Our friend Dr. Darkness understands it. Hell, he could probably teach the course in his sleep. I wish to hell there was some way of getting in touch with him so we could ask him about this. Let me try to follow it through with you. Assume that some action originating in our time, in the 27th century, kicked off a chain of events that led to the disruption. For the sake of argument, let’s set up a simple hypothesis. Say somebody clocked out to Minus Time, to this scenario, on the day before we went in for our mission programming. And let’s say that someone killed Churchill.”
“You’d have a paradoxical situation which would have to be resolved by a disruption,” Andre said.
“Right. Up until that someone clocked out to the past in order to cause the disruption, that is, killing Churchill, there was no disruption and Churchill was part of our history. If we assume that the disruption wasn’t massive enough to overcome temporal inertia —and frankly, I don’t see how Churchill’s death wouldn’t qualify as a disruption massive enough to cause a timestream split—then temporal inertia wouldn’t be overcome. It would simply be affected significantly. You remember the analogy Delaney used, the timestream seen as a river? The river has a current, and that current is temporal inertia. An act that’s insignificant, that is, not historically disruptive enough to affect the timeflow, is like tossing a small pebble into the river. The current or the inertia overcomes any possible effect. You wouldn’t see any ripples from where you tossed the pebble in. Next, take a large rock and toss it in. The rock has mass sufficient enough to affect the current, if only temporarily. You’ll see the splash, perhaps a very brief rippling effect, and then the force of the current eliminates it or compensates for it. Now take a huge, behemoth boulder—something the size of one of these damn mountains—and toss it in the river. The effect of the current is overcome. It either dams up the river somehow, or more likely, splits the flow—creating a timestream split. The river comes back together again on the other side and you have both effects working one against the other. A historical timeline in which Churchill died and one in which he didn’t. Nobody knows how the hell that would resolve itself. It would either create a parallel universe or screw up the future six ways from Sunday. Trying to work out the possibilities has driven more than one scientist right off the deep end. Whatever it is that’s happened back here—or, from where we stand now, is about to happen—has affected the timestream to the point that we have no historical knowledge of Churchill. It wasn’t in the mission programming because the programming session took place after whatever event it was that originated in our time affected history in this time.”
Andre shook her head. “That doesn’t work,” she said.
Lucas frowned. “Why not?”
“Granted,” Andre said, “the information could be missing from my subknowledge because my implant education took place fairly recently, relatively speaking. But when did you get your implant education?”
“Why … when I enlisted, of course. But I still don’t see what that has …” His voice trailed off.
“Uh-huh,” said Andre. “When did you take up reading history as a hobby?”
“Not until well after I enlisted,” Lucas said. “Damn! I shouldn’t remember anything about Churchill either. But why do I?”
“I’d say we’ve got ourselves a real problem,” Andre said.
“To which no solution can possibly exist,” said Lucas, “because the problem can’t exist. Only it does.”
“Maybe Finn will have an answer,” she said hopefully.
“Which brings up another question,” Lucas said. “Will Finn remember anything about Winston Churchill?”
“What are you getting at?” said Andre.
“Suppose he doesn’t?” Lucas said.
“Okay, so suppose that. What of it?”
“If Finn doesn’t have any subknowledge of Churchill, then the whole explanation works, except in that case, I’ll be the anomaly.”
“I still don’t see your point.”
“Remember our hypothesis. What if something I’m about to do—or something I’ve already done—is the cause of the disruption?” He bit his lower lip. “Jesus, what if I’m the guy who’s going to kill Churchill?”
Chapter 5
Their arrival at the Malakand was like an entrance through the doors of Hell. The troops of the garrison were worn out from fighting. Many were wounded. Many had been killed. The broken ground was littered everywhere with bodies, far too numerous for the burial details to dispose of, even if they’d had the time. The lizards and the carrion birds were feasting.
The fort itself was situated on a hill overlooking the depression known as The Crater. The position of the garrison had been spread out when the attack commenced on the twenty-sixth of July. Malakand Post, the fort itself, was in a virtually impregnable spot, but its surroundings were its weak point. To the north-north-east of the fort was The Crater, where the largest concentration of buildings stood. There was the bazaar, which now stood ruined and blackened from flames; the commissariat; the brigade offices and the mess, on a rise overlooking the depression; and an area known as Gretna Green, site of the quarters of the 45th Sikhs. To the north of the depression was a giant rock formation known as Gibraltar Tower, which was in the hands of the enemy tribesmen, who possessed superior firing position from its heights. West of the depression was a water-filled nullah. Across the nullah, through the rocks and to the north-north west, was North Camp. The camel and transport lines were there, as well as Camp Malakand, the site of Number 8 Mountain Battery, the 31st Punjab Infantry, and a large detachment of the 11th Bengal Lancers. Back across the nullah, to the southwest of the fort, was the 24th Punjab infantry. Communications between North Camp and the Malakand Post were by telegraph. Two roads, separated by rock formations, ran parallel cast of the fort to Dargai—the graded road, and the older Buddhist Road.
The officers of the fort had just returned from their game of polo when the garrison at Chakdarra telegraphed that they were under attack by a large force of Pathans. A moment later the wire was cut. The officers were still in their polo kit when the attack came.
A handful of men under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel McRae of the 45th Sikhs immediately ran to hold off the enemy’s advance down the Buddhist Road until the camp could mobilise and reinforce them. They held a position at a point where the road took a sharp curve through a narrow pass. There they re-enacted the stand of the Three Hundred Spartans. McRae’s men kept up a steady stream of fire at an even more steady and seemingly unceasing stream of Ghazis, buying the garrison valuable time in which to organise. McRae was wounded, but he held on until nightfall. The enemy pulled back.
At the fort General Meiklejohn could see the glow of star shells from North Camp, which told him that an attack was under way there as well. More tribesmen were pressing in along the graded road, and the 24th was hotly engaged. Tribesmen commanded the heights of the Gibraltar Tower and kept up a constant sniping at the troops below while the infantry attempted to beat back the rushing advance of hundreds of fanatical swordsmen. Meiklejohn rushed from the fort, and at great peril to his life, kept moving from point to point to direct the defensive actions.
Wild fighting took place in the bazaar, a struggle of sword against bayonet as the tribesmen poured through, driving the soldiers back and capturing a large part of the ammunition reserves. Attacks continued along the high ground of the Buddhist Road and from the rocks all around. Regular fire from the rim of the depression resulted in heavy losses.
North Camp was evacuated at the first opportunity and a cavalry detachment sent to reinforce Chakdarra. Miraculously, they got through by criss-crossing the nullah while under heavy fire. Lack of proper transport caused the officers and men of North Camp to leave almost all of their possessions behind. That night the glow of flames from the north gave testimony to the looting and destruction that commenced as soon as they had left.
Continued massed attacks made it impossible for the pickets to hold their lines. They were forced to pull back to the fort, there to strengthen their defences as much as possible by levelling the bazaar and many of the outlying buildings to cut down on the enemy’s opportunities for concealment. Open lines of fire were exposed and bonfires built to illuminate the enemy’s approach at night.
There was little respite. By the time the detachment of lancers Delaney rode with had arrived, the Malakand garrison had sustained heavy casualties. Three British officers were killed, ten severely wounded. Seven native officers had died, amounting to a total of twenty senior officers killed. The total losses of officers, both British and native, as well as non-commissioned officers and enlisted men, stood at 153 killed and wounded.
All around upon the hills, Delaney could see the white dots that were the white-robed Ghazis moving about. There were dozens upon dozens of tribal banners, as well as the black flags of the jehad. As night came, the cliffs all around them glowed with the light of several hundred campfires.