiers are US Marines, but from the future; they are our boys. That’s all for now. I’ll be flying back to Washington to discuss these extraordinary events with my staff, and will talk to you again very soon. Thank you.’

‘He kept to the script,’ I noted, Jimmy nodding.

Marines had been dispatched aboard our aircraft, now half-way to Nova Scotia, thereafter to fly directly on towards Britain and Germany.

An hour later, a report came in from the Brest Peninsular; the Germans were pulling back. Jimmy and I exchanged looks. Jimmy then sent a note to Timkins, asking that the RAF attack roads and rail links around Normandy, to stop the German units reaching either the Antwerp Pocket, or from returning to Germany. We had hardly sent the order when rumours arrived of the death of Hitler and his senior staff, a General now in charge.

‘No surrender offer yet,’ I noted.

Jimmy looked disappointed. ‘He’s going to pull back his units to the German border, then talk peace.’ He sighed. ‘But not if we can stop them.’

We contacted the Antwerp Pocket via London, the men on the ground reporting no contacts today, armour seen to be leaving the area. Jimmy sent Timkins a note: “Attack out from pocket, don’t let them get home, move tanks towards the border! Use RAF to bomb all road and rail links, all bridges, asap.”

‘Could we use the Marines?’ I asked.

Jimmy took a moment. ‘We can drop some in by parachute, but they’d need to operate in wooded areas or towns, they’re not kitted out to operate against tanks.’

In the hours that followed, we dispatched many thousands of the Marines by train to Nova Scotia, but they would take a week to get there. All available civilian aircraft were brought in, including planes from American Airlines and others, a call from Jimmy meeting with positive responses.

Meanwhile, in Hong Kong, Big Paul was still trying to explain time travel to the senior officers, and the Governor of the colony. The stock-piled weapons had been shipped out, now just about every British infantryman with his own AK47 and RPG, the communists all-out attacking the Japanese, who were running very low on supplies.

The prop fighters took off three times a day, and pounded any Japanese units they could find, but those sorties sometimes revealed no suitable targets, the distances covered being greater and greater. Unknown to us, but somehow predictable, was Mao sending units towards the Nationalist Chinese in Beijing, hardened units armed with the AK47s and RPGs, battery grenades and mortars, something of a mismatch. The first Nationalist Division was wiped out to a man by just two hundred experienced communist fighters. The RAF, embedded with Mao, had been asked to assist, but thought better of it and flew off to Hong Kong without saying goodbye. Once there, Big Paul agreed that they had done the right thing; attacking the Beijing Nationalists was not part of the plan.

By that evening we had real-time images of the fighting in Manchuria, images from the helmet-cams of Marines. Holding a data-pad, I could see a Marine zoom in on a Japanese soldier stood guard duty, the screen suggesting that the man was 1600 yards away. A red blip, and the man fell. His colleague ran over, soon cut down. The Marines were firing from a mile away, the Japanese enlisted men having no idea why their colleagues were just dropping dead.

‘Eighty-six,’ a voice announced. ‘Mick, let’s move forwards, next ridge.’

‘Roger that. Moving.’

I tapped the screen, and waited. ‘Yes, sir?’ came a voice.

‘This is Paul Holton in Canada. Can you talk?’

‘Yes, sir, just humping down a rise.’

‘You’ve killed eighty-six?’

‘Yes, sir, but the day ain’t over yet.’ The image wobbled as the Marine walked, images of trees, a farm with mud walls.

‘How’s it going ... in general?’

‘Fine, sir. Weather is OK, local food and water seems OK, and the Japs seem to be just conscripts; just stood around with a thumb up their ass. At this rate we’ll hit the fucking coast in a week.’

‘Good work. Out.’ I tapped the screen, muting the comms link.

‘My God,’ came a voice.

I turned to see a General from this era; he had been looking over my shoulder. ‘Technology, eh.’

‘Amazing. Soldiers with cameras on their helmets, officers watching what they’re doing.’

‘Good job he didn’t stop to take a piss,’ I said as I stood, handing over the data-pad, the images still live. Seeing one of Gilchrist’s men, I approached. ‘Where’s the Vice President?’

‘With the President from this world, off down to Washington,’ the man reported. ‘Tell me, you think trade is possible?’

‘Definitely. They have a strong need for technology, and the folks back home would love to visit this place. It would have to tightly controlled, passports shown and carried, but I’m not worried about people trying to bet the stock markets. Given what’s happened ... there’s no way in hell that they would be predictable. And as for companies like Boeing, we’ve already interfered a great deal, so no one can tell when they’ll expand or take-over another company. And as for the likes of Microsoft, it’ll never happen now. Someone might bet the races and get lucky, or try and manage the Beatles, but we can keep an eye on that.’

‘Off-world tourism had been considered,’ the man admitted. ‘But to somewhere isolated, an Earth that was very different.’

‘An Earth that was very different ... would be very dangerous and unpredictable, and the insurance premiums would be excessive,’ I pointed out, the man nodding. ‘Here, people could spend a week at our fishing lodge, have pie and coffee in a genuine diner, watch a few old movies and return – no danger. And they’d pay good money for it. That money helps our world’s economy, and this lot make a few bucks as well. Jimmy and I considered it before.’

‘We just need to deal with The Brotherhood first.’ He lifted a data-pad and called up an image, parallel lines of men, green headscarves clearly visible. ‘They’re coming out of the portal at a rate of six hundred and hour, day and night. We could bomb it.’ He waited.

‘And risk damaging the portal their end, which we need intact to know if they’ve been anywhere else.’

‘What’ll you do, exactly?’ the man pressed.

‘The Rifles will parachute into the area and contain the fighters, then fight through the portal, knock-out gas thrown through. Our guys have masks, and they’ll go in, securing it. They key ... will be the technicians that go with them. They’ll need to check the logs, and then get back to us alive.’

The man lifted his eyebrows. ‘Do they know that?’

‘We have six volunteers.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s got to be done; just closing it achieves nothing. They could go back to before we came here ... and sack this world.’

‘NASA is still looking at a technical solution, one to stop anyone going into our past. But so far ... they’re not hopeful.’

I nodded, looking and feeling a little despondent. ‘For now it’s a low-tech solution, known as a good old-fashioned gun battle.’

He tapped the data-pad. ‘The Brotherhood have standard AK47s, nothing advanced. The soldiers here believe that they came from a world that’s circa 1980.’

‘1980? How do they know?’

‘Make and model of the AK47s, and the RPG variants.’

I considered that, people bustling around me. ‘Which means ... that Russia must have survived the Second World War to develop the rifles.’

‘The rifles have markings, definitely Russian.’

‘Well, it makes sense after all,’ I said. ‘But I wonder what happened over there to allow The Brotherhood to rise in 1980. Maybe a nuclear conflict, NATO and Russia, around 1970; that would do it.’

‘The portal is near Berlin, and that area would have been nuked in any war in 1970,’ the man pointed out. ‘So who built it?’

‘Maybe Russia won that war, and claimed Germany intact somehow.’

He lifted his eyebrows. ‘I’ll not be sending that suggestion back. Anyway, maybe the Germans over there won the Second World War.’

‘Oh, forgot to mention in all that’s happened, but there’s a traveller here, a German, helping the Germans with coal-oil technology.’

‘A German? Then they did build the portal, and win the war!’

‘Bet you won’t be sending that report back either,’ I quipped.

‘No, not yet anyway. But Dr Singh did open a portal to a world that had been dominated by the Germans.’

‘If the Germans won the war, Russia would be subservient – or destroyed.’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe they fought back, joining forces with the Arabs. Hence the AK47s.’

I made a face, thrusting my hands into my pockets. ‘The Germans would have probably stopped beyond Moscow and left Siberia alone, and they would have gone for Middle East oil by the 1960s, so maybe they pissed off the Arab world.’

‘I can’t see a Nazi German Army being nice to the Arabs.’

‘Those idiots,’ I let out. ‘They probably persecuted the Arabs for decades and gave rise to The Brotherhood.’

‘But why build a time machine?’ he wondered out loud.

‘Why does anyone? To go back and fix things,’ I pointed out.

‘What did they want to fix? The rise of The Brotherhood?’

‘Maybe ... Germany and America fought a nuclear war, in the sixties, and the time machine was a post-apocalyptic venture, years after the war ended; a desperate move as on Jimmy’s original world. The guy who came through, the German, hardly had a clue what he was doing, and he’s over there while Germany is getting the crap kicked out of it. So my money is on post-apocalyptic.’

‘Seems plausible. So how’s it been, these past ten years?’

‘I designed a few aircraft, some munitions, met a girl I thought was a spy and had kids with her.’

The man laughed. ‘Seems familiar, somehow. Why did you think your dear lady a spy?’

‘She was a plant.’

The man’s eyes widened. ‘She was?’

‘The other me sent her to make a small change in the time line. The Japs ... they were due to attack this hotel by sub and kill her, so she came back to stop that. And Hal was due to die in a motorbike accident.’

Baldy stepped in with a delegation of people, dressed as if from our era. He approached. ‘Liaisons team ... from our world to yours. Embassy, that sort of thing. We’d like you to send one back.’

‘Of course,’ the man I had been chatting to agreed. ‘But not much chance of any trade; we’re almost identical!’

‘It’s for off-world policy,’ Baldy suggested.

‘Coordinated ... off-world policy,’ I suggested. ‘The trip here has taught us that sitting back and doing nothing in isolation is not an option. Genie is well and truly out the frigging bottle!’

Baldy led his team away.

At the Antwerp Pocket, the commanders on the ground could see the vast movement of German men and armour heading home around the south of Brussels. Three separate armoured thrusts were quickly arranged, each headed by main tanks and supported by light tanks, air-cover available, RAF heavy bombers on standby. Today, the Luftwaffe was nowhere to be seen, Sykes reporting dissent in the German ranks, at least dissent amongst a few Generals.

The tank thrusts cut the German convoys, who could not effectively retreat and fight at the same time, airstrikes brought in to pound the German columns, now sitting ducks, even as it got dark. Casualties were high on the German side, few tanks making it to the border, those units remaining in France all now being herded further south. The American Brigade had gotten wind of the retreat, and moved north in buses and cars, fighting where they found fleeing German units. And there started a small wave that would become a tidal wave, as the French people got wind of the retreat. We had dropped weapons and explosives for the French Resistance, and now nudged the RAF to fly at night and drop more.

By dawn the next day, the roads leading to the German border were clogged, but – more importantly – everyone in France now knew of the retreat that was actually a rout; they came out in their millions, even if all they had was a pitchfork. Up and down France, German units surrendered after being cut off, the French citizens relieving the Germans infantry of its weapons, then to move on and use those weapons against the more stubborn German units.

Parisians woke to find the Germans gone, and celebrated, the lead American units in the far southwest of France reporting no opposition. They were ordered on – as fast as possible. Time travelling super-soldiers or not, the US administration had an eye on post-war politics.

Receiving confirmation of the rout, Churchill threw everything he had at the Germans, ships called into move troops across the Channel, the RAF landing soldiers in Denmark in a brazen move. Ships had sailed from Britain to Antwerp during the night, no resistance met, thousands of British soldiers off-loading and heading south or east. It would not all be over for Christmas, it would be over in a matter of days.

Hal had been grounded, but that decision had then been reversed suddenly, Hal given a mission by Jimmy. He flew off at dawn the next day with his squadron, the men now knowing just who Hal and Hacker were, and where the marvellous technology had come from. At first light, Hal nosed down towards the position of the portal, southwest of Berlin, and made many large holes in the farmland that surrounded the portal exit, a tight pattern. Those holes were designed to slow up and bottle up The Brotherhood’s men as they emerged, but also to give the Rifles cover when they landed, the area around the portal flat and featureless for the most part.

Hal returned without having seen the Luftwaffe, who were now in a state of paralysis, their commanders at odds with the new interim leadership, which sought a negotiated peace – after the German units had returned home. Many of those units, brought back from Italy and France, were surrounding The Brotherhood’s fighters and trying to maintain a cordon, unaware that Arab fighters – in German uniforms – had slipped through the German lines at night.

The German cordon was almost twelve miles across at its widest, the area that was now effectively controlled by The Brotherhood containing two small towns, a few villages, and an industrial suburb of Berlin. That suburb forced the two sides close, and into close-range engagements, the suicidal Arabs having the advantage in weapons and tactics. Through the night, before Hal had pock-marked a field or two, the Arabs had snuck a mile closer to central Berlin through drains. Emerging at dawn, they had run at lines of German soldiers, screaming before detonating themselves, the Arabs AK47s often emptied as they ran. For each Arab fighter that died, they often took ten Germans with them.

But then I received a note from Sykes, and was concerned, as well as pissed off. Russian divisions were mobilising, and were now moving west towards their border with Poland and Hungary. I went and found Jimmy. ‘Russians are mobilising their army.’

He lowered his newspaper, taking a moment. ‘They can see that the Germans are defeated, and they can smell the blood in the water. They, like the current US administration, have an eye on post-war politics.’

‘You think they’ll take Poland? Didn’t Baldy get them together to sign a treaty?’

Jimmy shot me a look. ‘You think Stalin will keep to that?’

I slumped down. ‘Great, another front in the war. If they take Poland and Hungary we’ll have to push them out, and then start a Cold War all over again.’

‘Right now the Russian Army couldn’t organise a tea party, let alone fight the Germans – even in retreat. Stalin has numbers on paper, but he doesn’t realise just how crap they are. If he attacks the German border anytime soon he’ll lose a great many men - and may even be unseated at home. Besides, he’ll soon get to learn of what the RAF did to German cities.’

‘He may think he’s far enough away from the RAF,’ I suggested.

‘Maybe, he’s not the brightest tool. We’ll have to chat to the other you, to see if he knows what Stalin is up to. It may just be posturing for the folks back home, or he might wonder if the British and Americans will halt at the German border with Poland.’

‘That’ll be a reversal in history, NATO up to the Russian border!’

‘Without a Russian threat, there’s unlikely to be a NATO,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘Still, it’s a distraction we don’t need.’

All that day the fighting in France was intense and desperate, the German units dispirited and keen to get home, the French citizens keen to give the retreating Germans a hard time. Around the Antwerp Pocket, our tanks were now moving about in daylight, brazen attacks on German columns, decimating the German armour. Tens of thousands of German soldiers surrendered, only to be ignored and told to sit down in fields as our units thrust ever south or east, soon seeing advance units just twenty miles from the German border itself.

The RAF pounded that border, and its road and rail links, creating bottlenecks that the Boeings and prop fighters made use of, strafing at length all vehicles spotted below. Even Hal got involved before the light faded, his flight taking down a few bridges with well-aimed bombs.

But Jimmy and I were focused on the night’s operation, night time in Europe. Six of our Buffalos had been flown into southern Italy, to a strip near Brindisi, and had been loaded with men of Rifles from our era, all now kitted out with our latest parachutes, the dated designs a concern to the soldiers. At dusk, the aircraft lifted off and headed north, two hundred and forty men of the Kenyan Rifles Pathfinders aboard, including Lobster, who was along for the ride, and for morale purposes.

Jimmy and I both knew he would jump, despite orders to the contrary, and we worried over the foolish yet brave action our old friend was about to take. As those Buffalos had taken off, a second flight of eight aircraft had taken off from Scotland, those Super Goose containing US Marines - also kitted with our parachutes. The aircraft were not designed for paratrooper release, and so the Marines would have to jump in sequence out of a side door, several passes of the area made. They had been tasked with establishing a perimeter around the portal, whilst the Rifles fought their way towards it, out-numbered on all sides. The Marines would fight The Brotherhood to their rear, and the Germans ahead of them, probably being subjected to indiscriminate artillery fire.

They also knew that there would be no support coming - other than by parachute drop, and then when the weather permitted, and that ground units were a long way off. It was epic in its scope and audacity, the battle certain to be made into a film on our world in a matter of weeks.

My data-pad accurately relayed the positions of the aircraft, and I could call-up helmet cams, mostly just dark images at the moment, the men resting. Over Berlin, several of our small drone aircraft now circled, solar-powered during the day, flying on batteries at night. They offered thermal images of the ground below, as well as radio intercepts and a radar profile of the area southwest of Berlin.

Sat in the diner, Jimmy sighed. ‘This could be the most important battle since I stepped through the portal the first time.’ Those in earshot stopped to consider that. ‘Everything I’ve done could be unwound, and by the very people I fled when taking that first step.’

It was heady stuff, the importance of the crucible around the portal made more real. People picked up data-pads and studied images of Germany, a few of the black scientists linking their laptops to the comms grid set up by the military. Those scientists had been brought back from Lemming Base, many projects now sidelined since the other scientists became aware of the fact that we had been drip-feeding them technology. We’d now just educate the British and American scientists, after consultations with the current administration.

An hour later, people sat huddled around data-pads, the radar profile displaying the approach of the Rifles from the south, the Marines still an hour away at least. The scientists altered a few parameters on a laptop, and a wall came to life, an image of the area around the portal displayed six feet high. The approaching Buffalos could be seen, as well as the portal’s position, thousands of small dots denoting thermal signatures on the ground; The Brotherhood.

Lobster sat down and eased on his chute, his adjutant helping with the straps. Standing awkwardly, Lobster checked his chute and reserve as far as he could, men of the current-day Rifles double-checking everything.

Those six Kenyan men of the current-day Rifles had gone through a wide range of emotions in the past twenty-four hours, from interest in these new soldiers who worked for Mister Silo, to curiosity about the wondrous weapons, to finding out that they were from the future – a future where blacks became Presidents and movie stars, and a future where Africa was a very prosperous continent. Those six Rifles now attended their future black brethren with pride, puffed-up chests and permanent smiles.

Lobster fixed his laser rifle to his harness with a clip, indicating for others to do so, and made his way to the rear of the aircraft, waddling along with the awkward parachute and reserve. This jump would be made from two thousand feet, a night drop – but on a particularly dark night.

The normal height for a combat jump was around eight hundred feet, less time spent being a target in the air. But tonight Lobster did not expect the Arabs to be peering skywards, and he had smoke to negotiate, but more than that he wanted his men to open fire on ground units from above, silently killing the unsuspecting fighters below. Otherwise, they would land in a heap next to a patrol of fighters and be killed quickly.

The pilots of the Buffalos had been amazed by a crafty lie, a lie that an RAF plane was circling overhead and would guide them in. It did, apparently, have radar and radio direction finding fitted for this very purpose. Actually, the Rifles were using a data-pad linked to the overhead drones, and they had map-scanned the terrain below for accurate position readouts. Corrections were given to the pilots, the final correction now made.

Lobster made ready. His aircraft’s rear ramp powered down, a roar created above the drone of the prop engines, and a loud signal to the men. All now faced the rear, a hand on the shoulder of the man in front, legs wide for stability. They shuffled towards the rear as the pilot set flaps and reduced speed, descending towards the prescribed altitude, no reports of any German aircraft in the sky this dark night. Winds were light, but not ideal for a drop. They would have to do, since time was of the essence here, reports reaching us that the pocket occupied by The Brotherhood was widening.

With a signal from a soldier holding a data-pad now being passed forwards, Lobster leapt into the dark, and into the unknown, alongside his adjutant, both men soon reassured by a yank upwards and the sound of the chute opening, both men thankful that Jimmy and I had designed the chutes. As Lobster drifted down he could hear the drone of the aircraft as it moved away, and lifted his rifle, a thumb turning it on. Scanning the unseen ground below, he selected THERMAL and immediately found hundreds of small white dots. Bending his knees, so that he didn’t shoot his own boots, Lobster zoomed in on the ground immediately below him, unaware that his thermal sight was penetrating a thin layer of smoke.

Coming into focus was a line of fighters walking brazenly along, AK47s held lazily over soldiers. He aimed as best he could as he drifted down, aiming at the rear of the patrol, selected AUTOMATIC FIRE, and opened up on the last man, moving his aim quickly forwards. Six seconds later, and the patrol members were lying down, the insides of their skulls cooking in the heat of laser contact.

With his range-finder suggesting that he was at 1500 feet, Lobster sought out other targets, catching tiny flashes of light out of the corner of his eye. As other men were firing, and their laser pulses were catching moisture in the air and the smoke layer itself, a little light reflected. Lobster found a line of ten men below him, took a moment, and then fired from rear to front again, catching all but one, who now seemed to be firing at something on the ground. Lobster waited for his chute to settle down, and hit the final man, thermal flashes seen emerging from the fighters AK47. Other fighters were firing, firing at each other on this dark night.

Pulling a battery grenade from his chest pouch, Lobster set it for twenty seconds, pulled the pin and lobbed it down towards a farmhouse that seemed occupied, his altitude now only 900 feet. Someone else had the same idea, and Lobster could hear distant blasts, areas of smoke lit-up for a moment, a dull-grey in comparison to the blackness all around him. A moment before the battery grenade detonated, Lobster hit the smoke layer, his lungs soon full of acrid smoke. He lifted his mask and adjusted it, just as he saw the area beneath his feet turn grey for a moment, his chute buffeted slightly, even at this altitude.

At five hundred feet Lobster was concerned, the ground rushing up, but there were still many thermal contacts visible through his sights. With some determination and anger, yet limited in his range of movement in the chute, he fired on as many targets as he could, now seeing many flashes of light through the smoke. Coming in to land, between two rows of what appeared to be apple trees, Lobster bent his knees, but kept firing at any fighters he could see for as long as he could.

A tree branch yanking him sideways halted Lobster’s firing. A loud crack, that of a branch breaking, and he hit the moist grass on his side with a thud, soon struggling to release his chute. Stood with the harness still around his ankles, he lowered his mask and raised his rifle, now completely blind, the world just dark shadows and echoing gunfire. Swinging the rifle, he could see distant fighters, but none close, a 360 degree sweep made.

A thud and ‘Shit!’ caused him an involuntary smile, one of his men landing nearby. Lobster swung his rifle around, the thermal sight displaying a large red cross, a warning not to fire on one of his own, the man’s EM signature being read by the rifle. A press of Lobster’s thumb, and the man’s name and rank appeared.

‘Captain, over here,’ Lobster whispered.

Another thud denoted his unit sergeant dropping in, a few fallen apples squished. Lobster raised his rifle, seeing now the farmhouse on fire, and located the orange images of wounded fighters. He opened up, cutting them down as the Captain rushed over.

With his adjutant found, and twelve men behind him, Lobster moved forwards, his data-pad indicating the direction of the portal. As a group, they moved silently along, stopping every thirty seconds to clear the area ahead, often hitting fighters from four hundred yards or more through the dark, the fighters having no idea what was killing them. Apples were squished underfoot, bodies stepped over, or tripped over, wounded fighters finished off as the Rifles advanced across gently undulated fields and through orchards.

By time they reached a road, sixty men were now formed up into six advancing wedge shapes, each fighter that was spotted being hit by up to a hundred blasts in a second, and cooked alive.

Lobster hit TRANSMIT. ‘The portal is ahead, five hundred yards, but we need to be behind it, so we’ll traverse right and around.’

The body of men changed direction, their thermal sights relaying the positions of their colleagues, and crossed the road, the bodies of long-dead German soldiers briefly examined, the stench filling the air. A small wood was slowly negotiated, a dozen fighters killed, more bodies stepped over and stepped past. Through the wood, Lobster could see a dull light in the distance with his naked eye. Lifting his rifle, he could see the edges of the event horizon, fighters stepping through, being marshalled by other men stood under large flags on poles.

‘Unit One: go left, halt at one hundred yards, silent approach, no firing unless necessary. Unit two: go right, same deal. Captain, set a cordon to our rear, edge of these woods. Major, co-ordinate the rest of the men not yet here, signal them and get them to this location. Everyone else, on me, but form a line for concentrated fire effect. Move out.’

Lobster stepped cautiously forwards, feeling the ground with his boots as he advanced, soon a line of twenty men advancing across a field towards the rear of the portal, unseen so far. At fifty yards, stepping slowly forwards, a hundred fighters now in view through the dark, Lobster press TRANSMIT. ‘Ready four battery grenades, everyone kneel down.’ He waited for men to acknowledge that the grenades were ready. ‘Set for five seconds, and then throw one second apart as far as you can – it will look like artillery fire. They should pause. On my mark, everyone else ready to duck, and ... throw now!’

The first man lifted up, took two steps and threw for all that he was worth, a good sixty yard launch, other men soon following. The first blast wobbled Lobster and his men, debris raining down on them, four blasts in quick succession, body-parts landing. Along with a great many apples, the Rifles lightweight helmets impacted.

With the final blast, Lobster lifted up and scanned the aftermath, little movement now seen. He stood, his men following suit, and advanced, his men firing at those fighters crawling around or trying to stand. As he did so, the sounds of other aircraft registered; the Marines were here.

As the Rifles neared the rear of the event horizon, Lobster was conscious of the fact that no-one had come through for a few minutes. Edging around the event horizon, each step carefully measures and now in an eerily quiet field - just the odd groan given up, Lobster caught his first glimpse of the inside of the portal, a room of white walls and torn posters, the large steel coils of the portal visible, a desk with a piece of electrical machinery on. Smoke still hung in the air from the blasts, as Lobster now lifted his mask into place.

‘Masks on,’ he ordered. ‘Knock-out gas ready. Release the first two canisters here, they’ll think it smoke.’

A hissing sound indicated the canisters deployed, its grey gas rising towards the portal, some movement noted inside. They waited a full thirty seconds.

‘OK, ready to throw four canisters inside, but just inside, and roll them in gently,’ he quietly ordered, moving around for a better view as his men knelt down and rolled canisters into the portal opening, just above the event horizon.

Lobster could now see a large room, brightly lit and with white walls, much pipe work, many tall computer cabinets. It reminded him of pictures he had seen of Jimmy’s old world, and the portal there. With no one immediately visible, he lifted his rifle and took a video image for three seconds as he scanned the room.

Jimmy, along with everyone else at the hotel, had been watching through the helmet-cams of the soldiers, and now he saw the image, standing up from where he had been sitting. ‘That’s my old world.’

I jumped up. ‘What?’

Jimmy pointed at the images as they filled a wall. ‘That ... portal room, that’s ... Manson, Canada, my old world.’

‘It can’t be, we still have soldiers stationed there,’ I pointed out, everyone in the diner now puzzled.

Jimmy faced me. ‘Then it’s an identical copy somehow.’

I faced the new images as they came through to us. ‘How?’

‘Maybe that world split off, at an earlier date or something,’ Jimmy suggested. He lifted his new phone. ‘Computer. Patch me through to Colonel Nbeki.’

Lobster heard the ‘bing’ in his ear. ‘Lobster here,’ he whispered.

‘This is Jimmy Silo. That portal is a replica of the one at Manson. Go in, turn right, there’s a long corridor. Close the blast doors and you’ll be sealed in. Above the blast doors you’ll see ladders and vents, use them to get to the roof and attack from there, but keep the blast doors closed.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Lobster could now see the knock-out gas filling the large portal control room, and edged closer. A curious face peeked around the corner, a man in a white lab-coat, clearly not an Arab. Lobster fired at the man, hitting him in the head and killing him.

In the diner, I had seen the image. ‘That was no Brother!’

‘No,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘So who the fuck is operating the portal?’ Jimmy lifted his phone, contacting Lobster, who was now at the event horizon. ‘Lobster, get prisoners and ID cards, any papers, get them back out quickly.’

‘Yes, sir. Moving in.’

Lobster jumped into the control room and ran forwards, his men right behind him. As he knelt over the man he had shot, his men ran to the right, a shout was issued, a shout in German.

‘Was that ... German?’ I asked in the diner.

‘Yes,’ Jimmy confirmed. ‘So why are the Germans working with The Brotherhood to invade their own past, or what they think is their own past?’

‘Mister Silo?’ Lobster called.

‘Go ahead, Lobster,’ Jimmy responded.

‘Can you see and read this?’ He held an ID card his helmet cam.

Jimmy read the words, repeated in German and Arabic. ‘Prisoner number and food ration card. The man is a prisoner.’

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. I said, ‘The Brotherhood captured Germany? And the portal?’

Jimmy shrugged as the echo of gunfire registered.

‘We’ve sealed the doors,’ came a disembodied voice. ‘Climbing up.’

‘Nicht sheesen,’ came a voice, an image of a man in a white lab coat raising his hands.

Jimmy shouted, ‘Lobster, get than man through the portal, I want to talk to him!’

‘Yes, sir.’

The wobbly image showed Lobster nudging the man through the portal, the control room now full of Rifles. Back on our world, Lobster switched on a light fixed to his helmet, and sat the man against a tree, the man now looking terrified.

‘Lobster,’ Jimmy called. ‘Put your helmet speaker on.’

‘Done, sir.’

‘Can you hear me, portal technician?’ Jimmy asked in German.

‘Yah?’ the puzzled and terrified man replied with a puzzled frown. ‘Who ... who are you?’

‘My name is Jimmy Silo, I’m a time traveller.’

‘Silo? My god.’

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. ‘How do you know my name?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Your name was mentioned at a meeting, I was not supposed to know,’ the terrified man replied, two rifles pointed at his head.

‘I’m going to ask a few questions. Answer quickly, and truthfully, or the men you see will slice you up. Understand?’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘What year is it on your world?’

‘Year? 1984.’

Jimmy and I exchanged looks. Jimmy asked, ‘Was there a nuclear war?’

‘Nuclear, no.’

‘Did Germany win the last war, around 1939?’

‘Yah, 1938 to 1942.’

‘And what was the political map after that?’

‘Greater Germany occupied Europe, to beyond Moscow.’

‘And America?’

‘We signed a peace accord in 1952, thereafter the stand-off till now.’

‘And Japan?’

‘Japan ... they fought a war with America, war at sea.’

‘And how did that end?’

‘Japan controlled the Far East in a pact with Greater Germany, America occupied Australian and New Zealand, some islands in the Pacific.’

‘Was Japan nuclear armed?’

‘Yes, and America, and us,’ the man nervous replied, glancing up at the black faces.

‘When did The Brotherhood rise, and why?’

‘In 1972 the Americans landed in Saudi Arabia, and fought a war with us – a proxy war.’

‘Proxy war?’

‘The Turks fought for us, some from North Africa, the Arabs fighting for America.’

‘How did it end?’ Jimmy asked.

‘America withdrew after four years, and our forces occupied the Middle East.’

‘When and why did The Brotherhood rise?’

‘They rose up a year after the end of the fighting, first just a small terror group attacking oil pipes in Saudi Arabia.’ Everyone in the diner exchanged looks, Jimmy asking, ‘And how did the German forces deal with them?’

The man hesitated. ‘Many were rounded up and executed in public.’

‘And that just made things worse,’ Jimmy suggested, the man nodding. ‘What led to them controlling your time portal?’

‘They destroyed the oil, and the economy suffered, soon bombs in Turkey and Greece, then Italy, then skirmishes in Turkey and Albania.’

‘And the current lines?’

‘They ... occupy Germany, Italy, eastern Europe, but France and Britain and other countries hold out.’

‘When did you decide to build a time machine?’

The man puzzled that. ‘After you sent the instructions.’

Jimmy was again on his feet, so too many others. ‘After I ... sent you instructions?’

‘Yes, sir,’ came back very formally.

‘How were those instructions delivered?’ Jimmy pressed.

‘Our scientists were experimenting with the concept of time travel, because our spies in America said that they were doing also. When the first machine was constructed and ready to use, a bright light appeared and manual dropped through.’

‘A manual?’

‘Yes, written in English, and with your name on.’

Jimmy and I stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed. ‘No-one saw me?’

‘No, sir.’

‘And did that manual have a specific frequency written down?’

‘Frequency? You mean the code to open the portal? Yes, it was in the book.’

‘Any other codes?’ Jimmy pressed.

‘No. What do you mean ... other codes?’

‘The portal does not go back in time to your past, it goes to a parallel dimension.’

‘My god. We had theorised about this.’

‘And the manual didn’t say that?’ Jimmy pressed.

‘No, sir. It said that the portal would take us back in time on our world.’

‘Was the portal finished off because of The Brotherhood?’

‘Yes, to go back, and to defeat the Americans in 1938.’

‘Why did it take so long? And how did The Brotherhood capture it. You should have blown it up!’

‘It took many years to get the equipment correct, but there were many who argued against its use.’

‘Why?’

The man took a moment. ‘They ... did not want to admit defeat. The politicians, they argued about its use.’

‘Their arrogance got the better of them,’ Jimmy suggested, the man nodding reluctantly. ‘And then when they were losing Europe they speeded it up. So why not blow it up?’

‘We were under orders to finish it, at any cost, thousands of soldiers defending it,’ the technician reported. ‘Somehow, The Brotherhood learnt of it, and they landed aircraft nearby, sacrificing thousands to get near it. But one of our men stepped through, and we thought we had won.’

‘Who was he?’ Jimmy asked.

‘A junior technician, Peder Hassel. When we opened the portal for a test he ran towards it, through before it closed.’

‘And you figured he might alter the past.’

‘Yes, but nothing happened.’

‘He came to this world, and gave the Germans here coal-oil technology before 1938, little more.’

‘What ... what year is it here?’

‘On the world you’re now sat it’s 1938, and the Germans are losing the war because I’m helping the Americans and British.’

‘But ... but you helped us...’

‘No, I didn’t, and my name on the manual may have been put there. I come from a planet where it’s 2047, and the black soldiers you see are Africans armed with advanced weapons.’

‘My god! Africans?’

‘On your world, is The Brotherhood in Africa?’

‘Yes, they occupy Africa, but South Africa resists. We send supplies and weapons, so too the Japanese and Americans.’

‘Lobster, I want this man kept alive and sent back. We’ll try and arrange a plane if the Marines can secure an airfield. Silo out.’

Jimmy turned to face the gang, taking in the expectant faces. ‘Someone ... gave them the knowledge to finish off a portal, failed to mention parallel worlds, mentioned my name for some reason, and – most importantly – gave them the frequency of this world.’

‘Knowing that we’d be here,’ I added.

‘Someone wanted to bring that world to your attention,’ Cookie suggested.

‘And they went to great lengths to do so,’ a scientist added.

‘But why?’ Jimmy asked the gang.

‘To save that world?’ Cookie floated.

‘There are many worlds that have fallen to The Brotherhood,’ Jimmy said, his hands wide. ‘Why that one?’

Lobster reassured the prisoner, and jumped back through the portal as the first US Marine appeared at the event horizon. Through the control room, Lobster walked to the right, past bunched-up Rifles all waiting to climb a ladder. They made way for him. In the room above he found equipment, plus many whirring cooling fans, and above that a flat roof, the dawn threatening to rise soon. His men were now lying prone, firing silently at distant targets. ‘Report.’

‘We’ve killed around four hundred so far, some white men as well as Arabs.’

‘Don’t shoot the white men, we need to talk with them,’ Lobster ordered over his radio. A round pinged off the wall. ‘Is there a way down?’

‘Behind you, sir.’

Keeping low, Lobster turned around and dropped down to a lower flat roof, finding several of his men, many of those men now negotiating a ladder, occasional gunfire echoing. He could see many buildings, but they were just dark shadows at the moment, a few in the distance with their lights on within. Jumping from the ladder and landing on the ground level, Lobster walked to a corner, flanked by his men. ‘Now that they know we’re here ... we can expect reinforcements to arrive at first light.’

‘We dig in, sir?’

‘Hell, no, we move out and surprise them.’ He pressed transmit. ‘All soldiers: move out in teams of two, individual actions. Occupy any good sniper positions when you find them.’

Jimmy called a command meeting of the military, the political liaison to Gilchrist, and the representatives of the administration from this era. He laid out a map of the world. ‘Gentlemen, on the world that the portal is connected to ... we have an independent America, circa 1984, nuclear armed, an independent Japan, nuclear armed and controlling much of Asia apart from Australia and New Zealand, and a Greater Germany occupying Europe – recently overrun by The Brotherhood. Africa and the Middle East are under the control of The Brotherhood, except South Africa, which it seems is supported by all sides to fight The Brotherhood.

‘Fortunately, The Brotherhood – and those operating the portal – have no idea about parallel worlds, and the frequency of this world was deliberately given to them by a time traveller from the future – along with a manual on how to get the portal working, and my name.’

They were stunned. ‘Your name?’ the Vice President queried.

‘Yes, for what reason ... we don’t know yet. Our best guess ... is that someone from the future wanted me to go to that world, more so than this world.’

‘What’ll you do?’ the VP asked.

‘We’re being nudged towards that world for a reason,’ Jimmy explained, ‘by someone with a good working knowledge of my travels. That person, from the future, may mean well, since killing me would be easy enough. They want me - they want us, to help that world.’

‘Problem is,’ I began, ‘it’s a Cold War world, and any sudden appearance of us might cause a nuclear war.’

‘That ... is a real possibility, especially if we were seen to be taking sides,’ Jimmy agreed.

‘Why not go back to 1920 on that world?’ the Vice President asked.

‘First, it would cause a paradox on this world, one with consequences I’m not sure about. That portal is open, it has been open, and is linked to this world, and now linked to future worlds. I just don’t know what’ll happen if it had never existed. Besides, I think whoever sent us this nudge to get involved knows that. I think we’re supposed to get involved in 1984 their end. Also, I have no desire to re-do the past twenty years.’

‘Another team could go,’ the VP suggested.

‘I seriously doubt that you would get the various governments on your world to agree a team - and an agenda,’ Jimmy firmly pointed out. ‘You have agreements and laws in place, which I break and get away with. You wouldn’t.’

‘What about this world?’ a Marine officer asked. ‘We’re in the middle of a war.’

‘Yes, and that war will need to be finished, the post-war political map organised,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘That’s why I called for help; I can’t be in two places at once.’

‘We could blow the portal at their end,’ another officer suggested.

‘We could, but somewhere on that world there are a great many people who know about time travel and the portal, so they’ll be experimenting with it in the future, and if they get it to work they may just arrive back on your world in the past – completely fucking up your history and creating a paradox.’

‘Genie is out the bottle,’ I put in. ‘That world needs fixing, and then managing.’

‘Managing?’ the VP repeated. ‘A nuclear-armed Japan and Germany?’

‘Both in fear of The Brotherhood,’ Jimmy pointed out as he studied the map. ‘The enemy of my enemy...’

‘What’ll you do?’ the VP asked.

Jimmy pointed at a Marines officer. ‘Send word back. I want the German team I asked about, German Rescue Force, standing by to go – for a little hearts and minds.’

An officer approached with a data-pad. ‘That’s the frequency of the other world, sir.’

‘Let’s call it 1984 world, shall we,’ I told the man. ‘Save any confusion.’

‘Right,’ Jimmy called. ‘I want this frequency sent to Mawlini on our world, and I want the Rifles to invade, and to start to take back Africa in 1984, an act which none of the leaders on that world could argue with.’ An officer took the pad and stepped out.

‘How’ll you make contact with them?’ the VP asked.

‘There’s only one effective way to ever make contact with anyone, and that’s face to face.’

An hour later, the arrival of the Canadian Government was announced by their liaisons to us, those liaisons looking a little bewildered. We led them upstairs to the diner since the main restaurant was crammed – and very loud.

The Prime Minister himself had come to see us, flying all the way across in to us in the aircraft we had kindly supplied his government with. He also looked bewildered as he sat, drinks arranged. ‘Thanks for seeing us at ... such short notice.’

‘It’s your country,’ Jimmy reminded him. ‘And we’re just guests.’

The Prime Minster glanced at his assistants. ‘Well, we ... we’ve had a communiqué from the British Government about you, and obviously heard the speech by the American President, but ... obviously we’re still a little confused by the situation. Perhaps ... you could explain ... the situation.’

Jimmy took a moment as drinks were placed down. ‘Myself and my team, we’re time travellers and from another world. Don’t worry, we are human, we work and we pay taxes where we come from. In order to understand that, you need only consider that there exist many worlds in the universe that are almost identical to this one, and that they exist in parallel dimension – side by side. As time goes on, so a world splits and forms a carbon copy, but don’t get bogged down in the science; that’s something that you can pick-up as time goes on.

‘All you need understand ... is that there are thousands of worlds just like this one, and that we have a way to jump back and forth between them. In the future, it’s something that you may have figured out for yourself. Now, I came from a world where there had been a nuclear war -’

‘Nuclear?’ the Prime Minister queried.

‘Atom bombs,’ Jimmy explained. ‘I came from a world where many countries had developed atom bombs by the year 2010, and used them in a war, killing half the people on the planet.’

‘My god.’

‘So it was a waste ground. As a desperate measure, the American Army built a time machine, in Manson, just across the Rockies from here.’

‘That’s where these strange soldiers are appearing,’ they stated.

Jimmy nodded. ‘Those strange soldiers are our soldiers, from the future – the year 2047 – and are equipped with advanced weapons.’

‘And why are they coming here?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Jimmy said, encouraging the Canadian Government to stop interrupting. ‘After the atomic war on my world, an army rose up in the Middle East - in Arabia as you know it, and they took over that world. But the Arab army was very brutal, especially to people with white skin.’

‘Us lot,’ I put in.

Jimmy continued, ‘I travelled to the world that Paul is from, to the year 1982, and I ... altered the history on his world so that there would be no atomic war, and that this barbaric Arab army would not rise up. That world, Paul’s world, is perfectly peaceful and prosperous. As I helped them, so I came here to help this world.’

‘To stop the war,’ the Canadians realised.

‘Yes, to stop the war, but also to encourage advanced technologies, to defeat the Japanese and the Germans, and to steer this world towards peace and prosperity, but doing so in secret.’

‘But it’s not secret,’ they puzzled.

‘No, because we hit a snag,’ Jimmy explained. He glanced at me, then at the expectant faces. ‘Another group of people, on another world, have built a time machine, located in Berlin.’

‘The Germans! They have a time machine?’ The Canadians were horrified.

‘Not the Germans on this world, no. In Berlin, on this world, is the gateway, the time machine – known as a portal – is on another world, a world that’s been partly overrun by an Arab army.’ They stared back confused. ‘In Germany, over the past week or so, members of this Arab army have been invading this world.’

Now they looked horrified, shocked, terrified, and confused. ‘Invading this world?’ the Prime Minister asked in a horse whisper.

‘That was until we got involved,’ I put in. ‘We contacted our home world, and they sent super-soldiers from the future, both here – in Manson – and in Africa. We’ve dropped a parachute force onto the portal in Germany, and stopped them coming through. Right now, our lads are killing those that came through. Actually, they’re US Marines, but we’ve also sent people though the portal to the other world, to stop them from ever coming here.’

‘You can do that?’

‘Yes,’ Jimmy said with a firm smile. ‘We can ... and we will, so don’t worry.’

‘Worry? We have a population asking all sorts of odd questions, and I don’t have any answers for them.’

Jimmy offered a flat palm. ‘I’ll be making speeches, reassuring the people. Besides, now that it’s known ... we can help the people in the open and they’ll be ... very happy about it.’

‘We have drugs that will cure every disease,’ I put in.

‘Every ... disease?’

‘Yes,’ I said with an affirmative nod. ‘Tell me, how old do you think Jimmy is?’

‘Well, I’d say ... late thirties?’

‘Closer to three hundred years old,’ I said, enjoying their looks. ‘Drugs in the future allow people to live longer. When people can see the benefits of us being here, they’ll be off your case ... and on ours.’

‘My god,’ the Prime Minister let out. ‘Cures for diseases.’

‘And clever aircraft, and cars, and televisions and radios,’ I listed off. ‘The future is a nice place, and ... you could visit if you like.’

‘Visit?’

‘You could go over to Manson, step through, and spend a few days on our world before coming back,’ I explained. ‘Meet your counter-parts from our time, see how Vancouver has altered. In the meantime, pick someone – and send them for a look around.’

With the Canadian Government gone, two men volunteering for a look around the Canada of our era, Jimmy and I settled down for a late night bite to eat with Baldy.

‘This is so much easier than sneaking around,’ I commented.

‘Much,’ Baldy agreed.

‘I had considered tackling The Brotherhood ourselves, with the Rifles from here,’ Jimmy said. ‘Well, for a moment, but I realised that The Brotherhood could destroy other worlds, and I couldn’t take the chance. It would have taken us weeks to fight our way in, and a parachute drop may have been only partially successful without night sights and knock-out gas. I don’t think history would have remembered me well if I let the opportunity to seal the portal slip through my fingers.’

I faced Baldy. ‘Sykes says that the Russians have mobilised.’

He took a moment. ‘They can’t be thinking of attacking, although they may think that Germany is defeated.’ He shrugged. ‘They know what you did to the German cities, so they can’t be thinking of attacking you, so ... I think Stalin’s worried.’

‘Worried?’ I asked.

‘Worried that you’ll defeat Germany, but then keep going.’

‘That’s possible,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘He is paranoid. And he has many people in China, so he’s heard about the defeat of the Japanese army and navy already.’

‘So ... right now he knows that The West has advanced weapons,’ I thought out loud.

‘And the American President’s speech must have reached him via his ambassador’s here,’ Baldy added. ‘So he’s crapping himself. I found him hard work; he’s a sociopath, paranoid, and delusional to boot.’

‘If this was 1965 or later,’ Jimmy began, ‘I’d fear a nuclear war as a direct result of our presence. Now, well ... it’s kind of perfect timing. They’ve just gotten used to atom bombs, there’s a great deal of patriotism around in the States, and the post-war political scene is about to be set. It’s an ideal time. And I was going to reveal who we are after the war anyway, to the American Government. This is just a few weeks early.’

A Marines officer came up to us. We lifted our faces to the man. ‘Sir, we’ve secured the portal, we have a three mile zone operating, five miles to the south. Not finding many more of The Brotherhood in the last hour, but we’ve encountered German units.’

Jimmy said, ‘There’ll be members of The Brotherhood sneaking outwards, but I think the Germans may get them all, it’s just a matter of time. Tell your men not to move on central Berlin, but to kill any German soldiers they encounter, and to creep around the outskirts. Let the people in Berlin think they’re surrounded. Who’s running the show in Germany?’

‘Von Runstead, sir.’

‘Intercept his radio communications, ask him if he wants to talk about a negotiated surrender.’

‘Sir.’ The officer moved off.

Jimmy place down his knife and fork, and lifted a data-pad. ‘Computer, patch me through to Sykes.’ We waited.

‘Jimmy?’ came Sykes face and voice.

‘Did I wake you?’

‘Just got up.’

‘Go see Churchill, tell him that we’ve secured the portal, killed those of The Brotherhood we could find, and that we’re trying to negotiate a surrender with Von Runstead.’

‘You think he’ll make a deal?’ Sykes asked.

‘We’re just about to surround Berlin with US Marines,’ Jimmy pointed out. ‘He’ll believe it’s all over by tomorrow.’

‘German military radio has ten cities still ablaze, casualties in the millions,’ Sykes reported.

We all exchanged looks. Jimmy said, ‘I hope history forgives us for that, but we had to end it quickly.’

‘And Japan?’ Sykes asked.

‘I’m going to level a few cities tomorrow, a unilateral move, then start talking to them,’ Jimmy explained. ‘Let Churchill and Timkins know.’

‘The jet bombers are here, and the nukes,’ Sykes reminded us. ‘Not needed now?’

‘I hope not,’ Jimmy replied. ‘But it’s still early.’

‘What’s happening at the portal?’ Sykes asked.

Jimmy took a moment. ‘The modern era Rifles have secured it at the far end, even got a technician out and I spoke to him, a German technician.’

‘German?’

‘The Germans from that world won the Second World War.’

‘Bloody hell. I won’t be mentioning that to Churchill!’

‘Let me do that,’ Jimmy suggested.

‘So how come The Brotherhood are using that portal?’ Sykes asked.

‘They overran the Middle East on that world, captured Germany – and the portal. On that world there’s a Cold War between what they call Greater Germany in Europe, America and Japan, all nuclear armed.’

‘Was it post-apocalyptic?’ Sykes puzzled.

‘No, but as we speak they’re all tooled up ready to fight a nuclear war, yet haven’t for some reason. Cold War stand-off.’

‘What a scenario,’ Sykes noted. ‘Americans over there must be rubbing their hands as The Brotherhood take Europe.’

‘If only they think they’re not next,’ I said towards the data-pad.

‘Quite,’ Sykes agreed.

‘Get Churchill to call in six hours, using your data-pad,’ Jimmy requested. ‘But how’re the public there taking it, the news about us?’

‘Bloody delighted, because they all think you ended the war,’ Sykes reported.

‘Do me a favour: ask Churchill to chat to the Russian Ambassador, find out what’s on their minds.’

‘Will do.’

Jimmy touched the screen and ended the call. ‘At least we’re popular there.’

‘Probably be a similar reaction here,’ I noted. ‘We did end the war quickly.’

I checked in on the kids before bed, and snuggled up to Susan.

‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

‘We’ve taken the portal, and it doesn’t look like The Brotherhood have been anywhere else.’

‘Oh, good. But ... will we ... stay here now?’

‘I don’t see why not; I’m not planning on rushing back to my era. But I think Jimmy is interested in going to the world where The Brotherhood came from.’

‘Why?’ Susan puzzled.

‘They have a time machine, and we can’t un-invent it. He’s worried about them, what they may do in the future.’

‘Could go back to 1920 on that world...’

‘Jimmy’s not sure if that’ll create a paradox here; that world has affected this one. Fact is ... we just don’t know what would happen. Not a bloody clue. Anyway, not trying to get rid of me, are you?’

‘No, don’t be silly. But ... things will be different now.’

‘We’re popular in Britain, so maybe we’ll live there a while. If we can teach Toby to pee and actually hit the bowl, they may let us stay.’

London, 1984

Chancellor Schmidt, sat now in his grey military uniform, waved forwards a junior officer as he ate his breakfast. ‘Yes?’ he said as he ran a hand over his shortly cropped grey hair.

‘A strange report, Chancellor. A ... very strange report, from Berlin.’

The Chancellor paused. ‘Yes?’

‘We had a call on a radio, from a technician that was captured, the man claiming to have worked on the time machine.’

The Chancellor stiffened. ‘He escaped from captivity?’

‘He was released, along with the others, by black soldiers, African soldiers. He ... was working the machine recently, sir.’

‘Working the machine?’ the Chancellor repeated in a whisper. Louder, he said, ‘It was ordered destroyed, at any cost!’

‘It would appear that those orders were ... disobeyed, sir,’ the officer timidly suggested.

‘It is a good job that General Hest is already dead,’ the Chancellor stated with venom. ‘Or I would hang him slowly myself. That fool lost the Fatherland to a group of rag-bag peasant farmers!’

The junior officer waited, his head lowered.

‘What else?’ the Chancellor barked.

‘The technician reports that ... that the African soldiers, they are ... from the future, sir.’

The Chancellor was on his feet. ‘What?’

‘The African soldiers, they ... they’re killing the Arab fighters using strange weapons. They are silent when fired, and afterwards the Arabs appear burnt.’

The Chancellor sat, deep in though. ‘Send an aircraft, try and verify what is happening around the machine. Take pictures.’

‘Yes, sir. And ... there is news from Moscow, sir.’

The Chancellor tried to compose himself. ‘Go ahead.’

‘The communists have reached the centre of the city, sir.’

The Chancellor took a moment. ‘Thank you. Dismissed.’

1938

In the morning, I sat down next to the US Marines General. ‘Anything happened overnight?’

‘We dropped another four hundred Rifles at the portal, and five hundred Marines.’

‘And the fighting?’

‘No sight of The Brotherhood, no live ones at least,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Rifles have gone through the portal with a group of volunteer technicians. Initial reports confirm that the portal has only one setting, hard-wired in; they can dial here only. Oh, we captured an airfield, that prisoner is on his way here.’

‘Here?’

‘Here ... direct, refuelling in Nova Scotia.’ He took a moment. ‘Can I ask ... why Mister Silo hasn’t ordered the portal blown? We know they didn’t go anywhere else.’

‘You can’t un-invent it,’ I said. ‘Someone over there may know the details, and may build another one years later. There’s only one way to be sure.’

The General lifted his eyebrows. ‘The only way to be sure ... is to take that world and hold it – forever!’

I now lifted my own eyebrows, and nodded.

Jimmy approached. ‘I forgot about the Rifles in Africa,’ he mentioned.

‘They’re attacking Italy,’ I said with a frown.

‘I have another use for them,’ Jimmy explained. He faced an officer. ‘Get me the senior Rifles officer at Mawlini.’

A pad was handed over. ‘Colonel Ngomo, here, sir.’

Jimmy smiled widely. ‘You’re not as ugly as your father. You must take after your mother.’

Colonel Ngomo smiled widely. ‘Yes, sir.’

‘Listen, I don’t need many Rifles here, this world, so stop them coming through, and keep most at Mawlini. How many do you have with you?’

‘About four thousand so far, sir.’

‘That’s enough for here, halt them. I’ll want the main body to go to another world, and to an Africa overrun by The Brotherhood; we should have the frequency by now.’

‘Yes, sir, we have it ... and sent it back to our world.’

‘Send Rescue Force to Mawlini on that world, and the reconstruction team volunteers, and get them to work outwards from Mawlini. Your primary task is to penetrate through Somalia as fast as possible, and to attack Saudi Arabia. That will draw the fighters back home.’

‘The technique used by Mister Paul,’ Colonel Ngomo noted. ‘I read his report recently.’

‘I’ll need you to draw the fighters down from Europe, so give them something to think about. But keep everyone spread out, there may be nuclear weapons used.’

‘I will do, sir.’

‘Is your father there?’

‘Yes, sir, he’s organising the camp with Mister Mac, the supplies and trains.’

‘Ask him to call me later. Silo out.’

‘Sir?’ an officer called, Jimmy turning. ‘A message from NASA on our world, sir: the egg-heads can’t figure a way to jam a portal signal. At least, not till it’s been open a while.’

‘How much of a while?’ Jimmy testily asked.

‘Days or weeks, sir.’

Jimmy faced me and rolled his eyes. ‘Sometimes, you just have to do it the hard way.’

‘You promised we’d make a speech,’ I reminded Jimmy.

He nodded as he thought. ‘Seattle, 3pm. Give the Press the heads-up.’

The Marines General put in, ‘There’s Press down the road, apparently, some barrier.’

Jimmy faced a communications officer. ‘Could you isolate the various radio frequencies used around North America and Canada, and broadcast to them from a pad?’

‘Yes, sir, it’s easy now that we have a drone over Dallas, one over the eastern sea-board, and one of the west coast.’

‘Do it.’ He faced me. ‘3pm, but let the Press know that we’ll broadcast on most frequencies.’

An officer approached with a data-pad. ‘Paul Baines, sir.’

Jimmy took the pad, and I closed in. ‘Big Paul?’ Jimmy asked.

‘Japs are retreating, some even surrendering,’ Big Paul reported.

The Vice President from our era closed in, as if we may be up to no good.

‘Do you have an estimate of casualties and dead on their side?’ Jimmy asked Big Paul.

‘Two hundred thousand dead here, don’t know what the figures are elsewhere.’

‘I do,’ the General cut in with. ‘We estimate eighty thousand dead in the Philippines, twenty thousand in Manchuria, ten thousand at sea.’

Jimmy considered that, then faced Big Paul’s image. ‘Cease fire, pull back. But destroy all Japanese hardware and weapons where you can. Ground the aircraft.’

The VP asked, ‘Will the Japanese here surrender?’

Jimmy faced the VP as he lowered the data-pad. ‘Our bombers took off at dawn, and they’ll hit ten or more Japanese cities with fuel-air explosives, no doubt setting them alight. And tomorrow ... tomorrow we’ll try and talk with them.’

‘And the communists in China?’ the VP asked.

‘Will take China, and repeat history,’ Jimmy said. ‘But with a little guidance from us. And for the record, they killed more Japs than we did.’

The VP took a moment. ‘They also, apparently, know your name ... and that you supplied the weapons.’ He made it sound like a complaint.

‘Which strengthens my hand when I sit down to talk to them,’ Jimmy said with a false smile. ‘Now, for the record, I aim to continue to develop this world as I started, and that does not include anyone altering my plans. I called you here to try and ease the nerves of the administration here during what will be a tough time of adjustment. After that adjustment, I aim to guide this world with my team.’

The VP forced a reluctant smile, and sloped off.

1984

Lobster peered across a field using his rifle, magnifying distant images. Lowering his weapon, his faced his adjutant. ‘They’re armoured personal carriers, a bit like the old Russian carriers we used to have. Hit the drivers when they get close, blind them, burn the rubber on the wheels. When the rubber burns, the men in the back will not want to cook.’

‘Sir!’ a man called.

Lobster turned, the man pointing skyward. They all watched as a con-trail arced across the sky. ‘Someone is having a look, to see who we are,’ Lobster noted.

‘The Germans?’

‘Probably,’ Lobster suggested. ‘The technician said that England was not captured, and Paris was the front line. And here, some of the Arabs fight like conventional soldiers.’ He pointed at the distant armoured personnel carriers. ‘They use armour and trucks.’

‘Colonel Nbeki, sir?’ came through Lobster’s earpiece.

‘Go ahead.’

‘We have an Arab fighter, an officer of some sort, and he’s talking.’

‘I’ll be right there,’ Lobster offered, easing up, but ducking his head and running bent-over with the others.

1938

Jimmy read the report from Lobster. When finished, he lifted his gaze to me and Baldy. ‘They caught and interrogated a senior fighter. It seems that the Germans captured Moscow during their Second World War, but not Siberia. The Japs took Vladivostok, but never moved off the coast. So Siberian communists thrived, joined Chinese communists, and on that world the Japs lost mainland China a few years back. The Arabs have been buying weapons from the Russians and the Chinese, as well as having them donated. That includes chemical and biological weapons, no nukes by the look of it.’

I said, ‘The Russians armed them so that they’d attack the Germans.’

‘It gets better,’ Jimmy said with a wry smile. ‘Until a year or two ago, the Americans armed them in secret as well.’

‘The Americans arming The Brotherhood,’ Baldy said, shaking his head. ‘That is sooo wrong.’

I said, ‘The enemy of my enemy.’

‘Question is,’ Baldy began. ‘Who can we deal with over there? If we help the Americans, and they defeat the Germans, then The Brotherhood have all of Europe.’

‘On my original world,’ Jimmy began, ‘the Brotherhood got themselves organised after a few years, even had a political structure, and they got the lights on in a few European towns, airliners repaired and working. After all these years of fighting the Germans they may have some political structures in place on that world.’

‘You’d talk to them?’ I puzzled.

‘Hell no, but if they have a centre then that centre can be nuked,’ Jimmy suggested. ‘That temporary paralysis will help.’

‘Sounds like the communists are making use of the opportunity,’ I pointed out.

Jimmy took a big breath. ‘Yes. Unfortunately, that world has three wars ongoing ... and a Cold War. A hell of a mess.’

‘How will they react to the Rifles?’ I thought out loud.

‘They won’t,’ Baldy insisted. ‘Not for weeks or months. They’ll think it a factional fight within the ranks of the fighters. By then we’ll be established.’

‘Why haven’t the Germans nuked The Brotherhood?’ I asked.

‘They did,’ Jimmy reported. ‘According to the guy who’s talking, the Germans nuked most Arab cities, but stopped short of using nukes in Europe.’

‘Hoping to re-take it at some point,’ Baldy suggested, Jimmy nodding.

At 3pm, we found a quiet place from which to make the broadcast, the comms officer having linked a pad up to transmit, and he boosted the signal with a portable generator. The press had been tipped-off, and the radio stations had in turn notified their listeners about the big speech at 3pm.

Jimmy tapped the screen, a message indicating that he was live, and what the signal strength was. ‘People of America, people of Canada, and those listening to this broadcast: my name is Jimmy Silo, and many of you will have questions - and a few concerns no doubt. The President has already informed you of who I am, who I really am, and what I and my team are here for.

‘Let me start by reassuring you all that we are normal people just like you. We have families, we go to sleep at night, and we drink coffee like regular Joes. The difference is ... that we’re from another time - we’re from the future, a future where there are no wars, no famine, and no disease.

‘We came here, to this time, to help you through the dark and difficult years of the war, to provide you with advanced weapons to win that war, and to bring that war to an end quickly – and with the minimum number of casualties. I can confirm that we assisted the British and American governments to develop what’s known as an atomic bomb, a bomb so powerful that just one of them could destroy Tokyo or Berlin.

‘But we have held off using those bombs in favour of other weapons, since using those bombs would kill a great many people, including innocent civilians, something that history may judge us harshly for. I can report, today, that German cities have been hit with special bombs, and that most major German cities have been destroyed or badly damaged, the German Army in retreat and disarray. I can also report today ... that our bombers are striking Japanese cities as I speak to you, and that we expect a surrender of both Germany and Japan within a few days.

‘But these victories are but milestones along the road, the long road of history. There may be other wars in the future, more terrible wars, the outbreak of disease and plague, earthquakes and floods. We are here ... to help guide you through those problems, and to help you. We did not just bring weapons from the future, we brought medicines that will cure every disease, and bring people back from the edge of death.

‘We can also offer you advanced technology that will convert coal into oil, and show you ways to make cars that will run on electricity. When this war is over, a new age will dawn, an age of rapid advancement of ideas and of technology, a rapid advancement of medicine, and hopefully a period of world peace.

‘Some of you will have already seen strangely dressed soldiers in parts of Canada and America. These are our soldiers from the future, and they come to assist you in the defeat of Germany and Japan. Once that job is done, those soldiers will be leaving; no one need fear them, they’re US Marines – people with families back home that they wish to return to.

‘In the months and years ahead we’ll be creating a new body called the United Nations, a league of all countries working together, its aim being to try to prevent further wars and disputes. Here, in Canada, there are politicians from the future who have come to visit, and to offer your politicians advice. Some of you may even get to visit the future, to visit the wonders of that future.

‘From the dark days of this war, a new dawn has arrived for the people of this world, and the hope of something better, a better future, a future without conflict. No-one need fear the future, or the people from that future, we’re people just like you, our aim being to bring peace and prosperity to the world – and to all nations of the world.’

Jimmy glanced at me. ‘With us, here in Canada, are many Negroes from the future, scientists who have been developing the atomic bomb. In the future, Negroes are well-educated, they’re doctors and scientists, teachers and police officers.’

I grinned.

Jimmy finished with, ‘I will address you again in the weeks ahead, and will hopefully have good news, news of an end to the war, and the start of rebuilding. I’m Jimmy Silo, thank you for listening.’ He touched the screen to cut the transmission.

‘You just gave hope to all the Negroes here,’ I said. ‘But that’ll piss off the white folk down in Alabama.’

Baldy said, ‘US President will be pissed. Did he OK the broadcast?’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘Like I said, he’ll be pissed.’

‘Not least because you just took most of his powers away from him,’ I added. ‘Especially with advanced medicines.’

‘I’m laying the ground work for the next few decades,’ Jimmy said. ‘So far it’s been straight forward enough, but it will get tougher, especially with the nice men in the White House.’

London, 1984

The Chancellor lowered a file, waving a waiting officer forwards. ‘Report.’

‘The aerial photographs confirm many Arab fighters dead around the southwest of Berlin, or concentrations of fighters moving to that area, and of men with strange weapons on the ground.’

The Chancellor eased back, a heavy frown taking hold.

1938

Little more than an hour after Jimmy’s speech, we had a visit from another Vice President, this time from 1938, the man having just popped through the portal in Manson, and back to our world for a quick two-hour visit. Arriving back in Trophy, he had caught the speech.

I welcomed him into the diner, drinks organised for him and his two colleagues. He got straight to the point. ‘We have concerns about educated Negroes.’

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were elected to represent all of the people, and Negroes vote and pay tax.’ I waited.

‘We’re a progressive government,’ the VP insisted, ‘but there are those ... who are less progressive.’

‘Like the south.’

‘Like the south, yes,’ the VP confirmed. ‘There could be ... civil unrest.’

‘Civil unrest ... because in the future the arrogant bigots in your south have to face up to well-educated and well-behaved Negroes? Just think how’d they react when they find out that we had a black President.’

‘A ... black President?’ the VP and his team looked sceptical.

‘Yes, a black President, and a Hispanic,’ I reported, enjoying their looks. ‘By time we get to 2025, almost a third of your great nation is Hispanic. They pour across a poorly guarded border ... and take jobs off the white folk.’

The VP glanced at his team. ‘And ... if we did something about the border?’

‘We’d say that it was a good idea.’

‘You would?’

‘Yes. Just because it’s the future, doesn’t mean that it shouldn’t be altered – and improved. Why do you think we’re here? Why don’t you find your counter-part from my era, and ask him all about immigration and long-term economics.’

They got up, and went off to do just that.

I went and found Jimmy, ‘I just tightened up the Mexican border for the next fifty years.’

‘Good.’

‘But we’ve had a complaint already; present-day administration is unhappy about mention of educated blacks.’

Jimmy sighed. ‘The treatment of American blacks in the south is a national disgrace, now and for the next sixty years or more. So don’t be shy, mix it up a bit.’

‘They may want to shoot us,’ I toyed.

‘We’re here to change things, not endorse them,’ Jimmy insisted. ‘Oh, planes are back from Japan. Last two circled for an hour, reported that ten cities were well alight.’

‘Given how their houses are made, the casualties will be ... high.’

Jimmy made a face. ‘We’ve already broken that egg; just focus on the final outcome. Still, tomorrow ... the US President will sit down with the Japanese Ambassador.’

‘Peace in our time?’

Nothing came from Germany the next day, the retreating Germans harassed at every turn. In Washington, the US President sat down with the Japanese Ambassador, and formally asked – if not insisted – that Japan surrender, or be wiped out. The Japanese Ambassador politely rejected the request.

By noon, it was clear that neither the Germans nor the Japanese were ready to talk, and I was tempted to stick a nuke up someone’s backside. Frustrated, I concentrated on the fighting in Europe, reading paper reports from London. So far, none of our people in London had been exposed as travellers, Churchill waiting for the right moment – and greatly embarrassed about having to admit that a member of his War Cabinet was from another world.

Churchill had been busy though, landing soldiers in Denmark, additional units landed in Antwerp – and in daylight, the Luftwaffe only glimpsed these days. German prisoners now numbered almost two hundred thousand, the French creating camps for them, a new French Government already being formed with provisional leaders. Since we had arranged for De Gaulle to meet with an accident, he was nowhere to be seen, and would not go on to upset future generations of British and American leaders.

East of Paris, Germans were being massacred as they tried to either leave, or to surrender. The American Brigade was moving rapidly north, their numbers swollen by keen Frenchmen, keen to have a go at the Germans. Neither the men of the American Brigade nor their travelling companions were keen to take prisoners, and a dark stain in history would need a little re-working later on, a few German units killed to a man after surrendering.

Around Brussels, the roads were impassable unless on foot, and German units west and south of Paris had been made aware of that. Alternate routes were sought, but each night more soldiers slipped away to surrender. Advancing America units were making good progress in the south, hindered mostly by taking prisoners. The British and French Brigades had broken out of Brest at long last, and were keenly pursuing the Germans across Normandy.

In Italy, the advanced American units were ‘On holiday’, as the men put it, few shots fired in anger. They were moving north towards Rome at speed, few German units wishing to fight. What we didn’t realise at the time, was that all German units had been ordered back to their own borders. In central Italy, the mobile Rifles units attacked the occasional German unit, those German units in retreat for the most part, and had passed Rome. Fighting on the east coast had been fierce, the German armour there having been told to stand fast whilst other German units withdrew. Our tanks were now level with Rome and making good progress, little opposition found.

Around Berlin, German commanders were coming to grips with the new reality of not facing Arab fighters, but Americans, not that many Marines had been seen or identified. German command officers were now receiving reports of people just dropping dead, small holes noticed in their skin, holes that smoked. Others had dropped dead with their hair or uniforms on fire. And they were dropping dead in their thousands, whole German units being wiped out, a half-circle now in place around Berlin, a half-circle of death.

In a move of sheer frustration, and not co-ordinated with us, Churchill ordered a daylight raid on Berlin, a high-altitude raid on the centre of the city. The RAF loaded a type of bomb they had not used before, a mix-up in communications, and the centre of Berlin was showered in fuse-delayed bomblets around 4pm that day. The net effect of the raid would be that central Berlin would be a no-go zone for a few days, the German citizens and soldiers subject to thousands of bomblets waiting to go off. On top of that, a few hundred Arab fighters had survived, and were now making their presence felt in the German capital.

1984

A long way off through time and space, Lobster was sat chatting to a German technician that spoke good English, a donated tin of meat being tackled by the technician. Now that the technician knew that he would not be harmed, and giddy with excitement at the prospect of travel to other world, the man was keen to chat.

Seems that there was a nuclear reactor under the portal, one that was self-contained – more or less. Lobster discovered that a German General, named Hest, had faith in the time machine, and had stayed behind with a small army after being ordered to leave - and ordered to blow the nuclear reactor. He didn’t, he tried to get it to work, right up to the point that a force of some three thousand of the best of the Arab fighters had descended on the area.

The Brotherhood’s leadership, what it was, had found out about the time machine, and decided that they wanted it. They were under the impression that the Germans – especially their leadership – had escaped through time to a safe place, temporal logic aside. Having captured the portal facility, whilst keeping as many technicians alive as they could, the Brotherhood then systematically sliced-up technicians till the workforce agreed to continue the research. After all, the technicians had a secret plan.

The German portal technicians had worked on the machine in the knowledge that as soon as it was working they’d jump through. Having a better understanding of temporal mechanics, they figured that they would alter history, and that the portal would have never been built. Paradoxes aside, they held to their plan and plotted in secret late at night, as keen as The Brotherhood to see the portal work.

They had managed to open a portal once before, the junior technician bravely jumping through. But after the world had continued, and not disappeared in a puff of smoke, they figured that something was not right. Turns out that the power was a little dodgy, and that all they needed to do was to alter the power frequency and ramp up the juice a bit.

On the big day they over-powered two guards, switched on and jumped through, finding German soldiers in uniform the other end. Having explained who they were, rather desperately, the German soldiers locked them up like nutcases. The Brotherhood’s guards regained control, and now that the portal was open killed many of the technicians. Fighters started to pour through, more called up. Those technicians that remained were held captive, fed, but watched closely. The portal had been open two weeks just about, and some eleven thousand fighters had jumped through, most killed at the hands of the German Army, an infantry division conveniently located nearby.

It also turned out that The Brotherhood were just about to bring up chemical weapons, as well as more explosives and RPGs. There was even talk of them taking Uranium rods from the nuclear power plant through, to try and create a big bang on the other side, the technician not sure what would have happened when unstable fissile material went through a time portal.

Now, Lobster asked the technicians nicely if they would keep the nuclear plant going, and the portal open. He explained that his men would destroy The Brotherhood, and was careful not to offer an opinion about the German master race. A few historical facts were stretched and distorted, Mister Silo reported to be a German sympathiser. That crafty lie would benefit us.

The Chancellor of Greater Germany – although it was now on its arse and not so great, received additional radio messages from technicians and aerial confirmation. And yes, this man Silo – the one who had sent details of the portal, was sending soldiers to fight The Brotherhood. They were black, but they were OK.

In a few short days, Lobster’s men had massacred most of the fighters within a thirty mile radius, right into the centre of Berlin, although the citadel of the master race would need a paint job and a touch up if the Chancellor wished to re-occupy it. Seems that the Arab fighters had defaced a few statues, here and there. As a direct result of the local fighting, the fighters radios jammed by the Rifles, more fighters had been sent to the area. Lobster was now surrounded by two hundred thousand fighters, and he had less than five hundred men. What he did have, however, was technology.

Drone aircraft had been carried through the portal in pieces after those same drones had landed nearby, flown up from Mawlini. Re-assembled, they took off, getting power from the sun, and sought out enemy fighters. On the roof of the portal housing, members of the Rifles - now sat in full-face helmets - played a computer game, their special gloves directing the drones with slight movements of the hand. Appearing demented from the outside, but actually inside a virtual world, the Rifles were directing laser fire down onto individuals up to forty miles away. Low power settings were used to blind fighters looking up at the drone, well-targeted head-shots used to kill group leaders.

When feeling cheeky, and when the opportunity arrived, shots were aimed at RPGs being carried, setting them off. With the sun out on this hot day, full batteries meant that many fighters could be targeted, most having no idea what was about to blind or to kill them.

And in Kenya, the regional commanders of The Brotherhood had no idea what horror was about to emerge from the deserts.

Part 9A