The Eternal War

lancing out into the darkness and combing the ground around the camp. McManus poked and prodded their campfire with a stick, stirring the glowing embers to life.

‘Even the wild ones, the runaways, they take human names. We’ve noticed them try to mimic us when they can, sometimes wearing items of clothing, bracelets … hats. That kind of thing.’

‘Like black slaves used to do?’

McManus stopped mid-stride. ‘Black slaves?’ He glared at Liam. ‘Good grief! You’re talking about human slavery?’

Liam nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Barbaric!’ he spat. ‘An abhorrent, savage practice. I thank God we live in modern, more enlightened times.’

‘So … your side, the South — ’

‘Anglo-Confederacy,’ he corrected Liam. ‘North and South, those are old names from bygone times.’

‘The Anglo-Confederacy, then … it doesn’t keep black slaves any more, does it?’

‘Good God, Mr O’Connor! Are you actually trying to be offensive this evening?’

Liam winced. ‘No, I … I’m sorry. I just wondered …’

‘Do you honestly think His Majesty’s government, our armed forces, this prestigious regiment, would fight alongside any nation that actually kept humans as slaves? We put an end to that in this country nearly a century and a half ago!’

McManus shook his head disapprovingly. ‘Good Lord! Look around you, why don’t you, Mr O’Connor. We’re not ruddy barbarians in the British army!’ He got up and strode off, leaving Liam and Bob behind.

Liam looked at Bob. ‘What? I just asked the question … that’s all!’

‘I believe you may have angered McManus,’ said Bob.

Liam nodded. ‘I think you’re right.’ He looked around, just as McManus had suggested, at the men sitting beside campfires, in their woollen undershirts and braces, the junior officers around their brazier warming their hands. He’d been so distracted by their desperate mission to rescue Sal and Lincoln, distracted by the bizarre technology of this world and the curious talking creatures it had spawned, that he’d failed to note that at least a third of these men and officers in crimson tunics and pith helmets were dark-skinned. Professional soldiers recruited from every corner of the British Empire.

‘Oh … I see.’ He pressed his lips, realizing now why his clumsy question might have caused McManus to snap angrily at him.

‘I guess I probably need to go and apologize.’

CHAPTER 55

2001, New York

Devereau watched his Southern counterpart jump down off the prow of the launch and wade through the lapping tide up the shingle towards him.

Wainwright stood a yard short and offered him a crisp salute. ‘Colonel.’

‘Twice in one day.’ Devereau returned the salute. ‘We make poor enemies, don’t we?’

Wainwright nodded politely at Maddy and Becks standing a little further behind Devereau. ‘William, we must talk quickly.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘The British are preparing an offensive in this sector.’

‘Another?’

Every two or three years, it seemed, the Anglo-Confederacy probed somewhere along the front line with a half-hearted assault. Thousands of men usually dead or injured for a front line that might have shifted a quarter- mile in one direction or the other. It made headlines in newspapers. It gave the generals on either side a chance to earn campaign medals. But it achieved nothing useful.

‘No, William, this one’s for good. They want a significant victory this time.’

‘Oh?’

‘They want to take New York.’ Wainwright stepped a little closer and lowered his voice. ‘And they’re sending in experimentals.’

Eugenics. Devereau felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He fought to keep a rigid expression on his face. ‘James, are you certain of this?’

‘Certain?’ Wainwright laughed bitterly. ‘I have just committed an act of treason. Of course I’m certain! They’re coming your way, William, and they’re going to throw every little monster in their box of tricks right at you.’

‘God help us,’ whispered Devereau. He glanced over his shoulder at Maddy and Becks, then back at Wainwright. ‘James, perhaps you’ll reconsider your position on the discussion we had this morning.’

‘That’s why I’m here, old friend. These two young women, do you …?’

‘Do I believe their story?’ Devereau considered his answer for a moment. ‘You’ve seen their pictures, their small device … I’m no technician, but I swear that thing is beyond even the capability of the British.’

Wainwright nodded.

‘And there’s more to see in their bunker if you want to come and — ’

Wainwright raised a hand. ‘There’s little time. I believe … I have little choice but to believe them. I have nothing left but hope that they can change all of this.’

Devereau turned and beckoned Maddy and Becks to join them.

Maddy smiled. ‘Colonel,’ she said politely.

‘Miss Carter. I have agreed to join my efforts with Colonel Devereau and help you fix your time machine.’

‘Really? Oh, that’s — ’

‘William, Miss Madelaine, Miss Becks …’ Wainwright drew a deep breath. ‘I have committed an act of treason and mutiny. As soon as they discover this, they will be swarming all over my sector. If there are parts you need to take from the British communications hub, then we will need to move quickly.’

‘If we can retrieve what you need from there,’ said Devereau, ‘how long will it take you to fix your time machine?’

Maddy turned to Becks. ‘Becks?’

‘I am unable to give a precise estimate. Connecting and configuring a radio communications dish may take — ’ her eyelids flickered for a moment — ‘thirteen hours.’

‘What?’ gasped Wainwright. ‘That is far too long!’

‘In addition, we need to establish a source of power. Our generator utilizes petroleum-derived diesel. Do you have this fuel type?’

The colonels looked at each other. Wainwright shook his head. ‘I have not heard of it. Southern engines run on a liquid-form fuel we call maizolene. I believe it is a mixture of corn-based alcohol and Texas oil.’

‘As I suspected,’ said Becks. ‘A variety of hybrid ethanol. Then we would need to adapt the generator to run on this fuel. This may not be possible. In which case we would need to acquire one of your engines and use that as the motorized device to turn the generator’s dynamo to produce electrical power.’

Maddy sucked her teeth. ‘That sounds like a lot of work.’

‘Correct.’ Becks’s eyes blinked again. ‘Approximately thirty hours of work.’ She turned to Maddy. ‘But I am making several significant assumptions in this calculation. It could take much longer.’

‘Good God, there is no time for this! The British will be here before we can — ’

‘Unless we buy her the time she needs,’ said Devereau. The others looked at him. ‘James,’ he continued, ‘you and I have said this before, have we not? This war is not the war it started out as. It’s not our war.’

Wainwright nodded. ‘This is a war no American would want.’