D-Day

by Bob Mayer

  “To keep a nuclear war from starting,” Dane said. “Once India and Pakistan started flexing their nuclear muscles, escalating the testing, people in power got worried. International Sanctions were imposed on both countries after the first test, but things appeared to be going off the rails, and neither India nor Pakistan paid much heed. There was too much national pride at stake. The situation was getting worse. When politicians get worried, they usually try to find a military solution to a problem they can’t fix any other way. Kali’s job was, and still is, to prevent the use of those weapons by infiltrating Pakistan and securing the warheads.”

  “That’s a suicide mission,” Doc said.

  “It’s viewed more as political leverage,” Dane said. “The Pakistanis would have to kill American soldiers in order to get to the nukes.”

  “If the team can get to the nukes in the first place,” Doc said. He wasn’t buying the snake oil. “And, skipping over how these soldiers are going to infiltrate Pakistan and seize what is probably the most highly-guarded place in the country, do you actually think if Pakistan makes the decision to use those nuclear weapons, they’re going to care about a handful of American soldiers?”

  Dane shrugged. “I didn’t make the plan. But you have to remember that a small American force in West Berlin kept the peace for a long time as a tripwire. The Berlin Brigade was always more a show of force than a reality of force.”

  “Okay,” Doc said, trying to process all this. “I’m part of this task force based in the UAE. What happens on the sixth of June, 1998?”

  “Told you.” Dane spread his hands. “Nothing. At least, in our history that we can determine.”

  “That’s brilliant,” Doc said, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Just great.”

  “A null mission,” Ivar said.

  “Huh?” Roland said.

  Ivar clarified. “Making sure nothing happens as opposed to doing something.”

  “Oh,” Roland said. “Like mine. Let Beowulf kill Grendel.”

  “Don’t assume you’re on a null mission,” Dane said. “Any of you.” He paused. “Even though it seems most are shaping up that way.”

  Moms spoke up. “A null isn’t a null. The Shadow will try something. It might not even be what we think. Any of us could be the target, just like Scout was on Black Tuesday. No matter what it is, each of us is going to have to do something.”

  “This FOB is a thousand miles from Pakistan,” Doc noted. “What can I do from there?”

  “We don’t know what you’re supposed to do,” Dane said. “For all we know, the problem could be internal to the Task Force. It might not have anything to do with the warheads, or even Pakistan. The data is fuzzy with a lot of uncertainty.”

  “‘The data is fuzzy’?” Doc repeated. “More than usual?”

  “More than usual,” Dane said.

  “But it’s the closest mission,” Doc pointed out. “Time-wise.”

  “There is no such thing as ‘close,’” Dane said, “when it comes to time travel. In fact, the less time that has passed, the less data we have, as the variables are more numerous. Something farther back in the past has fewer possibilities.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Moms said. “Seems it should be the opposite.”

  “Overall, among the multiverse, yes,” Dane agreed. “But in just our timeline, no. The closer we are to it, the more possibilities.”

  Doc thought for a moment. “In 1998, all of Pakistan’s nuclear material was consolidated, wasn’t it?”

  “The public stance,” Dane said, “was that their nuclear weapons were demated. That means the warheads are kept separate from their fissile cores and the delivery systems. The Pakistanis claim that’s still true, but no one really believes it. In ‘98, the fissile material, at the very least, was stored at a Depot in the Kala Chitta Range in northwest Pakistan. That was Task Force Kali’s objective. The place was abandoned in the early part of this century. The good news is that because it was abandoned, Foreman’s CIA contacts were able to gather the plans for the place, since no one considers it important anymore.”

  “Is the Shadow trying to get Pakistan to attack India on the sixth of June, 1998?” Moms asked.

  “We don’t know,” Dane said. “Since 1947 when they divided, they’ve had four official wars, all of which Pakistan has lost. Add in a number of border skirmishes, and it’s one of the tensest and most volatile places on the planet. An easy place to toss a match into.” He turned to Doc. “You’ll get everything about Task Force Kali, its plans, its personnel, all of it, in the download.”

  He ended that line of discussion by pointing the chalk at Ivar, who was running a finger around the tight collar of the dress gray coat, trying to make it wider even though he had a skinny neck.

  6 June 1843 A.D., United States Military Academy, West Point, New York, Dane wrote. “The West Point class of 1843 is to graduate on the first of July,” he said.

  Everyone waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

  “And...?” Ivar prompted.

  “And we have no idea what’s supposed to happen on the sixth of June,” Dane said. “We just picked up the ripples from it. They were very widespread, but not specific. Whatever happened didn’t have an immediate effect, but a lot of very large, long-term ripples years afterward. One that absolutely will become a Cascade if unchecked.” He indicated Edith. “Give him some background.”

  “The West Point class of 1843,” Edith began, “contained—”

  “Ulysses S. Grant,” Moms said.

  “Yes,” Edith said. “Researching that date and that location, he is the most historically significant person present at the Academy.”

  “What if the target is someone or something else?” Ivar asked.

  “The target could be anything or anyone,” Dane allowed.

  “Stonewall Jackson and George Pickett are also there,” Edith said. “They won’t graduate until 1846. Pickett will be last in his class. And many of those West Pointers in that era affected history in different ways. Most of them fought in the Mexican War, the result of which greatly expanded the territory of the United States. And later, many were senior officers in the Civil War, on both sides.”

  “The target could be the Academy itself,” Moms said. “There was a very strong movement at various times to dismantle it. Davy Crockett tried to pass a bill abolishing West Point. Grant himself wasn’t too big on the Academy in later years. If you took out the Academy somehow, let’s say by causing a great scandal instigating a demand for it to be shut down, think of all the people who won’t have graduated and eventually gone into the positions they did: Grant, Lee, Eisenhower, MacArthur, Patton, Pershing. It’s a long list.”

  “How much do you know about horses?” Edith asked Ivar.

  “Horses?” Ivar shook his head. “They’ve got four legs.”

  “I can ride,” Scout said.

  “We know you can,” Dane said. “And we’d love to have you go on this mission, but unfortunately, women weren’t admitted into the Academy until 1976.”

  “Why do I need to know something about horses?” Ivar asked.

  “Grant was a master horseman,” Edith said. “At some point that month, he set an Academy record for jumping a horse that stood for over a quarter century. As near as I can pin it down, it might well have been on the sixth of June.”

  “I’ve never ridden a horse,” Ivar said.

  “Don’t worry,” Dane said. “Edith has made sure your download contains everything you need to know about that, and a lot more.”

  “That didn’t work too good for me,” Roland noted.

  “Grant is the one who has to jump the horse, right?” Ivar said.

  “Forget about it for now,” Dane said. “It most likely won’t come up as an issue for you. Just keep an eye on Grant.”

  “There’s something else about Grant we should consider,” Edith said.

  “What?” Dane asked, a bit sharper than necessary, but he wanted to get on wit
h the briefing.

  “His best two subjects at the Academy were mathematics and art,” Edith said. “That exemplifies a very unique mind, since those talents are in two different parts of the brain. He studied under the Romantic artist Robert Walter Wheeler while at the Academy. Given what’s happening at the Met, that could have some significance. For all we know, Wheeler could be the target. He had many students, including James Whistler. He had a great influence on art in America.”

  “You’ll get all the information you need in the download,” Dane said, which was his fallback position, instead of saying they really didn’t know what the Shadow had planned for each bubble. He wrote the fifth date on the board: 6 June 478 B.C. Pythia, Greece.

  “Only two years after my last mission,” Scout said. “What’s in Pythia? Another battle?”

  “A sports and cultural festival,” Edith said. “The Pythian Games were one of four in a series of Panhellenic Games. With the Olympics being held every fourth year, the Pythian games were two years after, and thus two years before, each Olympics. They were held in honor of Apollo.”

  Dane stirred, always pushing Edith to stay away from info dump, because they were soon going to get an extraordinary info dump prior to departing on their mission. But Edith plowed on, displaying more courage in the face of his obstinacy than ever. “The thing about these games is that unlike our modern Olympics, which focus only on athletics, they also featured art and dance. In fact, they might be considered the blossoming of various forms of art in the Western world.”

  As Dane began to say something, Edith cut him off again. “Given that we’re seeing the art in the Met disappear, I think art is something that might factor into all the missions. In fact, the Pythian Games actually started with art and dance, and then the athletic competitions were brought in later. The legend is the Pythian Games were started after Apollo killed Python and established the Oracle at Delphi, which is where the games are held.”

  Dane held up a hand. “Lead with the headline, Edith.”

  She reached into her satchel then pulled out several photos. She passed them to Scout, who spread them out on the table so everyone could see.

  “What are we looking at?” Scout asked.

  Edith explained. “The Charioteer of Delphi is one of the best-known statues that still survives from Ancient Greece, and it dates directly back to the Pythian Games of 478. It’s considered one of the finest examples of works in bronze. The statue commemorates a victory in the chariot races. It was a life-size representation of the chariot and driver. What’s in the picture is the only part that was recovered and still exists.”

  “Existed,” Dane corrected. “It’s gone.”

  “Like the art in the Met?” Moms asked.

  Dane shook his head. “No. Not like the art in the Met. This statue actually disappeared from the Delphi Archeological Museum yesterday. The public story is that it was stolen. The video footage from the security cameras shows it snapping out of existence. The Greeks, of course, have no clue what happened. Thus, the cover story.”

  “So, for real, disappeared?” Scout said.

  Edith passed her another photo. “These are stills from the video. Note the time stamps.”

  “One second apart,” Scout said. She held two photos side-by-side. “There, and not there.”

  “What about other museums?” Eagle asked. “Is art disappearing for real from them?”

  Edith answered. “We don’t know. Only those of us who are Time Patrol can see what’s happening in the Met. A check of the database indicates that the Charioteer is the only significant piece of art that’s really vanished.”

  “What that might mean,” Dane said, “is that it’s the first direct assault on art by the Shadow. Not the result of a ripple in time, which is what we’re picking up in the Met.”

  “The Charioteer,” Edith said, “is part of the beginning of art. And with its disappearance, we’re seeing the beginning of the end of it.”

  “‘’Now this is not the end’,’” Eagle quoted. “‘It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning’. ”

  “Huh?” Roland said.

  “Churchill,” Eagle said. “A speech he made early in World War II, when things were looking pretty bleak.”

  Edith surprised everyone by quoting the same speech. “’But in the end all the oppositions fell together, and all our foes submitted themselves to our will’.”

  For once, Dane wasn’t in a rush to move forward.

  Moms finally broke the silence. “Good words to bear with us. We will prevail.”

  A low rumble of assent came from the rest of the team.

  Scout pointed at the board. “478 is two years after Thermopylae. When I went back last time, I became a priestess of the Oracle of Delphi named Cyra. Will I inhabit her again?”

  “We don’t know,” Dane said.

  “What does Sin Fen say?” Scout asked, referring to the Time Patrol’s seer.

  “She advises you to seek counsel from the Oracle at Delphi as soon as you arrive.”

  “Right,” Scout said. “Consult an Oracle. Why don’t I consult with Sin Fen right now?”

  “She’s busy,” Dane said.

  “Doing what?” Moms asked.

  “There are other timelines,” Dane said. “And we maintain a presence in the Space Between.”

  Scout dismissed that and moved on. “What about Pandora? What’s the mythology around Delphi and the Pythian Games?”

  “Short version,” Dane said to Edith.

  Edith closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “Hera sent a serpent, Python, to chase the pregnant goddess Leto. But Leto escaped and gave birth to Artemis and Apollo.”

  “Hold on!” Moms said. “Artemis is the same as Diana in Roman mythology, right?”

  Edith nodded. “Yes. A link to the woman Roland ran into. Apollo swore vengeance on Python, but the creature fled to Delphi and hid there, burying itself in the ground. Apollo tracked it down and killed it with his bow. Unfortunately, by doing so, he’d committed a crime, and Zeus told Apollo he’d have to make amends. So he founded the games.”

  Scout tapped the table as she said each name. “Apollo. Artemis. Zeus. Python. I’d say the odds are good that Pandora shows up. And we have no idea why I’m going there and then, other than this sculpture disappearing. But you said the statue was based on a victory in the games. So it actually wasn’t created until after the sixth of June, 478 B.C., right?”

  “I have a theory based on the information forwarded from the Time Patrol agent of the era.” Edith gave a sideways glance at Dane. He nodded, giving her theory permission to be aired. “The person who sculpted the Charioteer of Delphi was Pythagoras of Samos.”

  “The Pythagoras?” Eagle said. “As in the Pythagorean theorem? The philosopher?”

  “No math,” Roland muttered. “Please. No math.”

  “Ditto on that,” Scout said.

  Edith’s uncertainty was clear. “Whether Pythagoras the sculptor and Pythagoras the mathematician and philosopher are the same person is debated among historians. Most believe the mathematician lived earlier, roughly 570 to 495, which means he was dead by this time. Yet others believe those dates are off. They point to the fact that the mathematician was from Samos, and the sculptor signed his work Pythagoras of Samos. And the mathematician also dabbled in music and other arts.”

  “Please stop saying math,” Roland muttered.

  “Regardless,” Edith said, “if it is the same man, he had a very powerful influence in both the sciences and philosophy. And art.”

  “Math and art,” Ivar said. “Like Grant’s two best subjects at West Point.”

  “Exactly,” Edith said.

  “You said the agent indicated they might be the same,” Scout said.

  “Yes,” Edith said.

  “And who is that?” Scout asked.

  “The Oracle at Delphi,” Edith said.

  Scout nodded. “I’ll keep an e
ye out for Pythagoras, then, and consult the Oracle. But I just find it way too much coincidence that with all of history for the Shadow to pick, this is only two years after my last mission. And I wonder—” She didn’t finish her statement.

  “Wonder what?” Dane asked.

  “I made a promise to King Leonidas,” Scout said. “He asked me—rather, he asked Cyra, who I was inhabiting—to go back to his wife and daughter and to teach his daughter.”

  “Teach her what?” Moms asked.

  “To be like me,” Scout said. “Rather, to be like Cyra. Apparently, she impressed him a lot during their journey from Delphi to Thermopylae.”

  “We have no idea whether his widow and child will be at the Games,” Edith said. “Surely, there will be some Spartans competing.”

  “I don’t see how such a personal thing would have the focus of the Shadow,” Dane said. Which they all recognized was an excuse for him to move on.

  Except he didn’t write anything on the board. For the first time since the team had met him in the Space Between and he’d given them the choice to join the Time Patrol, he appeared uncertain.

  “It’s that bad?” Moms asked.

  “It’s unprecedented,” Dane said. He sat at the table with the team and Edith, which was also unprecedented. He nodded toward the interior door, which led to the spiral deck overlooking the Possibility Palace. “When we look down into the spiral, we see the past. The time spiral goes down a long way, but not to the bottom of the Possibility Palace. We don’t know where the bottom is.”

  “I wanted to ask about that,” Doc said.

  “Our first analyst desk begins with recorded history,” Dane said. “The time spiral ends there. But when you look down from the edge at that point, the pit goes farther down. We can’t see the bottom. It’s almost like the view up, fading into a gray mist. Prehistory.”

  “Is there a bottom?” Eagle asked.

  “We don’t know,” Dane said. “There certainly was a starting point for Earth, and for mankind. We’d have to assume one of those is the very bottom. The Alpha Point.”

  “So I’m going into prehistory,” Moms said. “Before your first desk’s time? How far?”