Ides of March (Time Patrol) (8 page)

“Edith,” Dane nodded.

She reached into her satchel and brought out a small leather pouch, which she handled as if it were explosive. She walked to the table, opened the drawstrings, and gingerly deposited a single item onto the table in front of Doc.

He picked up the wooden icon. A hand-painted Virgin Mary on one side. On the other, five signatures in Russian. “What is it?”

“It’s your key,” Dane said.

“To what?”

“For getting close to the last Tsarina,” Edith said. “Empress Consort Alexandra Feodorovna, wife of Tsar Nicholas the Second; the last Tsar.” She pointed. “The signatures are her own and her daughter’s, the duchesses. It’s dated 11 December 1916. Only 19 days before Rasputin was killed. It was on his body at the time. The tale of what happened to his body is complex and you’ll get that in your download.” She gave a sideways glance at Dane, who gave a twitch of a smile in approval of her brevity. “It was reportedly stolen from Rasputin’s corpse just before it was burned. The icon disappeared.”

Doc looked up. “Then how did you find it?”

“That’s her job,” Dane said, “and she’s the best in the world at it.”

Edith flushed again, a deeper red than before.

“Sooo,” Doc said, drawing the word out. “Rasputin is dead and I’m showing up with something stolen from his corpse?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Dane said.

“It will get the Tsarina’s attention,” Edith said. “She was utterly devoted to Rasputin. She believed he saved her son, Alexei’s, life. He was heir to the throne but a hemophiliac. Also known as the Royal Disease. Many of the Royalty at the time were related and Queen Victoria, the Grandmother of Alexandra, passed it on to quite few of them. It only manifests in males—”

“I know what the disease is,” Doc said.

“He has a lot of PhD’s,” Mac said. “He usually starts conversations with that.”

“And I’m a physician,” Doc added.

“Hence the Doc,” Mac said.

“And once you get the data download,” Dane said, “you’ll know more about the entire era than anyone.”

Doc looked at the others. “Is this the way Black Tuesday’s briefing went?”

“Pretty much,” Mac said.

“I can see why you were pissed,” Doc said.

“We’re giving you all we have,” Dane said.

“So I’m meeting with the Tsarina,” Doc said, putting the icon back in the leather pouch and then in his coat. “Why 15 March?”

Edith beat Eagle to the history. “On 15 March 1917 Tsar Nicholas II, Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias, abdicated. It was the end of Russia under the Tsars. Technically, the first Tsar was Ivan IV Vasilyevich—”

“Better known as Ivan the Terrible,” Eagle said, getting a historical jab back in.

“In 1533. That monarchy ended on 15 March 1917, ushering in what became the Soviet Union.”

All Doc could do was nod as the implication sunk in.

“Why the Tsarina and not the Tsar?”

Dane gave Doc the look. Doc slumped back in his chair. He put the icon back in the pouch and held it out to Edith.

“You keep that,” Edith said. “It’s your key to getting the Tsarina’s attention if you need it. The Tsarina, the duchesses, and Alexei, were holed up in the Alexander Palace just outside Petrograd, what we call St. Petersburg. The Tsar was there also.”

“That’s where you’re going,” Dane said. He pointed at Edith. “We’ve made a few adjustments in mission prep since Black Tuesday. The icon is one example. Where we can, we’ll give you talismans to assist in the mission. Edith?”

She pulled a piece of cloth out of her satchel and handed it to Eagle. “That is the original Badge of Military Merit.”

Eagle took it reverently. “The first Purple Heart.”

“It’s commonly known as that,” Edith said, referring to something that was only commonly known to her and Eagle. “But actually, it was announced by Washington in 1782 as an award for exceptional bravery. It’s considered the first time in modern military history where an award was designed for enlisted men. At the time, all awards went to officers and—”

“Figures,” Mac said.

Edith was growing used to Mac and didn’t miss a beat: “Washington came up with it not just for gallantry but for extraordinary service in any way. He said, and I quote: ‘
The road to glory in a Patriot Army and a free country is open to all
’.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Scout said.

Eagle nodded. “It is indeed. I keep this?”

“Yes,” Dane said. “Use it if necessary to get Washington’s attention.”

“Do we all get something?” Roland asked, hoping perhaps for a better sword.

Dane pointed. “Scout has the Naga staff. Doc the icon. Eagle the Badge. We don’t have anything specific to a key person on that day for the rest of you.”

“But I’ve gone through all the downloads,” Edith said. “I’ve supplemented them with some extra information you might find useful.”

“We appreciate that,” Moms said.

Dane slid the chalk across the board. “We’re to the last year.”

15 March 480 B.C. THERMOPYLAE, GREECE

“The Gates of Fire,” Eagle said.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Scout said.

“The Three Hundred Spartans,” Eagle added.

“Oh. I’ve seen the movie,” Scout said. “Lots of bare-chested, muscular guys on steroids running around hacking at each other. But if I remember rightly, the ending isn’t so great. For them at least.”

“That’s about the only part they got right,” Dane said. “You’re going on the last day of the battle.”

“That sounds even worse,” Scout said. “Which side am I on?”

“Our side,” Dane answered. “The side of our timeline. The Spartans are defeated, but they slow the Persians enough so that eventually they are turned back.”

“Saving what is known as Western Civilization,” Edith added.

“Okay,” Scout said. “Why do I have this?” She tapped the haft of the Naga staff. “Am I supposed to fight?”

Dane turned to Edith Frobish. “Thank you.”

Edith took the hint and headed for the door. Before she could get out, Doc leaned over and tapped her arm. He whispered something to her. She nodded and departed.

“Your mission,” Dane said to Scout, as soon as the door shut, “is, for lack of a better word, cloudy.”

“They’re all pretty cloudy,” Moms said. “What’s different about Scout’s?”

“We received a report from Amelia Earhart out of the Space Between,” Dane said. “There’s been some unusual activity there. And it’s directed at this time and place.” He tapped the line at the bottom of the chalkboard.

“What kind of activity?” Moms asked.

“It appears that other Earth timelines besides the Shadow’s are interested in it,” Dane said.

“Don’t they have their own Thermopylae?” Scout asked.

“Of course,” Dane said. “But that date, that year, seems to be a key connecting point in some way between timelines. A strong one. What that means?” he asked, before any of the others could. “That this event, in our timeline, affects more than just us. It affects other timelines.”

“Good or bad?” Scout asked.

“It depends on what you do,” Dane said.

“Vague much?” Scout said.

“When we first me you in the Space Between,” Moms said, “you told us you were the Administrator of the Time Patrol. Across multiple timelines, not just ours. You have to know more.”

“Think on this,” Dane said. “If we have to compartmentalize information for security purposes, don’t you think we have to compartmentalize timelines for the same reason? On top of that, there’s the
vagaries of the variables
. I know it sounds like a cheap catch-phrase, but it’s the reality we all have to deal with. You know too little you screw things up. You know too much, you screw things up. That’s the reason the iron-clad rule for the Time Patrol is that you can never disclose information about the future to someone you meet in the past. By doing so you can change the future.”

“The first rule of Fight Club,” Mac said. “And the second.”

Scout indicated the Naga staff again. “Why do I have it? And where did you get it?”

“It’s the one from the Valkyrie your team killed underneath the Met,” Dane said.

“You think I’m going to run into a Valkyrie?”

“Hey, I ran into one on my mission,” Roland complained, “and I didn’t get the staffy thing.”

“We don’t know what you’re going to run into,” Dane said, “but if Earhart is concerned, then the Space Between is very close to this mission. Best to be prepared. And—” Dane paused.

“What?” Scout said. “Give me the bad news. I mean the bad news beyond the bad news you’ve already given me.”

“Sin Fen said you had to be the one that went on this particular mission,” Dane said, referring to the mystical woman they’d met in the Space Between and during the last debrief.

“Because I have the sight,” Scout said.

“That would be most likely,” Dane agreed.

“Where is she?” Scout asked.

“She’s with Earhart,” Dane said. “In the Space Between. Trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“And if she figures it out,” Scout said, “will anyone tell me?”

“Once you go back, we can’t reach you.” Dane put the piece of chalk down. “I know all of you have an infinite number of questions, but that’s it. Time to get your downloads, then go.”

“You know,” Roland said, “I just realized something.”

Mac opened his mouth to say something, but Scout gave him a look that stopped it before it made air.

“My download from Black Tuesday,” Roland said. “It’s gone.”

The other members, minus Doc, who’d gone on Black Tuesday missions were suddenly aware that theirs was too.

“That’s weird,” Eagle said. “I didn’t even realize it.”

“You didn’t,” Dane said, “because any information you didn’t have before the download was time-coded for just a little over twenty-four hours. Don’t ask me how it works, but be grateful. You don’t have unlimited data storage in your brains.”

Mac glanced at Scout, and then slumped back in the chair, not uttering another zinger at Roland.

“Where’s Ivar?” Eagle asked.

“He’s staying behind for this one,” Dane said. “He’s going to do some work here, pursuing a line of investigation that Doc initiated.”

“Is there something wrong with him?” Moms asked. “He was pretty shaken up after what happened to him.”

“He’s fine,” Dane said, a bit too quickly, causing Moms and Eagle to share another concerned look. “Everybody ready?”

“We need a moment,” Moms said.

Dane understood. He departed, leaving the six of them alone.

Moms stood up and the rest followed suit. “We have to keep some of our traditions from the Nightstalker’ days. Even though we go on these missions alone, we’re still a team. We have to hold on to that. It’s the base we need to stay grounded, especially given how crazy this whole thing is. Makes a Firefly in a killer rabbit look pretty normal.”

That elicited a few chuckles from who’d participated in the
Fun Outside Tucson
.

Moms looked around the table, meeting each member of the team’s gaze for a few seconds before moving to the next.

“All right,” she said. “Why are we here? Because someone has to man the walls in the middle of the night. Someone has to man the walls between our world and other worlds that mean us harm. The walls between the innocents who go to sleep each night with only the troubles they see in their lives. Normal troubles. Not about Kings and Emperor’s and Valkyries. But about their families. Their little piece of the world.

“The regular, ordinary people who know little of the dangers, the nightmares, surrounding our world. Who need people like us to stand watch over them. To protect them from the Shadow and the forces it sends against our timeline, trying to obliterate us and everyone we know, and everyone we love, from existence.

“We fight against things like the Valkyries and the kraken and double-agents and whatever else is sent against us. We defeated Fireflies and shut Rifts as Nightstalkers. We’ve stopped the folly of man destroying our own world with nuclear weapons.”

She paused and looked at Eagle to finish, filling Nada’s void.

He cleared his throat. “We are here because the best of intentions can go horribly awry and the worst of intentions can achieve exactly what it sets out to do. It is often the noblest scientific inquiry that can produce the end of us all. We are here because we are the last defense when the desire to do right turns into a wrong. We are here because mankind advances through trial and error. Because nothing man does is ever perfect. And we are ultimately here because there are things out there, beyond mankind’s current knowledge level, which man must be guarded against until we can understand those things, as we finally understood the Rifts and the Fireflies and our role in that. We must remember this.”

Moms finished. “Can we all live with that?”

Rome, Roman Empire, 44 B.C.

MOMS WASN’T THERE AND THEN
she was there, but she’d sort of always been there. It was the best way to explain how she arrived, becoming part of her current time and place without fanfare or excitement among those around her. She was in the bubble of this day, not before, and hopefully she wouldn’t be here afterward.

Moms held a warm liver above her head in supplication, dark blood oozing around her fingers, running down her arms into her armpits.

She held it until given the order by the only other person in the chamber, an old woman.

“Put it down, Amata,” the woman said.

It is 44 B.C. Pharaoh Cleopatra VII (yeah, that one) is hanging out in one of Caesar’s country homes, causing a scandal; Comosicus succeeds Burebista as King of Dacia; duck decoys made of reeds are hidden in a cave in what would later become Lovelock, Nevada. Average life expectancy is thirty, but if a child made it to ten, then add another 37.5, making the expectancy 47.5.

Moms had blood on her hands.

Some things change; some don’t.

Moms put the liver down on a silver tray. The old woman walked around the dais, leaning heavily on a cane.

She leaned over and poked at the liver with a finger. “See that?”