by Bob Mayer
New Delhi, India, 31 October 1984
“Your tea is getting cold, dear,” Gandhi said.
Neeley gingerly picked up the cup and took a sip. “Who told you that you would die today?”
Gandhi waved a hand, dismissing the question. “Who is not important. I have always known I would die young. A hazard of my occupation.”
The download had all of the team’s previous missions. Other Agents had been met by someone who expected them, but they were usually either Agents-In-Time or killers from the Shadow. Scout had been met by Pandora on her Valentines Day mission. Neeley was mentally sorting through all 42 previous missions in the download for a similar situation, but Gandhi’s words interrupted.
“If you are like the men I have in my intelligence units,” Gandhi said, “you are evaluating this situation. Trying to understand. But you are not a man. Yet, you have a gun and know how to use it. But you say you are here to protect me. That is good. I do not want a woman to kill me.” She smiled sadly. “India’s first female Prime Minister assassinated by another woman? That would not sit well in history at all. So what are you to protect me from? There are many ways to die.”
“I don’t know, Prime Minister,” Neeley lied.
Gandhi frowned. “You are American, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Ah. I did not care for your Nixon, nor he for me. I feel comfortable believing history will not judge him well. But I find President Reagan charming. Not very bright, but he listens to others. That is a rare trait in a leader. His wife. She is the very smart one, but she has some strange beliefs. I suppose, though, that we all do. Are you CIA?”
“No, Prime Minister.”
“I told you, Neeley, to call me Indira.”
“Why do you believe you will die today?” Neeley asked, realizing that Reagan was/is President right now.
“I was always sick as a child so I have never viewed death as a distant thing,” Gandhi said. She looked past Neeley at something, but Neeley kept her focus forward, not sensing a threat. “And I have many enemies. I had to reconcile myself to the possibility of an early death or else I would have spent every moment in fear and incapable of action.”
“Why today?” Neeley pressed.
“I was told I would die some time this morning, after sun rise.”
“Who told you this?”
“A vision,” Gandhi said.
The download informed Neeley such visions were usually in the form of Valkyries. “An angel?”
“I do not believe in angels, dear. Although I could see how one would call it that.”
“Why do you believe this vision?”
“I had one talk to me before,” Gandhi said, returning her attention to Neeley. “And I ignored it. But it was true.”
“When was this?”
“23 June 1980,” Gandhi said. “Early that morning. I was told hours before it happened.” She shook her head. “It warned me and I didn’t listen.”
The download supplied the rest: on that day, her eldest son, Sanjay, was killed in a plane crash while performing an acrobatic maneuver.
“You were told of your son’s death before it happened?” Neeley asked.
“Yes. And I did nothing. I thought perhaps I was experiencing a delusion. A psychotic break. You see, after all, I am a rational person.”
“Was it a being in white that floated in the air?” Neeley asked.
Gandhi nodded. “Yes.”
“Did it tell you how you would die?” Neeley asked. “You asked if I were here to shoot you, so it must have given you some details. ”
“No. It was rather vague on that. The same with Sanjay. It didn’t tell me his plane would crash. Just that he would die.”
“But you acted like you were expecting me,” Neeley pointed out. She looked around. “Where are your guards? Why weren’t you surprised to find me suddenly here?”
“I was also told someone would appear here, very early, just after midnight.” Gandhi picked up her tea. “Ah. It is cold.” She gathered both cups and went over to the sink, putting them in and running the water. “Do you want more tea?” she asked over her shoulder as she turned the burner back on.
“No, thank you,” Neeley said. “You do know your story makes as much sense as my suddenly appearing here.”
“It told me someone would appear. Not an assassin. Someone to help me. I assume that is you.” Gandhi clicked the burner off. She walked back to the table and sat down, sighing deeply as she settled into the chair.
“Everything I have done, I have done for the good of my people. However, I have not been a very good mother. My eldest died without the love he should have had over the years.”
In the dim light reflected out of the kitchen, Gandhi looked older then her 67 years. The thick band of white above her right eye, almost a trademark, was the most striking feature. The rest of her hair, obviously died black, was ruffled and unkempt.
Neeley knew Gandhi had coerced her other son, Rajiv, into politics after the death of Sanjay. After her assassination later this morning, there would be reprisals against the Sikhs and at least three thousand would be killed. And of that carnage, Rajiv would simply say: ‘When a big tree falls, the earth shakes .’
Neeley was feeling less sympathetic toward Gandhi the more she accessed the download, much as she did on a Sanction once she read the file. Gandhi’s ‘poor mother’ routine wasn’t touching a maternal bone in Neeley.
Not that she had one.
Rajiv would also be assassinated in 1991. Which brought Neeley full circle. Why was she here?
Neeley picked up the .45.
Gandhi indicated the pistol. “You said you were not here to kill me. ”
Neeley glanced over her shoulder. A framed picture of a younger Gandhi with her family—husband and two sons was centered amidst a cluster of other pictures of the sons on the wall. “I’m not.”
“Where do you come from?” Gandhi asked.
“I’m not from here,” Neeley said.
“When do you come from?”
Neeley tried to act surprised. “What?”
“You come from the future, don’t you? Tell me of it! How is death coming for me this morning?”
Neeley shook her head. “No idea.”
“You’re lying,” Gandhi said. “I am a politician. We are liars and we know our ilk when we see it. You are not very good at lying. I suggest you never cheat on your man, if you ever have one. He will know right away. My husband used to cheat on me all the time. He thought he was so smart. He wasn’t.” Gandhi’s voice had risen, but it suddenly switched back to normal. “Are you sure you would not like some more tea? Dawn is a few hours off.”
Neeley got up and walked over to the wall.
The pictures had dust on the glass.
Gandhi walked over. “My family is—“
She didn’t finish as Neeley spun about and pressed the muzzle of the pistol against her forehead, pushing so hard, the Prime Minister had to take a step back.
“You’re delaying,” Neeley said. “These pictures are part of a nice display you’ve set for me. You were told I was coming and I know what’s going to happen.”
Neeley took a step forward, the pressure of the muzzle causing Gandhi to take another step back. “I could kill you right now and end all this.”
“But you won’t,” Gandhi said. “Because you were not sent to kill me. If you kill me it will change things, won’t it?”
Neeley didn’t respond.
“Look at your chest,” Gandhi said.
Neeley looked down and saw two red dots flickering just below the hollow of her neck.
“Do you take me for a fool?” Gandhi shook her head. “I should have killed you immediately. But then I wouldn’t know from where death come this morning? You would think of you were here to help me, you would tell me. But I don’t think you are here to help me . The vision simply said you were to help as vaguely as it said I would die. Death can come in many forms. It could be
an assassin. It could be a bomb. I could have a heart attack. I could trip and fall. However, I do not think death is coming in a natural form. Because your arrival was not natural.”
Doors opened and guards piled into the room. They were surrounded by a circle of men aiming their weapons at Neeley.
“Do you know whether or not you are in God’s grace?” Neeley asked Gandhi, trying a Joan-of-Arc gambit as one of the guards took her gun.
Gandhi’s eyes went wide. “’If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me. I should be the saddest creature in the world if I knew I were not in His grace ’.” She laughed. “A nice trap since one can’t be certain of God’s grace, but to say one is not in God’s grace is to condemn oneself.” Gandhi whispered so that only Neeley could hear. “Except I don’t have a God. And you are going to tell me how I die before the sun comes up.”
The North Atlantic, 31 October 1941 A.D.
The pressure on the blade against Roland’s throat lessened the slightest bit.
“What do you know of Jagers?” the man asked.
“I know you hunt Grendels. And Aglaeca. Monsters. I’ve hunted with Jagers twice before.”
“And you are still breathing,” Jager said. “Impressive.” He stiffened as the point of Roland’s Naga dagger touched his side, just underneath his rib cage. “It took you long enough. I am surprised you survived two battles against Grendels with such slow reactions.”
The rebuke didn’t bother Roland because it was true. He had been slow.
Jager pulled his blade away from Roland, who returned the favor.
“You say this ship sinks?” Jager asked.
Roland nodded. “It will get torpedoed by a German U-Boat.”
“The U-Boat is my target. This is not good. I thought this ship was designed to sink U-Boats? ”
“It is,” Roland said. “But the crew doesn’t know there is a U-Boat nearby. How do you know there is?”
“I followed the doorway the Shadow opened. I saw where the beasts went. But I was too slow. I ended up on this ship. I was diverted by one of the Norn. Or she helped me. Who knows what those old bitches do?”
It took Roland several moment to find the term in the download: the Fates in Norse Mythology.
“She was there, just before the doorway closed. She also told me there would be a traveler in time where I was going. She was right about that, because here you are. You come from the future?”
First rule of Time Patrol. But Roland had been down this path before with Jagers. They came from another timeline, one that had been destroyed by an infestation of Aglaeca, who birthed Grendels, and Kraken, who guarded the nests where Aglaeca lay their eggs that birthed more Aglaeca and Grendels. It was a disaster that once it began reached criticality relatively quickly. And the Jager was saying that a Fate had already spilled the beans on time travel. Given that the previous two Jagers had proved to be formidable allies, Roland threw First Rule out the window. A move that would have surprised Frasier, but not Dane.
“I am,” Roland said.
“And this ship is sunk by this U-Boat?”
“It is.”
“Does it destroy the U-Boat in the process?”
“No.”
They both staggered as the Reuben James took a large wave.
“That is not good,” Jager understated.
“What is on the submarine?” Roland asked, although he had a pretty good idea.
Two crewmen came down the passageway, their foul weather gear soaked, their hoods low. They pushed past, not exchanging a greeting, exhausted after their watch.
“An Aglaeca,” Jager said. “Many eggs. Some Grendels.” He shook his head. “Something is not right. The Grendels would have killed almost all the humans on board. Just kept some alive to drive the boat. They would not risk attacking this ship. They would only fight for survival.”
“What is their goal?” Roland asked .
“To plant as many nests as they can,” Jager said. “Along coastlines. So the eggs can hatch and then the beasts can multiply until they over-run your world. As they did mine. Your timeline is at war?”
Roland nodded. “It is the beginning of what will be the largest war ever in our timeline.”
“That would be a perfect time for the Aglaeca. That is why the Shadow choose now. Sow confusion amongst the fog of war. A strategy that has worked.”
“So we have to sink this U-Boat?” Roland asked, wondering how that would factor into history, since the download indicated there was only one U-Boat in the attack and it survived. In fact, the U-552 would survive the entire war, a rarity. Unless, Roland realized, there wasn’t going to be an attack since the submarine was infested with Grendels.
A lot of variables for Roland to process, with a lot of vagaries.
“They have to be stopped,” Jager said, “or your timeline will be destroyed.”
“Come,” Roland said. “We must talk to the captain.”
The download guided him along the passageway, and up a ladder, making the short distance through the destroyer to the bridge. The ship was a classic ‘four-stack’ Clemson class destroyer, built in 1919. This model was the most numerous destroyer class designed and built by the United States up to this point, with a total of 156 launched. It was a little over three hundred feet long by thirty-two feet wide. Its armament consisted of four, four-inch guns, one anti-aircraft gun, and some machine guns. The primary weapons for other surface ships were twelve torpedo tubes. For destroying submarines there were depth charge racks on the aft deck.
Roland led the way onto the bridge, Jager at his side. The captain and the others on duty turned in surprise at their unexpected entry.
“Captain Edwards,” Roland said, the download supplying the name.
“What is it sailor?” The bridge was dimly lit as dawn was still an hour off and they were maintaining their night vision. Edwards squinted. “Who are you? I don’t recognize either of you.”
“Sir, may I have a word?” Roland asked.
Edwards had been next to the helmsman. He walked the few feet over to Roland and Jager. “Who the hell are you?”
“There’s a U-Boat off the port bow.” Roland looked at the large clock on the aft bulkhead of the bridge.
0532 .
“In eighteen minutes,” Roland said, “a torpedo will strike. The ship will sink.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Edwards held up a hand. “First. Who are you? How are you on my ship? How do you know about a U-Boat and torpedoes?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Jager said, his hand sliding inside his oilskin jacket for his dagger.
“Wait,” Roland said to Jager. He stepped close to Edwards and spoke so only the captain could hear him. “You graduated the Naval Academy in 1926. You came in fourth in the light heavyweight division in freestyle wrestling at the 1928 Olympics. You’ve served on the battleship Florida and the destroyer Reno . You also have gone through submarine training. Your ship is going to become the first ship sunk by the Germans in the coming war, unless you take action. Immediate action.”
Edwards wasn’t impressed. “Sailor, tell me who you are or I will have both of you arrested.”
An ensign in the bridge crew, picking up the captain’s angry tone came closer, along with a seaman.
Roland could tell the Captain was exhausted. According to the download he’d been on the bridge almost continuously the last several days as the convoy approached U-Boat territory. In fact, the American escorts were supposed to have handed off the convoy to British warships the previous day, but there’d been a delay and the Americans had been asked to stay on one extra, fateful, day. The convoy was currently located seven hundred miles west and south of Iceland.
Roland continued. “You were born in San Saba, Texas on 9 November, 1905. And unless you listen to me, you’re going to die today.”
“You’re crazy,” Edwards said.
None of the bridge crew were armed, which Roland found odd, since he equated
a soldier not being armed with being naked, but the Navy was the Navy and Roland had always found it to be a rather foreign branch of service. Roland figured it was time to pull their blades and force the issue.
He turned his head. “Jager, we must—“
“Captain!” A crewman wearing a headset called out. “We have a message from the Escort Commander. The Tarbell has picked up an unknown transmission and we’ve been ordered to run down the RDF bearing.” He rattled off the numbers.
“Port bow,” Edwards muttered. He raised his voice. “Helm, come about on that bearing. Increase speed to twenty-five knots. Sonar, start pinging for contact.”
He turned back to Roland and grabbed his coat with both hands, pulling him close. “Talk! Who are you? How do you know all this?”
Roland was big, but Edwards had been an Olympian wrestler. The two were at an impasse for a few moments, then Roland gave in and took a shot. “I’m from NCIS.”
“What?” Edwards was confused.
Edith’s download, given she was a stickler for detail, informed Roland that NCIS hadn’t been founded yet which meant his TV knowledge wasn’t useful.
“Naval Intelligence,” Roland tried.
Edwards was still confused. “But how did you get on board?”
Roland glanced at the clock.
0540.
Jager spoke for the first time. “The pinging. What is that?”
Roland answered what the download gave him: “Sound navigation and ranging. Sending out underwater pulses and get echoes back.”
“No!” Jager cried out. “That will draw kraken.”
“What?” Edwards was confused.
“We have a contact!” the sonar man announced. “Close, sir. Very close. Five hundred yards on this heading.”
“Battle stations,” Edwards yelled.
A klaxon reverberated through the ship and those off duty scrambled into their gear to rush to their fighting posts.
“Stay there,” Edwards ordered Roland and Jager. He went to the command chair behind the helm. “Range to target?”
“Four hundred yards, sir!”
“XO,” Edwards called to another officer on the left side of the bridge. “Prepare depth charges.”