Lies, Damned Lies, and History

by Jodi Taylor

  I’ve never been so pleased to see harbingers of doom in my entire life. An amplified voice boomed, ‘Dr Maxwell. Please identify yourself and your location.’

  That’s another thing about the Time Police. The word subtle is not in their vocabulary. They’re focused, driven, and do whatever is necessary to get the job done, and I was guessing their job was to find me. Because I was an idiot. I’d once spent weeks being chased up and down the timeline by these very people and I’d completely forgotten about their unparalleled ability to track down their targets. I’m tagged. We all are. For this very purpose. The St Mary’s tracking equipment is crap. From bitter experience we’ve learned it’s quicker and easier to jump up and down shouting, ‘Over here, idiots,’ than wait for one of our tag readers to pick us up. For the Time Police, however, with their futuristic weapons and advanced tech, finding me would be a stroll in the park.

  Obviously, St Mary’s had discovered I was missing, and lacking any sort of clue to my whereabouts had called in the Time Police, who had found me with one hand metaphorically tied behind their metaphorical backs.

  Again, the hills were alive with the sound of the Time Police doing what they did best.

  ‘Dr Maxwell. Advise us of your location.’

  The words bounced off the valley walls. I was willing to bet if there ever had been anyone in the village below they weren’t there now. They probably thought their gods were speaking to them. It’s interesting to think that every major religion that claims to have heard the voice of their god might well have heard nothing more than the Time Police ordering some unfortunate to surrender at once, or be zapped with one of their sonic thingies. I took a moment to wonder whether they could actually be responsible for parting the Red Sea, told myself not to be so bloody stupid, and staggered to my feet. I struggled a little way back down the goat track, leaned on a rock, and squeaked, ‘Here. I’m here.’

  You’d have had to have the hearing of a bat to have heard me, but somehow they did. I could hear the sound of men cursing as they tripped and stumbled over loose rocks until, finally a few minutes later, they appeared. Armoured, although not helmeted; guns at the ready. I brushed myself down, tucked my hair behind my ears, and stood as straight as I could because I’m an historian and image is everything.

  The one in front stopped dead and wiped his sweating face. Things could have been worse. It was Captain Ellis. The nearest thing I had to a friend in the Time Police.

  ‘Was it Ronan?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Still here?’

  I shook my head. ‘Long gone.’

  He looked around him. ‘For God’s sake, Max. What are you doing all the way up here?’

  ‘Sound tactical thinking. I’m sure Sun Tzu or Scipio or Nelson always advocated occupying the high ground.’

  ‘Nelson was a sailor, you idiot. What would he know about high ground?’

  ‘Well, he scrambled all over Emma Hamilton and she was a big girl.’

  He was joined by four other men, all hot and panting.

  ‘Only four of you? What happened to the might and majesty of the Time Police?’

  ‘There are three other teams out scouring the area for you.’

  ‘That brings back happy memories.’

  He ignored that.

  One of his men fumbled with his pack. ‘Are you all right, Dr Maxwell? Do you need any water?’

  And at that moment, with an exquisite sense of timing that I would never have expected from the somewhat lackadaisical god of historians, my waters broke. I don’t think any of us knew where to look. This was not turning out to be a good day and it was going to get worse.

  I doubled up again, but this pain was different. There was an urgency about it. I put both hands on a rock and began to pant.

  My world was suddenly full of panicking men.

  ‘We need to get her down the hill. Back to the pod.’

  ‘How? Look at the size of her.’

  ‘I … heard … that.’

  ‘Max, is there anything you can do to slow things down?’

  ‘Don’t … think so.’ I disappeared into my own private world of pain again, surfacing a minute or so later to find them deep in some sort of technical discussion and apparently oblivious to my suffering.

  ‘Aaaggghhh,’ I said, just to speed things up a bit.

  ‘We’re going to make a seat for you. Can you sit upright?’

  I nodded confidently, pretty sure that I couldn’t, but not seeing any other way.

  He put his hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll get you home, Max.’

  I nodded, words being beyond me at that moment. I was going home. Maybe there would be a happy ending after all. Aren’t Time Policemen wonderful?

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said the voice in my head. ‘Have you considered that they may not be here to save you, but to ensure this infant stays in his own time?’

  I caught my breath. That was true. If the kid was born now – and every indication was that it would be, then there was no way they would let it leave. It would have to stay. And I would stay with it.

  I’ve never liked these bastards.

  And it was coming. Coming now. The urge to push was overcoming my ability to pant.

  I had no idea labour could go so quickly. Helen had given me to understand it would last for hour after agonising hour. Days even. A long, drawn-out period of blood and pain, culminating in the violent expulsion of an infant who would occupy my every waking moment and never give me a moment’s rest until I sank, prematurely old and exhausted, into the longed for peace and quiet of the grave. She’s not in great demand at antenatal clinics.

  I squinted up at the sky, estimating I’d only been at it for about an hour. Surely, there was plenty of time yet.

  They'd used their weapons to make a basic chair on which, not without some trepidation, I sat. I rested a hand on each of their shoulders, they took the probably considerable strain, and off we lurched.

  We did not hang around. The ground was rough with loose stones threatening to trip us every inch of the way. They did their best but we nearly fell several times and once we actually did. Fortunately, although not for him, I fell on one of them. I wasn't given any time to recover or even to complain. In a flash, the two of them had hoisted me back up again and set off at an even faster pace, which was just as well. It had taken me an hour or so to climb up and even I could tell we didn't have another hour. Big deep pushing pains were coursing through my body with hardly a pause.

  Captain Ellis went first, picking the best path, and then my two officers carrying me. Another followed behind – presumably to pick me up in case I fell off backwards – and one ranged about us in case of trouble.

  There was no effort at concealment. They were the Time Police and they didn't give a rat's arse for historical accuracy. They got the job done – whatever that job was. Today that job was me. I knew their brief would be flexible. Get me back to my own time before I gave birth. If they failed with that objective, then their next was to ensure the infant stayed in this time – whenever this was. I must remember to ask. What they would do with me was a bit of an unknown. I wondered briefly if I should inform them that if anything happened either to me or his child, then Leon would hunt them to the ends of the earth and beyond, but they had enough on their plates at the moment. Besides, I needed my breath for other, more important things.

  The next pain, following hard on the heels of the previous one, was particularly bad. Despite all my best efforts, I lurched and yelled, ‘Aaaggghhh’ which was echoed by the poor sod on the left, as I inadvertently clawed his neck, and the guy on the right who lost his footing and went down heavily on one knee. I more or less fell off, but managed to stay on my feet. I put my hands on my knees and panted for dear life. They milled around, another officer took the place of the one with the wonky knee, and off we went again.

  It was going to be close. I could see their pod, a squat black affair. It wasn’t that far off, but neither was I. I slipped
from their makeshift chair and dropped to all fours. The urge to push was overwhelming. There was no way I could withstand it. I fell sideways, drew up my knees and pushed, sobbing, ‘I can’t. I can’t go on. It’s coming now.'

  Two men seized me, hauling me up, and not gently either. I had the bruises for days afterwards. They draped my arms around their necks and they ran. There was nothing I could do. My feet barely touched the ground. We slipped and slithered down the last hundred feet or so. I was screaming, I know that, begging them to put me down.

  ‘Hang on, Max, for God’s sake,’ shouted Ellis from somewhere behind me. ‘You must hold on. Just a few more minutes.’

  I didn’t have a few more minutes. I didn’t have any time at all. An odd bit of my mind, bored with this current crisis, took a second to wonder at which moment a child is officially born. When the head appears? When the whole child is expelled? When it draws its first breath? When the cord is cut?

  I sunk my chin on my chest and cried, ‘Nnnngggg’ just by way of a change.

  Ellis shouted something and they increased their pace, galloping headlong towards the pod.

  It was being born. I could feel it. I tried to twist myself free, but they had me in a grip of steel and I wasn’t going anywhere except towards the pod at top speed.

  I heard someone shout, ‘Door’, and then we were inside.

  ‘Quick, get her clothes off.’

  Someone tugged at my shoes. I felt my trousers being yanked down.

  I said, ‘Hey,’ and someone else said, ‘Sorry about this, Max,’ but I was pretty much past caring.

  I brought my knees up and connected heavily with someone’s chin. Even over the noise I was making I heard his teeth snap together.

  And there it was. I could feel it happening. Now. I curled myself for one final almighty effort …

  ‘Nnnngggg.’

  ‘Bloody hell, it’s coming. What do we do?’

  And then everything happened at the same time. Voices shouted around me.

  ‘Give me the med kit.’

  ‘Get that door shut.’

  Someone took my hand. I seized it and gripped hard.

  ‘Aaaggghhh.’

  No, that wasn’t me. That was the unfortunate bloke whose thumb I’d just dislocated.

  ‘Door!’

  ‘Aaaggghhh.’

  Yes, that one was me.

  ‘Aaaggghhh,’ because here it came. Now. I clenched my teeth and pushed.

  ‘Bloody hell, Max. No! Not yet! Stop!’

  Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  ‘Look out.’

  ‘Computer …’

  ‘Aaaggghhh.’

  ‘Initiate …’

  ‘Aaaggghhh.’

  ‘… Jump.’

  ‘Aaaggghhh.’

  The last word was lost in my final scream, the wail of a newborn infant and the thud of our heavy landing and in which order they came is a secret I will take to the grave.

  I was surprised at the landing. I thought they’d be better than that. Although, as Captain Ellis complained to me later, one of his men had a badly sprained knee, one had bitten through his tongue and was in some discomfort, and one had a dislocated thumb, so perhaps there was some excuse. Anyway, I was home.

  My home anyway.

  I struggled to sit up and see my baby.

  Someone said, ‘That’s not right.’

  ‘What?’ I said, panicking as only an experienced historian and new mother can do. ‘What’s not right? What’s happening? Tell me.’

  ‘My bloody thumb,’ said the voice. ‘Look at it, it’s …’

  I never found out what it was, because the door opened and Helen stood on the threshold with Hunter behind her, carrying a med kit.

  ‘Move,’ she said, and quite honestly, our big rufty-tufty Time Policemen couldn’t move quickly enough, clustering together at the door.

  I said weakly, ‘Helen …’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘just a minute.’ She and Hunter bent over something.

  ‘Helen …’

  There was an orange explosion at the door and Time Policemen flew in all directions. Like skittles. Leon was with us.

  He fell into the pod, dropped to his knees beside me, and said, ‘Max.’

  I put my arms around his neck and whispered, ‘Leon.’

  He put his arm around my shoulders, gently supporting me and wriggled himself alongside. I leaned gratefully against him, feeling all his solid warmth around me. His heart was racing and the hand holding mine was not steady. Neither was his voice.

  He said, ‘Max,’ again and his voice broke. I clutched his hand because I couldn’t speak either.

  And then I remembered. ‘Helen – what’s happening? It’s not crying.’

  ‘Not all babies cry.’

  ‘Why isn’t it crying?’

  ‘I suspect it’s very sensibly sussing out its surroundings before making any sort of sound. Obviously a strong sense of self-preservation its mother would do well to emulate.’

  ‘Is it all right?’

  ‘It’s fine as far as I can tell,’ she said casually, with no sense at all of the importance of the question. ‘If you can just wait quietly for one moment …’

  She and Hunter bent over the baby and did things I couldn’t see. I clung to Leon who clung back again.

  ‘Here you are,’ she said finally, lifting something very loosely wrapped in a sterile cloth.

  She placed the baby – my baby – our baby – gently into my arms.

  I stared, awestruck. It was very quiet around the pod. Everyone was staring.

  ‘Well,’ said someone quietly. ‘Will you look at that.’

  ‘It’s a boy,’ said Leon, hoarsely, touching his head with one finger.

  ‘It certainly is,’ I said. ‘He’s going to be popular with the girls.’

  Leon sighed. ‘Right, that settles it. Tomorrow morning, like it or not, you get your eyes tested.’

  I squinted. ‘Are you saying she’s a girl?’

  He sighed. ‘No, he’s a boy. A perfectly normal little boy. He’s just not hung like the National Gallery.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘That’s his cord.’

  ‘We’ll give you some privacy for a moment,’ said Helen. ‘Apparently, thanks to Max, there are other casualties.’ She and Hunter left the door open so they could keep an eye on things while they treated the Time Policemen I’d managed to injure during the birthing process.

  ‘My tongue hurth like hell,’ someone was saying thickly.

  ‘Not a lot I can do,’ said Hunter. ‘Suck ice cubes and wait for the swelling to go down. It will. It’s stopped bleeding already. No hot drinks for a while, obviously.’

  He made an anxious noise.

  ‘No, beer should be fine.’

  In the distance, I could hear Helen telling someone not to be such a wuss. He had another knee, didn’t he?

  I lay back against Leon as we stared at our baby. I watched tiny fingers fasten around his thumb and felt tears begin to fall. I looked up at Leon, and there he was – wife in one arm and baby in the other, his eyes shining and at that moment, the happiest man on the planet.

  A sudden shriek of pain made us both jump.

  ‘Call yourself a Time Policeman,’ said Hunter, scornfully. ‘That was pathetic.’

  ‘That was bloody agony.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be such a wimp. I’ve put your thumb back in. There’s a woman in there who’s just had a baby and you don’t hear her whinging.’

  ‘Yeah? Try putting that back in and see what sort of a fuss she makes then.’

  Their voices died away and we were left alone.

  Just the three of us.

  I knew there were still problems out there.

  I knew – Captain Ellis knew – they all knew – Matthew had been born between times. We’d jumped from there, but not yet landed here. Did that count?

  Would they make us go back? The shadows in the corners deepened. My
feet grew cold.

  And Halcombe. He was still here, supposedly incubating leprosy, but we couldn’t keep him locked up forever.

  And the Sword of Tristram and the Holy Roman Crown were still buried up in the woods awaiting discovery and St Mary’s rehabilitation.

  And Dottle, slowly extricating herself from Halcombe’s influence. I knew she wanted to stay. Could a place be found for her?

  And what about Tim and his Special Question?

  And what of that unfamiliar Leon who swooped in, saved us all and then swooped back out again?

  One hell of a ‘To Do’ list.

  Captain Matthew Ellis appeared in the doorway. ‘They’re going to move you up to Sick Bay now. Sorry, Max, but we need our pod back.’

  We all surveyed the mess. It looked as if a major battle had been fought in here.

  He knelt alongside. ‘Just look at this little fellow, Max.’ He turned to look at me and said quietly, ‘Lucky baby. Five seconds earlier and he’d have been in trouble.’

  I felt a great tidal wave of relief surge through me. He was a good man.

  Leon held out his hand. ‘I can’t thank you enough.’

  Ellis took it. ‘No need to thank me at all. Have you thought of a name yet?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leon, unexpectedly. ‘With your permission, he’s Matthew Edward Farrell.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘I should be tremendously honoured.’ He stroked a tiny hand with his finger. ‘Hey there, Matthew. Welcome to the world.’ He turned back to us, but looking at me. ‘So that’s a happy ending then.’

  ‘So it would seem,’ I said, looking at him. ‘Thank you, Matthew.’

  He smiled. ‘My pleasure. No, hold on. What should I say? Oh yes – an honour and a privilege.’

  ‘And I’m sorry about your crew. I had no idea they were so fragile. You should employ more girls.’