by Bob Mayer
Eagle frowned. “So it worked?”
“It wouldn’t have worked if the officers had actually rebelled,” Dane said. “It was a very dangerous situation. On 15 March, Washington gave a speech. The Newburgh Address. It stopped the mutiny.”
“I’ve got the original transcript!” Edith’s excitement filled the room. The transcript was encased in plastic and she handed it to Eagle. Everyone waited while he read it through.
“Intriguing wording,” Eagle said when was done. “Quite brilliant.” He handed the two documents back to Edith. “I see why this is so important. But am I going back as a freedman or a slave? If it’s the latter, and the way I’m outfitted suggests that, then what could I possibly do?”
“You’ll figure it out.” Dane was already moving on, leaving Eagle fuming.
15 March 1493 A.D.—Palos de la Frontera, Spain
“Christopher Columbus arrives back in Spain,” Dane said, “via a two week detour in Portugal, which was a matter of some concern, given King John of Portugal hadn’t financed his expedition. On 15 March, he arrives at Palos de la Frontera, Spain, the small port town where he’d spent seven years trying to get the funding for the mission and from which he departed for the New World. That day he forwards his official report to Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand and the Pope. That is the document, which sets in motion what will happen to the New World he’s discovered. People all across Europe and especially the Vatican, used it as the prompt for the future.”
“Thought the Vikings were there first,” Roland said.
“The Vikings were like you,” Mac said. “They didn’t write a report.”
“Actually,” Edith said. “That’s true. Knowledge that isn’t disseminated dies with time. Columbus’ report, especially after it was printed and widely read, opened the gate for European exploration and colonization of the Americas.”
“Genocide of the indigenous population,” Eagle said.
“Okay,” Mac said. “And what could be the problem? Columbus already found the New World. He’s back. Everyone on his ships knows where they went.”
“That’s what you have to find out,” Dane said.
“Thanks,” Mac muttered. Then he tapped his chest. “What’s with the outfit?”
Edith answered. “Devotio Modema. Modern Devotion. A call for religious reform.”
“So I’m a modern devoted monk?”
“Not exactly,” Edith said. “Devotio Modema was actually a rather unique movement. On one hand, it wanted to go back to the basics. A life emphasizing humility, obedience and simplicity.”
“Picked wrong guy for that,” Roland said, scoring one for the Vikings.
Edith faltered, but then pressed on. “But it was also very progressive for its time. You’re dressed as most monks were at the time, but the cross on your belt is different. Not a crucifix, not metal, just a simple wooden cross that each member made themselves. And lay people could be part of it. Men and women. Actually, it gave a space for women, which was almost unprecedented at that era. And—”
“Enough.” Dane cut her off. “He’ll get all that information and more in the download.” Dane began writing the fourth year on the chalkboard.
Moms and Eagle exchanged glances, concerned about Dane’s abruptness.
15 March 493 A.D. RAVENNA, ITALY
Dane tapped the chalk on the line. “The last year for the first King of Italy, Odoacer. The man to whom the final Emperor of the Western Roman Empire, Romulus Augustus, surrendered his crown.”
Edith spoke up. “By normal historical convention the end of the Roman Empire was that event between Odoacer and Romulus Augustus in 476. Odoacer negotiated with the Byzantium Emperor, Zeno, who granted him what remained of the Western Empire as his fiefdom. But when Odoacer didn’t completely bend to Zeno’s control, he sent the Ostrogoth King, Theodoric, to handle it. Legend is that Theodoric betrayed Odoacer at a banquet where they were to work out how to rule jointly, then cut him in half.”
“That’s symbolism,” Eagle said.
“Nice guy,” Roland said.
“That change of power was significant.” Edith said. “Odoacer at least paid lip service to a Roman Empire. Theodoric shifted that emphasis to Italy. He also began consolidating all the various Goth tribes, including the Visigoths who had sacked Rome earlier.”
“Okay,” Roland said. “And?”
Dane spread his hands.
“Why am I going to this Ravenna place?” Roland asked. “Shouldn’t it be Rome?”
Edith shook her head. “Odoacer moved his capitol to Ravenna. Interestingly,” she added, looking at Moms, “that’s the city where Caesar made his decision to cross the Rubicon half a century earlier.”
“’The vicissitudes of fortune’” Eagle quoted, “’which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which buries empires and cities in a common grave’.”
“The Decline and fall of the Roman Empire,” Edith said admiringly. “Edward Gibbon.”
“Love at first quote,” Mac said, in a very low voice, but Scout still gave him a look.
Edith didn’t notice. “Gibbon blamed Christianity a great deal for the fall of the Roman Empire. His major objection was its intolerance to other faiths, an implicit Roman policy that allowed their Empire to last so long and cover so many different cultures and faiths. Once Emperor Constantine converted to Christianity, the foundation of the Western Roman Empire began to erode. But he also established Constantinople, which would lead to the Empire splitting into east and west.”
“Gibbon had a valid point,” Eagle said. “Intolerance for those who worshipped differently began to spread. Anti-Semitism and—”
Dane cleared his throat. “Bottom line is that Theodoric had Ravenna under siege for three years and had the upper hand. He finished Odoacer on that day.”
He added a fifth line.
15 March 1917 A.D. PETROGRAD, RUSSIA
“Edith,” Dane nodded.
She reached into her satchel and brought out a small leather pouch, which she handled as if it were explosive. She walked to the table, opened the drawstrings, and gingerly deposited a single item onto the table in front of Doc.
He picked up the wooden icon. A hand-painted Virgin Mary on one side. On the other, five signatures in Russian. “What is it?”
“It’s your key,” Dane said.
“To what?”
“For getting close to the last Tsarina,” Edith said. “Empress Consort Alexandra Feodorovna, wife of Tsar Nicholas the Second; the last Tsar.” She pointed. “The signatures are her own and her daughter’s, the duchesses. It’s dated 11 December 1916. Only 19 days before Rasputin was killed. It was on his body at the time. The tale of what happened to his body is complex and you’ll get that in your download.” She gave a sideways glance at Dane, who gave a twitch of a smile in approval of her brevity. “It was reportedly stolen from Rasputin’s corpse just before it was burned. The icon disappeared.”
Doc looked up. “Then how did you find it?”
“That’s her job,” Dane said, “and she’s the best in the world at it.”
Edith flushed again, a deeper red than before.
“Sooo,” Doc said, drawing the word out. “Rasputin is dead and I’m showing up with something stolen from his corpse?”
“You’ll figure it out,” Dane said.
“It will get the Tsarina’s attention,” Edith said. “She was utterly devoted to Rasputin. She believed he saved her son, Alexei’s, life. He was heir to the throne but a hemophiliac. Also known as the Royal Disease. Many of the Royalty at the time were related and Queen Victoria, the Grandmother of Alexandra, passed it on to quite few of them. It only manifests in males—”
“I know what the disease is,” Doc said.
“He has a lot of PhD’s,” Mac said. “He usually starts conversations with that.”
“And I’m a physician,” Doc added.
“Hence the Doc,” Mac said.
“And once you get the data down
load,” Dane said, “you’ll know more about the entire era than anyone.”
Doc looked at the others. “Is this the way Black Tuesday’s briefing went?”
“Pretty much,” Mac said.
“I can see why you were pissed,” Doc said.
“We’re giving you all we have,” Dane said.
“So I’m meeting with the Tsarina,” Doc said, putting the icon back in the leather pouch and then in his coat. “Why 15 March?”
Edith beat Eagle to the history. “On 15 March 1917 Tsar Nicholas II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias, abdicated. It was the end of Russia under the Tsars. Technically, the first Tsar was Ivan IV Vasilyevich—”
“Better known as Ivan the Terrible,” Eagle said, getting a historical jab back in.
“In 1533. That monarchy ended on 15 March 1917, ushering in what became the Soviet Union.”
All Doc could do was nod as the implication sunk in.
“Why the Tsarina and not the Tsar?”
Dane gave Doc the look. Doc slumped back in his chair. He put the icon back in the pouch and held it out to Edith.
“You keep that,” Edith said. “It’s your key to getting the Tsarina’s attention if you need it. The Tsarina, the duchesses, and Alexei, were holed up in the Alexander Palace just outside Petrograd, what we call St. Petersburg. The Tsar was there also.”
“That’s where you’re going,” Dane said. He pointed at Edith. “We’ve made a few adjustments in mission prep since Black Tuesday. The icon is one example. Where we can, we’ll give you talismans to assist in the mission. Edith?”
She pulled a piece of cloth out of her satchel and handed it to Eagle. “That is the original Badge of Military Merit.”
Eagle took it reverently. “The first Purple Heart.”
“It’s commonly known as that,” Edith said, referring to something that was only commonly known to her and Eagle. “But actually, it was announced by Washington in 1782 as an award for exceptional bravery. It’s considered the first time in modern military history where an award was designed for enlisted men. At the time, all awards went to officers and—”
“Figures,” Mac said.
Edith was growing used to Mac and didn’t miss a beat: “Washington came up with it not just for gallantry but for extraordinary service in any way. He said, and I quote: ‘The road to glory in a Patriot Army and a free country is open to all’.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Scout said.
Eagle nodded. “It is indeed. I keep this?”
“Yes,” Dane said. “Use it if necessary to get Washington’s attention.”
“Do we all get something?” Roland asked, hoping perhaps for a better sword.
Dane pointed. “Scout has the Naga staff. Doc the icon. Eagle the Badge. We don’t have anything specific to a key person on that day for the rest of you.”
“But I’ve gone through all the downloads,” Edith said. “I’ve supplemented them with some extra information you might find useful.”
“We appreciate that,” Moms said.
Dane slid the chalk across the board. “We’re to the last year.”
15 March 480 B.C. THERMOPYLAE, GREECE
“The Gates of Fire,” Eagle said.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Scout said.
“The Three Hundred Spartans,” Eagle added.
“Oh. I’ve seen the movie,” Scout said. “Lots of bare-chested, muscular guys on steroids running around hacking at each other. But if I remember rightly, the ending isn’t so great. For them at least.”
“That’s about the only part they got right,” Dane said. “You’re going on the last day of the battle.”
“That sounds even worse,” Scout said. “Which side am I on?”
“Our side,” Dane answered. “The side of our timeline. The Spartans are defeated, but they slow the Persians enough so that eventually they are turned back.”
“Saving what is known as Western Civilization,” Edith added.
“Okay,” Scout said. “Why do I have this?” She tapped the haft of the Naga staff. “Am I supposed to fight?”
Dane turned to Edith Frobish. “Thank you.”
Edith took the hint and headed for the door. Before she could get out, Doc leaned over and tapped her arm. He whispered something to her. She nodded and departed.
“Your mission,” Dane said to Scout, as soon as the door shut, “is, for lack of a better word, cloudy.”
“They’re all pretty cloudy,” Moms said. “What’s different about Scout’s?”
“We received a report from Amelia Earhart out of the Space Between,” Dane said. “There’s been some unusual activity there. And it’s directed at this time and place.” He tapped the line at the bottom of the chalkboard.
“What kind of activity?” Moms asked.
“It appears that other Earth timelines besides the Shadow’s are interested in it,” Dane said.
“Don’t they have their own Thermopylae?” Scout asked.
“Of course,” Dane said. “But that date, that year, seems to be a key connecting point in some way between timelines. A strong one. What that means?” he asked, before any of the others could. “That this event, in our timeline, affects more than just us. It affects other timelines.”
“Good or bad?” Scout asked.
“It depends on what you do,” Dane said.
“Vague much?” Scout said.
“When we first me you in the Space Between,” Moms said, “you told us you were the Administrator of the Time Patrol. Across multiple timelines, not just ours. You have to know more.”
“Think on this,” Dane said. “If we have to compartmentalize information for security purposes, don’t you think we have to compartmentalize timelines for the same reason? On top of that, there’s the vagaries of the variables. I know it sounds like a cheap catch-phrase, but it’s the reality we all have to deal with. You know too little you screw things up. You know too much, you screw things up. That’s the reason the iron-clad rule for the Time Patrol is that you can never disclose information about the future to someone you meet in the past. By doing so you can change the future.”
“The first rule of Fight Club,” Mac said. “And the second.”
Scout indicated the Naga staff again. “Why do I have it? And where did you get it?”
“It’s the one from the Valkyrie your team killed underneath the Met,” Dane said.
“You think I’m going to run into a Valkyrie?”
“Hey, I ran into one on my mission,” Roland complained, “and I didn’t get the staffy thing.”
“We don’t know what you’re going to run into,” Dane said, “but if Earhart is concerned, then the Space Between is very close to this mission. Best to be prepared. And—” Dane paused.
“What?” Scout said. “Give me the bad news. I mean the bad news beyond the bad news you’ve already given me.”
“Sin Fen said you had to be the one that went on this particular mission,” Dane said, referring to the mystical woman they’d met in the Space Between and during the last debrief.
“Because I have the sight,” Scout said.
“That would be most likely,” Dane agreed.
“Where is she?” Scout asked.
“She’s with Earhart,” Dane said. “In the Space Between. Trying to figure out what’s going on.”
“And if she figures it out,” Scout said, “will anyone tell me?”
“Once you go back, we can’t reach you.” Dane put the piece of chalk down. “I know all of you have an infinite number of questions, but that’s it. Time to get your downloads, then go.”
“You know,” Roland said, “I just realized something.”
Mac opened his mouth to say something, but Scout gave him a look that stopped it before it made air.
“My download from Black Tuesday,” Roland said. “It’s gone.”
The other members, minus Doc, who’d gone on Black Tuesday missions were suddenly aware that theirs was too.
“That’s weird,” Eagle said. “I didn’t even realize it.”
“You didn’t,” Dane said, “because any information you didn’t have before the download was time-coded for just a little over twenty-four hours. Don’t ask me how it works, but be grateful. You don’t have unlimited data storage in your brains.”
Mac glanced at Scout, and then slumped back in the chair, not uttering another zinger at Roland.
“Where’s Ivar?” Eagle asked.
“He’s staying behind for this one,” Dane said. “He’s going to do some work here, pursuing a line of investigation that Doc initiated.”
“Is there something wrong with him?” Moms asked. “He was pretty shaken up after what happened to him.”
“He’s fine,” Dane said, a bit too quickly, causing Moms and Eagle to share another concerned look. “Everybody ready?”
“We need a moment,” Moms said.
Dane understood. He departed, leaving the six of them alone.
Moms stood up and the rest followed suit. “We have to keep some of our traditions from the Nightstalker’ days. Even though we go on these missions alone, we’re still a team. We have to hold on to that. It’s the base we need to stay grounded, especially given how crazy this whole thing is. Makes a Firefly in a killer rabbit look pretty normal.”
That elicited a few chuckles from who’d participated in the Fun Outside Tucson.
Moms looked around the table, meeting each member of the team’s gaze for a few seconds before moving to the next.
“All right,” she said. “Why are we here? Because someone has to man the walls in the middle of the night. Someone has to man the walls between our world and other worlds that mean us harm. The walls between the innocents who go to sleep each night with only the troubles they see in their lives. Normal troubles. Not about Kings and Emperor’s and Valkyries. But about their families. Their little piece of the world.
“The regular, ordinary people who know little of the dangers, the nightmares, surrounding our world. Who need people like us to stand watch over them. To protect them from the Shadow and the forces it sends against our timeline, trying to obliterate us and everyone we know, and everyone we love, from existence.
