by Tanya Allan
As Jane, my untimely death was engineered, so I wasn’t surprised, yet still it had been a traumatic experience. The debrief session had been exceptionally tough, as I had to go through all the emotions of grief, loss and bereavement for those I had left behind.
Michael handled my debriefing personally, for which I was grateful. I was also grateful that when I first opened my eyes to find I was back as Ed Ryan, I had absolutely no memories of what had happened to me.
There was a blank. One moment I had been lying on a couch in the lab, attached to a strange machine, and here I was, back on the same couch, being unplugged from the same machine. I knew that my physical body hadn’t moved, and it literally had been a matter of a second or two since my last thoughts, but the blank space denoted a vast experience of which I was completely unaware.
“Welcome back,” said Michael, smiling at me.
“Uh, thanks, I think. I have been away, then?”
“Oh yes, for quite a while. How do you feel?”
“Missing something, I think,” I said, feeling a fool.
He smiled again and helped me to my feet. The world spun a little, so I held onto the couch for a moment for the feeling to pass.
“You may experience a headache for a little while. That’s due to the memory block we put in.”
“Yeah, I remember you telling me about it. Something to do with controlling the returning memories so as to keep me sane, wasn’t it?”
Harry Horsefall came bustling in, looking as disorganised as ever.
“Ed, how was it?”
“Hi, Professor, I don’t know yet, so ask me later.”
Turning to Michael, Harry could hardly contain his impatience.
“Hurry up, I want to know about the children, this is momentous,” he said.
“Children?” I asked, frowning.
“Later; Harry, you know we have to take it carefully,” Michael said, looking faintly displeased with Harry.
“I know, but this really is important!”
“I realise you believe that it’s important, and I’m sure it is, but I’m not accelerating the process just because of that. I have to put Ed before your impatience.”
We left Harry muttering to himself in the lab, making our way to the Michael’s suite. He was right, as I had the beginnings of a humdinger of a headache.
As I sat on his comfortable sofa, he passed me a tall glass of beer.
“It’s a Budweiser. I hope that’s okay?”
Grinning, I took a long pull on the glass. It tasted so good! In real terms, I had only had a beer yesterday, but for some reason, it seemed a hell of a long twenty-four hours.
“So, what happens now?” I asked.
“Now, my friend, we take you through your experience, bit by bit, and carefully. You’re to be congratulated; you did very well.”
“What’s this about children?”
“Don’t worry too much about that now, as we’ll cover everything in due course. I just want you to relax and get yourself mentally prepared for a bit of a rough ride.”
“How rough?”
“Judging by what you managed to achieve, about as rough as they get,” he told me with a gentle chuckle.
He sat next to me, holding a small, oval spheroid in his hand.
“This is a device that allows me to link with you and open your memories at a pace that you determine. We simply both hold it and, in doing so, the block becomes flexible. We have equal control of the block, but I shall relinquish control as I am convinced you can deal with whatever memory is being experienced. All you have to do to stop is let go, so if there is something difficult, let go so we can discuss it and then when we touch it again, it picks up from where we left off. Understand?”
I nodded. “It seems a lot for something so small.”
“Perhaps, but there are so many devices we use that we have absolutely no idea of their composition or those who constructed them.”
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked.
“Not really, except that I want you to read this. It’s the obituary for Lady Jane Lambert.”
“Who?”
“You.”
He passed me a single piece of paper. It was an age-yellowed copy of a newspaper cutting, dated Monday 15th June 1868.
The way he said it told me that the name should have meant something to me. It didn’t, yet at the same time, it was hauntingly familiar.
I took the paper and read it.
On Friday 13th June 1868, we announce the tragic and sudden death of (Lady) Jane Lambert. (1790 - 1868)
Widow of the late General (Sir) Roger Lambert, who renounced his knighthood on his commission as an officer in the United States Army.
Whilst on her estate in Maryland, Jane Lambert died aged seventy-eight, after falling from her horse in a riding accident. Still well-regarded and known as ‘Lady Jane’ by everyone who knew her, she was a dominant force in emancipation movements, both for slaves and, latterly, for the rights for women. She was born in 1790, the youngest daughter of the late Commander Charles Chauncey, of the Royal Navy, from Taunton, Devon.
She and her husband came to the United States in 1816, after the Napoleonic wars, in which Sir Roger served with distinction in His Britannic Majesty’s Army. He died some six years ago, so in the intervening years, Lady Jane was forever championing worthy causes. Reputed to have saved the life of the Duke of Wellington on no less than two occasions, Lady Jane became a renowned hostess in the Capitol, whilst opening orphanages and homes for the destitute at the same time.
She is survived by her three children, Edward, Emily-Jane and Sophia, in addition to her two step-children, Katie and William. There are eighteen grandchildren.
Her stepson, General William Lambert, of the United States Marine Corps, has served in the Mexican War and with the battalion that fought at Bull Run. The General made the following eulogy at the funeral.
“My mother was a woman of tremendous energy, courage and love. I call her my mother, for that is what she was. Despite my real mother dying when I was born, Jane loved me as much as had I been her child. To know her, was to love her, for she had a capacity to love that surpassed understanding.
“She came into our lives when we were down. My father was wounded in the wars and was still grieving over the death of my mother. She brought sunshine into our lives, supporting and encouraging my father to build a life that had been unthinkable a few years earlier.
“She loved us, her children; she loved life, and she adored her husband, my father. It is testament to that love that sees eight hundred people in this place today, so I cannot do justice to such a person through mere words.
She will be missed dreadfully, but she had prepared her children and grandchildren to face the trials of life through her love and example.
We thought her indestructible, yet she wasn’t. We joked that she retained her youthful exuberance and energy when many younger than her would flag, so it is fitting that she died doing something she really enjoyed. Jane would never have put up with being old and infirm.
I have no doubt that today there is another angel in heaven!”
She was laid to rest beside her husband in the cemetery at Holmwood.
I looked at Michael. “Shit! Is this for real?”
“Oh yes, are you ready to take a closer look?”
“It says three children,” I said, looking at him for some help.
“That’s right, it does.”
“I thought you said that kids were impossible?”
“No, what we told you was that it had never happened.”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” I asked, glancing at the paper again. It was so weird, I knew that this was supposed to be the person I had been, yet not recollecting anything gave it a surreal feel.
“Not exactly.”
Holding the ovoid towards me, he reached out and guided my hand onto its shimmering surface.
I have tried to describe the experience, but words cannot
really do justice to the emotions. A lifetime of memories in a matter of seconds is not something I recommend.
Michael did control the waves of memory, but as I didn’t let go immediately, he gradually released control and allowed me access.
My mind reeled and bucked under the assault of emotions. There were too many, so after a while I had to let go. The relief was instantaneous, as I was back sitting on the sofa, with my head throbbing.
“Okay?” Michael asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah, give me a minute.”
In the end, I stopped six times, preferring to just get it over with. Each time we stopped, Michael insisted on talking through where I’d got to and why I’d stopped. We went through the death of my husband and many of the highly charged emotive occasions that occurred. Strangely, my death was one of the easiest events to handle. It was more a relief than anything else.
When it was over, I sat back and closed my eyes. Michael put the ovoid away and sat watching me.
“Mike?”
“Yes, Ed.”
“How much can I keep?”
“As much or as little as you want.”
“Then can I keep it all?”
“If you want to; it might be unwise. May I ask why?”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. “It was a damn good life. I’m proud of what I did.”
Nodding, he smiled. “So you should be. You’ve made history.”
“What, with the kids?”
“That and the impact you had on everyone with whom you came into contact. Normally our agents come and go like ghosts, but not you.”
I smiled. “Sorry.”
“No problem. Luckily, you were so embedded in reality that our opponents have never associated Lady Jane with us. The fact you had children seems to have done the trick.”
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask, how did that happen?”
“We honestly don’t know. However, we have rethought our view on the potential for procreation by agents.”
I smiled at his delight in using long words.
“You have created a unique first.”
“What by being both a father and a mother?”
“I suppose so. How do you feel now?”
“Confused, as I feel hurt, sad, pleased, frustrated and many other things as well. I think the worst is a sense of loss. I’ll never see those kids again, will I?”
“Which kids, your own or the grandchildren?”
“Either or both. Shit, any of them!”
“No, not as Lady Jane. I can block them out, if you’d like?”
“No way! They’re my happy thoughts.”
“I said it might be unwise. Our experience is that should you go in for another assignment, these memories might be a hindrance to you.”
I thought about it for a few moments.
“No; although I can see why they could be, but they’re precious to me. They’re as real as any memory that I have as Ed Ryan, so I think I’ll keep them all.”
He smiled, sitting back and regarding me critically. “Okay, but if you change your mind, just say the word.”
“Thanks, but they stay.”
“So, what do you want to do?” he asked.
“What choices do I have?”
“You could take a well earned rest. Your money is in the bank, so you could go down to the Keyes and take that boat trip. Otherwise, you could stay here a few days, do some research or learn a new skill. The last option would be to go back. I wouldn’t recommend it so soon, though.”
“Go back? But I died.”
“I’m sorry, that was my fault. You can’t go back as Jane. You’d have to go back as someone new, in a different era.”
“Like when?”
“We have many specific time zones that need agents, so you could have quite a selection.”
“Hey, could I get to see a certain thirty-year period in first century Palestine?”
Michael chuckled. “No, we have a strong block in place on that particular location. Our resources can maintain such blocks in but a few time zones, but that zone is one of the most crucial. You have no idea how many attempts have been made to infiltrate that particular region. If we could, I’d like to take a trip to that era as well.”
“Okay, so what is available?”
“Take your pick,” he said, passing over a large folder. “You don’t have to make your mind up immediately, so take your time, have a rest and see what you feel you want to do.”
So, here I was, stark naked and jogging gently across long grass in a forest glade somewhere in the middle of England. The year, AD 99, my aim was to get to Rome, eventually. The task: to keep a single man from being assassinated, thereby ensuring that the Roman Empire makes its conquests without hindrance. Easy, you might think.
Not when that single man is shortly to become the emperor Trajan. Not when a small group of specialist warriors are training, armed with weapons that should not be developed for another thousand years. The Chinese invented gunpowder, even developing crude firearms, but this group had another weapon - the M16 of its day - the longbow.
Make no mistake, many peoples of the earth have used bows of all sizes and descriptions for a very long time, but none came as close to perfection as the long bow. Cheap and relatively easy to make, light to carry and silent in use, the longbow, when used correctly by an experienced archer, can deliver silent death, accurately and at a rate of up to one hundred arrows a minute over a distance of several hundred feet.
Used by the English archers against numerically superior French forces at Creçy and Agincourt, the archer became so feared that the French would remove the first two fingers of all English prisoners, thereby rendering them unable to use their weapons. Hence, the abusive ‘V’ sign that is in universal usage to display ones disgust or annoyance. English soldiers originally used this sign to taunt the French to show they still had their fingers.
Someone was making and training a small elite squad to kill from a fair distance away. These men were as dangerous as modern snipers.
Julius Caesar was long dead, murdered by his friends and enemies in the Senate. His legacy would continue, and the Roman civilization would become a benchmark against which future civilisations would be judged.
Indeed, it could be argued that the Roman Empire never really died but simply shifted from being a secular empire to a religious one. For as soon as Emperor Constantine legitimised the Christian faith, he successfully undermined its freedom by transferring control from the hands of the Almighty into the hands of the successive Popes of Rome.
The Roman Catholic Church was, and still is, the direct descendant of the Roman Empire. There might be no emperor anymore, but the role of Pope was the same in everything but name. However, that wasn’t to happen for a few centuries yet, so our job was to identify who it was we were up against.
In attempting to identify our enemies, we were convinced that whoever they were had certain factors that determined their focus.
They were anti-Western Europe and equally anti-American. We were aware that they were hostile towards established religions, specifically Judaism and Christianity. They showed a total disregard for collateral damage amongst the indigenous peoples of the zones in which they sought to alter. The years since Christ were regularly patrolled, so most momentous events, key individuals and their ancestors were relatively secure. However, several suspect groups came to mind, not least some extreme Muslim groups and the more diverse Eastern religious groups. It made little sense, until one looked at the politics of that time and the potential for a dramatic swing of influence from Europe to more Eastern powers. Let’s face it; we just didn’t know who we were up against.
With the benefit of hindsight, we were able to see that the vulnerable time seemed to be just after Christ’s birth and life, when the Greek and Roman influence was at their height. The Romans may have taken the lead in terms of administration and power, but the academic and cultural force still lay with the Greeks.
&nb
sp; Paul’s letters show that there was a real thirst for knowledge amongst the Greeks, so if an idea or belief was to be debated, the language would be Greek, and not Latin. The Romans may be the military power, administrating vast regions of the known world, but Latin wasn’t the language of the Empire’s intelligencia, but Greek.
In order to dominate the Mediterranean region, control of the ports along the coast was vital to the Romans. Cleopatra was dead, so the lands around the coast and the River Nile were firmly in Roman control. Yet to the east and west of the Empire, still tribes and whole areas had yet to be tamed. Britannia was one of those areas. Peopled by many different tribes that had never thought of combining against their new enemy, the might and discipline of the Romans gradually reduced their resistance and introduced the conquered people to their version of civilisation. Yet it was not from here the threat was to be born, but from the other extreme in a land called Dacia on the Black Sea, now Romania.
Strangely, I had to make my way to Londinium, the last known location of an agent who passed information relating to a training encampment that appeared to be training a few archers in the use of what was described as an English Longbow. Britannia was too far from Rome to be a threat, but the yew and traditional woods used in the construction of the bow and arrows grew here. Therefore, we suspected that skilled craftsmen, recruited by our enemies, were now in England a thousand years earlier, training assassins in the skills of the bowman.
Trajan was responsible for one of the high points of the Empire. His legacy was to ensure, despite some terrible rulers and events, the Roman Empire would last for another four hundred years, before finally losing its glory to swathes of invaders from the east and north.
The eastern border was a melting pot of tribal discord, with powerful kings flexing their muscles to rid themselves of Rome’s Yoke. Trajan was to prevent this from happening, ensuring that Pax Romana would remain in place for a long time, forming what became known as our history.
If Trajan was to fail, then Constantine would never rule, and if he never became Emperor, then the Christian faith would never be legitimised, or not in such style.
