Magestic 2, p.101
Magestic 2, page 101
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 he quickly 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 as one, their thermal sights relaying the positions of their colleagues, and they crossed a main road – a new German autobahn, the bodies of long-dead German soldiers briefly examined, the stench filling the air. A small wood was slowly negotiated, a dozen fighters killed, bodies both 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 still stepping through and 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 now 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 electrical 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 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.
