covering had moved in shortly before
nightfall, forewarning us of the rainstorms that the meteorologists had
predicted for tomorrow's dawn.
At times we could see airships moving in and out of the clouds to the
east, their bellies lighted by the glow of the city burning under them,
by the flames of their own bombs exploding, and by the fainter flashes
of Imperial cannon and antiairship weapons. And once or twice as we
watched we saw an airship burst into flames, its catalyzed hydrogen,
impervious to flame most of the time, but still unstable and liable
to explode when the proper degree of heat was reached, bursting out,
lighting the undersides of the clouds with a brilliant glow. Then the
fireball would begin to fall apart as the hydrogen was consumed. And
I wondered how soon the Kriths were going to help the British "invent"
heavier-than-air craft.
But we had little time to watch what was happening or to wonder about
things. We were in the boats, in the dark river, in the shadows of the
willows and the popiars, and we were quietly paddling toward the cables
and chains that the Imperials had laid across the river to prevent just
such a venture as ours.
The lead boat held three British soldiers: a sergeant and two privates,
dressed in rubber swimming garments, equipped with cutters and saws
to hack a path for us through the cables and chains. Those three were
really what they appeared to be -- simple British soldiers given an
assignment that they didn't fully understand, but about which they asked
no questions. Not of us, at least, we officers.
I was in the second boat, sitting in the front position, a paddle
in my hands dipping softly, quietly into the dark water, moving us
forward, while we listened. My own senses, augmented by artificial
electrobiological systems, were at their peak and more acute than those
of other human beings who did not have the Timeliner modifications.
Behind me sat General Sir Gerald Asbury, dressed now in the uniform of
a common soldier, with only a glint of metal on his collar to betray
his rank. He too held a paddle and alternately dipped it right and then
left and then back to the right again. Behind him sat Ronald Kearns,
our skudder pilot, showing no emotion at all. Though he was a Timeliner
like myself, I could not fathom what was going on in his head, though
that is not strange in itself, for Kearns or whatever his real name was
was probably from a world as different from mine as mine was from the
one in which we both now found ourselves.
The third boat held Tracy and the two corporals who had been guarding
the house in which we had met with Kar-hinter.
In the final boat there was another corporal and two privates, at least
that is what their British uniforms said they were, though like the
rest of us, save for the three in the leading, boat and Sir Gerald,
they were men from worlds other than this, men who moved across the
parallel branches of time fighting a war for the Kriths that would not
end for two thousand years.
We Timeliners have a lot of history in front of us.
"How much farther do you think it is?" I heard Kearns ask.
"A good distance," Sir Gerald answered. "We are still a mile or two
short of the German lines, as best I can estimate, and the villa is a
good five miles beyond that."
"Several hours then?" Kearns asked.
"At the rate we're going, yes," Sir Gerald whispered back. "We will be
doing very well for ourselves to have the count in our hands by dawn."
"We'll have him before dawn," I said over my shoulder.
"I hope so, Mathers," said Sir Gerald.
"I know damned well, sir," I replied. "We don't have any other choice."
"It's your show," Sir Gerald whispered, bitterly. "I'm just an observer."
I said nothing, for it was true. This wasn't a British patrol. It was
strictly Krithian and Timeliner. The poor British were only causing a
distraction for us, a bloody, nasty, costly distraction that Sir Gerald
hated with all his
nightfall, forewarning us of the rainstorms that the meteorologists had
predicted for tomorrow's dawn.
At times we could see airships moving in and out of the clouds to the
east, their bellies lighted by the glow of the city burning under them,
by the flames of their own bombs exploding, and by the fainter flashes
of Imperial cannon and antiairship weapons. And once or twice as we
watched we saw an airship burst into flames, its catalyzed hydrogen,
impervious to flame most of the time, but still unstable and liable
to explode when the proper degree of heat was reached, bursting out,
lighting the undersides of the clouds with a brilliant glow. Then the
fireball would begin to fall apart as the hydrogen was consumed. And
I wondered how soon the Kriths were going to help the British "invent"
heavier-than-air craft.
But we had little time to watch what was happening or to wonder about
things. We were in the boats, in the dark river, in the shadows of the
willows and the popiars, and we were quietly paddling toward the cables
and chains that the Imperials had laid across the river to prevent just
such a venture as ours.
The lead boat held three British soldiers: a sergeant and two privates,
dressed in rubber swimming garments, equipped with cutters and saws
to hack a path for us through the cables and chains. Those three were
really what they appeared to be -- simple British soldiers given an
assignment that they didn't fully understand, but about which they asked
no questions. Not of us, at least, we officers.
I was in the second boat, sitting in the front position, a paddle
in my hands dipping softly, quietly into the dark water, moving us
forward, while we listened. My own senses, augmented by artificial
electrobiological systems, were at their peak and more acute than those
of other human beings who did not have the Timeliner modifications.
Behind me sat General Sir Gerald Asbury, dressed now in the uniform of
a common soldier, with only a glint of metal on his collar to betray
his rank. He too held a paddle and alternately dipped it right and then
left and then back to the right again. Behind him sat Ronald Kearns,
our skudder pilot, showing no emotion at all. Though he was a Timeliner
like myself, I could not fathom what was going on in his head, though
that is not strange in itself, for Kearns or whatever his real name was
was probably from a world as different from mine as mine was from the
one in which we both now found ourselves.
The third boat held Tracy and the two corporals who had been guarding
the house in which we had met with Kar-hinter.
In the final boat there was another corporal and two privates, at least
that is what their British uniforms said they were, though like the
rest of us, save for the three in the leading, boat and Sir Gerald,
they were men from worlds other than this, men who moved across the
parallel branches of time fighting a war for the Kriths that would not
end for two thousand years.
We Timeliners have a lot of history in front of us.
"How much farther do you think it is?" I heard Kearns ask.
"A good distance," Sir Gerald answered. "We are still a mile or two
short of the German lines, as best I can estimate, and the villa is a
good five miles beyond that."
"Several hours then?" Kearns asked.
"At the rate we're going, yes," Sir Gerald whispered back. "We will be
doing very well for ourselves to have the count in our hands by dawn."
"We'll have him before dawn," I said over my shoulder.
"I hope so, Mathers," said Sir Gerald.
"I know damned well, sir," I replied. "We don't have any other choice."
"It's your show," Sir Gerald whispered, bitterly. "I'm just an observer."
I said nothing, for it was true. This wasn't a British patrol. It was
strictly Krithian and Timeliner. The poor British were only causing a
distraction for us, a bloody, nasty, costly distraction that Sir Gerald
hated with all his
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