“We have no proof of that, at least not yet. It could have been someone from my time, or someone from the research program we abandoned in your time.” Corcoran swallowed two pills, washing them down with a swig of the Kentucky bourbon he’d been savoring when the shock struck. “But I’ll grant you Wilcox is the most likely suspect. Barbara should be able to figure it out pretty quick. While we wait, find Mack and Kellen and bring ‘em back here. No matter who did it, we’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
Twenty minutes later, they were gathered in the small conference room. Barbara had brought along Fiona. Mack, Kellen and Liam sat on one side of the conference table, Corcoran and the physicists on the other side.
“How bad is it?” Corcoran asked.
“Total system shutdown. The portals aren’t communicating with the time machine in the 22nd Century. The data logger shut down when the temporal tide passed us, but I was able to retrieve the data prior to that point. The transit originated at about 5:20 a.m. tomorrow and went to exactly 6:02 pm today. It didn’t take long for the temporal tide to catch up with us. There’s no question it was the Type C portal generator Mike Wilcox stole.” Barbara glanced at Liam before continuing.
“I’m guessing that the three temporal tides between us and the actual time machine are simply too much for the programming to handle. If that’s true, then it’s possible that when the temporal tide from Mike’s jump to 1988 passes thru 2110 we’ll be able to reestablish communications.”
“When will that happen?” Corcoran got up and drew a long line across the whiteboard on the wall. He added little hash marks, labeling them 1832, 1834, 1988, 2020, 2028, and 2110 so he could visualize the problem.
“Right now that wave is in about 2043, so it’ll hit 2110 in roughly ten years. But obviously I can’t guarantee the problem will self-repair when that occurs.” Barbara stood and added hashes to the timeline in 2043 and 1844. “I can get you specific dates in an hour or so.”
“Can we build our own time machine?” Kellen asked.
“Probably not,” Fiona replied. “I’ve been through the entire archives in the SPLMs and I haven’t found any of the designs. If it’s in there, it’s well hidden.”
“So all we can do is pray the problem fixes itself in ten fucking years?” Liam growled.
“There’s one other possibility,” Barbara ventured. “It’s possible that the portal generators stopped working because somebody in the 22nd Century deliberately blocked our access after they detected the additional time jump. All of our generators were synched with the time machine in the living universe. But there’re billions upon trillions of artifacts of the time machine in temporal artifacts of the 22nd Century. We know that Mike Wilcox synched his portal generator with one of those, although we’ve never found out which one. If someone deliberately blocked our access to the time machine in the living universe, it’s conceivable that they haven’t been able to block Mike’s access to an artifact of the time machine in a dead universe --.”
“So, if we can get our hands on Mike’s portal generator, it might still work?” Corcoran asked before she could finish. Barbara and Fiona both agreed that it was a slim but real possibility.
“Liam, give us a plan by morning for bringing Mike, Ms. Mannheim, and most importantly, their portal generator back here ASAP. They’re still located near Springfield, Virginia?” When Barbara nodded, he went on. “First we have to deal with the more immediate threat.” Turning to Mack, Corcoran asked, “Without accessing any temporal artifacts, can we deal with the British regiments if they march south from Lower Canada using conventional weapons?”
“I’d planned on having access to some of the modern artillery systems we left stored in the artifact of 2028, specifically the M270 MLRS launchers,” Mack said. “And having a few days to train seventh squad on them.”
“Hindsight being twenty-twenty,” Kellen said, “we should have brought at least one piece of every major system through before now. But I’m sure we’ll have the know-how to build early 21st Century weaponry before the American Civil War breaks out.”
“Especially if we let the Republic’s general population start using the SPLMs,” Barbara added.
Corcoran nodded, and continued, “It’ll take time to build up the industrial base, and we’ll need to acquire a source of raw materials.”
“As far as stopping the British,” Mack said, “it’ll be significantly more difficult, and we’ll take more casualties. But I believe we can still handle ’em.” Mack had relaxed a bit during the conversation.
“We’ve got six Geckos we haven’t fielded yet. I’m thinking we create one squad of three Geckos and give each platoon leader one. The M47 grenade launchers will come in damn handy.” Liam had also settled down to a simmer. “We’ve got the Raider helicopter, but I’d like to use that to go after Wilcox.”
“I concur. Let’s get your best squad training on the Geckos,” Corcoran ordered. Everyone headed out to get working. Corcoran went back to his office for another Tylenol. There was a line of people waiting to see him, starting with his secretary, who reported that Dr. Sheila Flynn needed to speak to him right away.
“We’ve got a packed house in the emergency department,” Sheila reported when he returned her call. “There are at least six serious injuries as a result of the sudden onset of vertigo, ranging from third degree burns to broken bones, and one fatality.”
“Damnú! Who is it? Corcoran asked. “How’d it happen?”
“Mellissa Carver was on horseback when the vertigo hit. Apparently both she and the horse went down, and she snapped her neck.”
The day was going from bad to worse.
* * *
Republic of Indian Stream, Friday, July 25, 1834
The next morning Corcoran called an emergency meeting of the Assembly. As Supreme Councilor and Minister of Defense & Border Protection, he presented a bill requiring all males between the ages of nineteen and forty-five to join the Militia. Any male that could not serve could be replaced by a female family member within the target age group, if she met certain physical and mental fitness standards. While passage of the bill only resulted in the accessing of six additional men and three women, it sent a strong signal to the entire population that the Republic was not going to back down from the confrontation with the British.
After the meeting, Corcoran asked Kellen and Mack to come back to his office to discuss their strategy, should the British come at them with everything they had.
“They’ve got two regiments at most, minus the one battalion we destroyed.” Kellen walked over to the large map of the Republic mounted on the wall of Corcoran’s office. “Unless they decide to come through Vermont and up the River Road, they really only have two routes-of-march available, assuming they’re going to bring along artillery and enough supplies to feed themselves.”
“They could come eastward over Hall’s Stream as the two previous incursions have done.” Mack pointed first to the Tabor Notch approach, where they had stopped them two days earlier. “Or, they could take this unnamed horse path that crosses into the Republic from Lower Canada, about a kilometer north of Third Connecticut Lake. The horse path continues down to the northern edge of Second Connecticut Lake, where it turns into a two-lane gravel road. It’s the easiest route down into the heart of the Republic from the north, and the one I’d choose.” Mack had traced the second path on the map as he spoke.
“Either way, we should have plenty of advance warning from the Shadow drones.” Kellen nodded towards the monitor behind Corcoran’s desk, which showed the video feed from one of the drones. It was set to infrared, and showed nothing but trackless forest below, with the occasional deer or bear moving around.
“How do you plan to stop ‘em?” Corcoran asked.
“The terrain is very difficult along both routes, which favors the defense,” Mack said. “Once the British commander has committed to one path or the other, we can set up a series of obstacles and cover them with direct small
arms fire and indirect fire from the mortars. If he takes the northern route we can trade space for time, and chew him up with the mortars. If he takes the western route, we have less space to trade, but the mountainsides are steeper, so he’ll have less room to maneuver. Of course, if he sends one regiment along each path and manages to coordinate his attacks well enough that we can’t shift the mortars, we’ll have a problem.”
“I don’t think he’ll do that,” Kellen said. “His first battalion got beat up badly, and the British are strong believers in the principle of mass. He knows he outnumbers us, so I think he’ll put all his eggs in one basket.”
Corcoran agreed, but also directed them to develop a detailed contingency plan in case they were wrong.
“As far as the possibility that they could come through Vermont, have Sheriff Sawyer talk to Colonel Howard in Essex County. Let him know that the British might be considering a move on us through his county. Suggest he consider upping his patrols along the border. If the British see that they’ve increased their vigilance, they probably won’t try to slip though unnoticed.”
Looking out his window, Corcoran could see the west wall of Fort Evergreen. Halfway up, in the center of the wall, sat container number 239. He didn’t want to contemplate using the weapons it contained, but with the fate of billions in the balance, he’d nuke a couple British regiments if it became necessary, even if that meant blanketing a portion of the Republic and a good chunk of Maine in radioactive fallout.
11 - DWIGHT
Dragon Fire II Mortar System: a 120mm auto-loading, high-angle mortar with a rate of fire of ten rounds per minute (maximum), 4 rounds per minute (sustained). The maximum range is 8,200 meters with a circle error probable of 15 meters or less at 5,600 meters. The system has a computerized fire control system, and can be mounted on a trailer or in a wheeled or tracked combat vehicle. Ammunition includes rifled or smoothbore high explosive, smoke, and illumination rounds. Glossary, An Illustrated History of the Republic, Helen O’Shea, Ed.
Republic of Indian Stream, Thursday, July 31, 1834
Dwight buried his wife three days after the mysterious and still unexplained attack of mass vertigo. Raising nine-year-old Jennifer was now his sole responsibility, and he was determined that Mellissa would be proud of the girl as she watched from heaven.
While Dwight and Jennifer grieved, the British Army’s senior commander in Lower Canada took his time organizing a counter-attack. He gathered both dragoon regiments in La Patrie, clearly intending to drive directly south into the Republic, just as Mack predicted. His attempt at surprise was thwarted when a Shadow drone spotted the buildup.
Counting flags, cannons, and horses, the Shadow drone operators reported that the British force was composed of seventeen dragoon companies and five artillery batteries, with just over two thousand men.
Mack had offered to let Dwight sit out the coming battle, but Dwight knew his duty, and refused to stand down, especially with Lieutenant Keating away on some mission in the States. Kellen and Aileen Coyle had assured him they would take care of Jennifer if anything happened to him in the fight.
Dwight had noticed a subtle change in attitude among all the members of the Fallon Party since Mellissa’s death. They seemed to have lost a bit of their cockiness. Perhaps the mass vertigo event had made them more aware of their mortality.
As the British marched south, Dwight awaited them in the Gecko that served as Mack’s mobile command post. The Gecko was another amazing weapon of war the BLE had bestowed on the Militia. Mack was in the commander’s seat to his right, and Private Amanda Jones was seated in the center-mounted driver’s seat in front of them. After taking six hours to learn how to operate the various on-board systems, Dwight and Private Jones had spent two days alternately roaming the Republic and firing on the range, in order to get a feel for the system. At present, they were parked on a horse path near the south end of Third Connecticut Lake. The dense pine forest closed in tight on either side of the vehicle.
Mack had dispatched one squad from Keating’s platoon to set up a covered and concealed observation post near the border. They were given orders to clear all of the civilians out of the area east of the lake as they moved north. He positioned the remainder of the company on good ground just north of the command post, except for seventh squad’s Dragon Fire II mortar launchers, which he positioned four kilometers to the south. The mortars could easily reach all the way to the border from there.
About halfway down the one-and-a-half kilometer-long lake, the horse path moved away from the shore and climbed a long, slow rise through heavy forest, a perfect place for an abatis. Most of the men in the company had begun their employment with BLE as lumberjacks, and they knew exactly how to create a maze of crisscrossed fallen trees, so Mack had them break out the chainsaws and get to work. Two hours later, they had a hundred-meter-wide barrier in front of their position that extended fifty meters on either side of the path. No horse would be able to cross that barrier, and clearing it under fire would take time. The mortars would be working the column over the whole time.
At the base of hill, where the horse path made its closest approach to the lake, there was another surprise awaiting the British.
“Top, why don’t you go take a last look at the troop positions on the flanks?” Mack said. It was an old Army tradition that First Sergeants were called Top by their officers and their subordinate sergeants, just as the Company Commander was called “The Old Man” by his troops, although never to his face.
“Yes sir,” Dwight replied, and climbed out of the Gecko. He understood Mack’s concern. Their position could be flanked by British troops moving through the woods on either side of the horse path. There wasn’t a lot of room to the west between the lake and the path, but it was more than enough for a dismounted battalion of dragoons to maneuver. To the east, the heavy forest rose sharply to a high ridge. Again, dismounted dragoons had room to maneuver, but the going would be slow. Mack had asked BLE security to position Shadow surveillance drones to cover his flanks. Dwight hoped it would be enough to give them warning of a flank attack. Nevertheless, he had told the two platoon leaders to position one of their fire teams to guard their flanks.
Dwight stopped at each foxhole and talked to the troops manning it. “Be sure to keep a sharp eye,” he said to each of the teams in turn. “They’ll have a hell of a time getting to us on the main path, so I expect ‘em to try and get round our obstacles through the woods. Don’t count on seeing their red coats – they may ditch them if they decide to come at us through the forest.”
Dwight checked that each team had good fields of fire, had deployed a compliment of claymore mines in front of their position, and that they had prepared calls-for-fire with the correct coordinates for the mortar crews. Then he headed back to the command post.
Inside the Gecko there were four twelve-by-twenty-inch monitors. One of them showed the view from the mast-mounted camera six meters above the vehicle’s roof, which was pointed north along the horse path, looking over the top of the abatis. A second monitor gave the view from the gun camera on the CROWS unit mounted just behind the hatches above Mack’s and Dwight’s heads. Another showed the view from a similar gun camera on a Gecko stationed near the north end of the lake. The last monitor had an overhead shot of the British column, provided by a Shadow drone flying above them.
“Here we go,” said Mack.
“Rogah that. How far south are we gonna let ‘em come before opening fire?”
“Keating’s first squad should call in a fire mission as soon as the first battalion clears the international boundary.” As if on cue, they heard the fire mission request on the fire control net.
About eighteen seconds later, Sergeant Sullivan reported “Shot, Out,” indicating that the rounds were on the way. Ten seconds later, the Shadow feed showed the beginning of a planned one-minute-long barrage. When the last of twenty rounds had exploded among the British column, Liam’s squad leader reported, “Splash, Out.”
Mack got on the radio and ordered the mortars to cease fire for a bit, to see what the British would do.
A reasonable man would have taken the loss of a second full battalion as a sign that maybe the odds were not in his favor, but the British commander was evidently not a sensible man. They kept coming.
The next obstacle was located at the base of the hill where the path was separated from the lake by only a small meadow. About fifteen meters north of the meadow a small stream crossed the path before draining into the lake. Five meters south of the stream the militia had buried a large demolition charge. Concealed at the southern edge of the meadow were three Geckos.
Mack and Dwight intently watched the feed from the mast-mounted camera on one of those Geckos. When the leading edge of the reorganized British formation reached the edge of the meadow, Mack tapped an icon on the screen and the demolition charge exploded with a deafening sound, even though it was almost a kilometer away from Mack and Dwight. Men and horses flew into the air and came down in pieces that couldn’t be put back together.
A ten-meter-diameter crater now blocked the path, and the small stream was flowing into it, creating a muddy mess. Getting their cannon and supply wagons through that would be near impossible. Still the British came on.
The dragoons worked their way through the woods around the crater. When the first horsemen emerged into the small meadow, the three Geckos stationed there opened fire with their 40mm programmable grenade launchers and 5.56mm squad automatic weapons.
The firefight lasted about ten minutes, during which dozens of British dragoons fell. Mack had given the squad leader strict instructions to conduct a retrograde operation when the British had gotten sufficient numbers into the meadow to potentially overrun his position, or when their ammo ran low. Dwight switched the feed from the mast-mounted camera when it began to descend, bringing up the gun camera on the same Gecko. There was a counter at the bottom of the screen that indicated the remaining rounds of 40mm ammo in the feed belt. It was now flashing the number ‘five’ in red text.
The Legend of Indian Stream Page 7
