The Zenda Vendetta

2

“Ruritania?” Lucas Priest frowned. “I’ve never even heard of a country called Ruritania. Which time period are we talking about, sir?”

“The late 19th century, Major,” said Forrester. He stood behind the podium in the small briefing room on the sixty-third floor of the TAC-HQ building. Major Lucas Priest, Master Sergeant Finn Delaney and Corporal Andre Cross sat before him in the first row of seats. They were dressed in green transit fatigues, form-fitting and lightweight, with their division pins attached to their collars and their insignia of rank on narrow black armbands.

Though Lucas Priest was the ranking officer on the commando team, Finn Delaney had the most seniority in terms of service. The antiaging drugs gave him a deceptively youthful appearance, despite the fact that he was already a veteran of the Temporal Corps when Lucas Priest was still a boy. He owed his lowly rank, out of all proportion to his length of service, to the fact that he had the worst disciplinary record in the entire corps. His most frequent offenses were insubordination and striking superior officers. Each offense, without exception, had been committed in Plus Time. On the other hand, he also held the record for the most promotions for outstanding performance in the field in Minus Time, with the result that he went up and down in rank like a yo-yo. He had only made officer once, for a very brief period of time. The irrepressible, burly, redheaded lifer was a sharp contrast to the slender, brown-haired Priest, a model officer who had quit his job as a well-paid lab technician and joined the Temporal Army on a whim, only to find his true vocation. He had been assigned to Forrester’s division after several tours of duty in the regular corps, and he had risen in rank steadily and rapidly until he was now Forrester’s second-in-command. Though quite different by nature, the two men complemented each other perfectly and, as frequently occurs with close friends, some of their traits had rubbed off on each other. Finn had learned to control his wild temper at least occasionally and Lucas had developed the ability if not to break regulations, then at least to bend them every now and then.

Biologically, Finn Delaney was the oldest of the three at the age of one hundred and twelve, senior to Lucas by almost fifty years. However, if their ages were to be reckoned chronologically, that distinction would have gone to Andre Cross. Though biologically only in her late twenties, a child by the standards of the 27th century, Andre had been born over a thousand years earlier in the mountainous Basque country of the 12th century. Hers was a case of temporal displacement. She had been taken from her own time and transplanted to the 27th century, an act facilitated by computer implant education and her own unique abilities. Tall, broad-shouldered and unusually muscular for a woman of her time, she felt much more comfortable in the 27th century than she had in 12th-century England, where she had found it necessary to wear her straw-blonde hair like a man’s and conceal her gender so that she could become a mercenary knight and live life on her own terms.

Together, the three of them made up a crack commando team. The most difficult and hazardous historical adjustment missions were usually assigned to them, a fact that they were well aware of as they sat and listened to Forrester conduct the briefing. It did not escape their notice that Forrester seemed unusually preoccupied and uncharacteristically tense. It wasn’t like him. It did not bode well for the upcoming mission.

“Ruritania was a tiny sovereign state,” said Forrester, “a vestpocket kingdom in Central Europe located in the Balkans. It was annexed by Austria-Hungary shortly prior to the First World War. Historically, it was a nation of no great significance in and of itself; however, certain recent events have given it a great deal of significance from the temporal standpoint.”

He punched a button on the podium console, activating the computer. “Forrester, code 321-G, clearance blue.”

“Clearance confirmed,” said the computer. “How may I assist you, Colonel Forrester?”

“Request general background on the conspiracy to depose King Rudolf the Fifth of Ruritania in the year 1891,” said Forrester. “Proceed when ready.”

“Working,” said the computer. “Will you require visuals, Colonel?”

“I’ll specify them as the need arises,” Forrester said.

“The file on the requested data is incomplete,” said the computer. “Available data is unsubstantiated; repeat, unsubstantiated.”

“Wonderful,” said Finn, wryly.

“Shut up, Delaney. Proceed, computer.”

“Available data is derived from a single source,” said the computer, “that source being a novel — ”

“A novel!” said Finn.

Forrester gave him an irate look.

“Repeat, a novel,” said the computer, “specifically, an historical romance titled The Prisoner of Zenda, written by Sir Anthony Hope Hawkins, also known as Anthony Hope, a London solicitor (modern equivalent: attorney) and published in England in the year 1894. The work was reportedly based on the personal diaries of Rudolf Rassendyll, born August 21, 1862 in London, England; died of tuberculosis on April 14, 1892 — ”

“Visual on Rudolf Rassendyll,” safd Forrester.

The holographic image of a tall, well-built man dressed in formal evening clothes circa the late 19th century appeared standing in the staging area before them. The image of Rassendyll stood slightly in profile with his head held erect and his chin held high. He had a thick shock of dark red hair, bright blue eyes, and a sharp, regal-looking nose. The effect of the projection on the three commandos was instantaneous and pronounced.

“What the hell?” said Finn Delaney, leaning forward and staring at the hologram intently. “That’s me!”

“Maintain present projection and let me have a visual on King Rudolf the Fifth of Ruritania,” said Forrester.

A second holographic image appeared standing beside the first. King Rudolf was dressed in a resplendent white military tunic festooned with medals and gold braid, with large, fringed epaulets upon his shoulders and a bright red sash across his chest. He wore white riding breeches and highly polished black riding boots. One arm hung relaxed at his side while the other was bent at the elbow, the hand resting on the pommel of his dress sabre. In all save the clothing, King Rudolf was the identical twin of Rudolf Rassendyll — and of Finn Delaney.

Finn glanced wide-eyed from one projection to the other. He stood up slowly and approached them, examining them from all angles. With the sole exception of the fact that he stood slightly taller than both images, though not so much so that anyone would notice unless he was standing close beside them, there was no discernible difference among the three of them.

“God damn!” he said, taking several steps backward and shaking his head slowly. “I have a very nasty feeling that I’m just going to hate whatever’s coming next.”

“If you’ll resume your seat, Delaney, then we’ll get on with it,” snapped Forrester, a bit more sharply than was necessary. Lucas wondered what was bothering the old man. Forrester was normally imperturbable, yet now the tension was apparent in his stance and in his voice. There was a grim tightness to the set of his mouth, a stiffness to his posture, an abruptness to his movements. Forrester appeared to be under a great strain and that was a bad sign, a very bad sign, indeed.

“Both of these projections are part of the data fed to us by Temporal Intelligence earlier this afternoon,” he said. “They were derived from old photographs. For your general information, Mr. Delaney, I ran a thorough check on your background when I saw these and to the best of my knowledge, neither of these men were ancestors of yours. Your resemblance to them is a remarkable coincidence. Proceed, computer.”

“Hawkins’s novel had as its theme a plot to seize the throne of Ruritania in the year 1891,” said the computer. “The plot was engineered by Michael Elphberg, Duke of Strelsau, half-brother to the king by a morganatic marriage — ”

“Visual on Michael Elphberg,” said Forrester.

The two holograms winked out, to be replaced by the image of Michael Elphberg, a saturnine man of average height, gaunt, with deeply-set, hooded brown eyes, and raven-black hair. Despite his dazzling military uniform, Michael Elphberg had the look of a character out of a Dostoevsky novel, one of those dark and brooding young men, like Raskolnikov, driven by an anarchistic soul and deep frustration that the world had not seen fit to recognize his natural superiority.

“Cheerful-looking chap, isn’t he?” said Finn.

“What is a morganatic marriage?” said Lucas.

“Computer,” said Forrester, “define — ”

“That won’t be necessary, Colonel,” Andre said. “It’s a term which has its origins in the time from which I came. It pertains to a marriage between a titled male and an untitled female. In this case, it would mean that the old king had married twice, once to a titled female — Rudolf’s mother-and again to an untitled female, who would have been Michael’s mother. In a morganatic union, neither the mother nor the offspring would have any rights to rank or property.”

“Why would Michael be a duke, then?” said Lucas.

“His father must have granted him a dukedom,” Andre said. “However, that still wouldn’t change the fact that he had no right to succession.”

“Which would explain why he wanted to seize the throne,” said Finn.

“Thank you, Corporal,” Forrester said. “Proceed, computer.”

“At the time of the plot,” said the computer, “there were two strong political factions in Ruritania, the Red faction and the Black faction. The Red faction supported Rudolf’s rightful claim to the throne of Ruritania. The Black faction was in favor of Michael Elphberg ascending to the throne. The groups were so identified owing to the dark red color of Rudolf Elphberg’s hair and the black color of Michael Elphberg’shair.”

“Question,” said Lucas. “If Michael had no legal right to succession, what were the reasons for there being public sentiment in favor of his becoming king?”

“Repeat,” said the computer, “this is unsubstantiated data. Rudolf Elphberg was not a popular figure in Ruritania. He was weak-willed and self-indulgent and he spent a great deal of time abroad, never bothering to curry favor with the Ruritanian people. Michael Elphberg took a great deal of interest in the government of Ruritania and maintained a high public visibility, keeping residences in the capitol city of Strelsau and in the province of Zenda, where he entertained influential citizens lavishly. He was also popular with the Ruritanian army and despite his having no legal right to succession, there was a large segment of the population that would have preferred to see Michael on the throne.”

“And Michael was not averse to this idea,” said Finn.

“Prince Rudolf was engaged to be married to the Princess Flavia,” continued the computer.

“Visual, please,” said Forrester and, a second later, the hologram of Michael was replaced by an image of a red-haired woman in her late teens or early twenties with bright blue eyes and a pleasingly heart-shaped face. She had a doll-like prettiness which she wore indifferently and her facial expression suggested shyness or a natural reserve.

“Flavia was Rudolf’s third cousin,” continued the computer, “and the marriage was politically motivated to unite the two strongest families in Ruritania under one house. The popularity of Princess Flavia and Prince Rudolf’s apparent indifference to her contributed to public sentiment against him.

“Michael had Rudolf drugged so that he would miss his coronation, the intent being to make it appear that Rudolf was unable to be crowned because he had been intoxicated. The plan was facilitated by the fact that Prince Rudolf had appeared in public in a state of intoxication on numerous occasions. The ensuing scandal would have been to Michael’s advantage, but no scandal occurred due to the fact that two of Prince Rudolf’s followers, an officer in the Ruritanian army named Colonel Sapt and a nobleman named von Tarlenheim, intervened by engineering a plot of their own. They enlisted the aid of Rudolf Rassendyll, who had come to Ruritania to see the coronation. Rassendyll was distantly related to Rudolf Elphberg and was his physical double. Sapt and von Tarlenheim convinced him to attend the coronation in Rudolf Elphberg’s place. Their plan was to have Rassendyll impersonate the king until the drugs wore off and they could make the substitution, at which point Rassendyll would have been quietly smuggled out of the country.”

“Visuals on Sapt and von Tarlenheim,” said Forrester, “are unavailable. We only have what the TIA provided us with and they haven’t had very much time to put all this together. You will, however, get physical descriptions, based on what Hawkins wrote, during your mission programming. Proceed, computer.”

“With the aid of Sapt and von Tarlenheim, Rassendyll successfully impersonated the king during the coronation. They were unable to complete their plan because Michael discovered the deception and imprisoned his half-brother in Zenda Castle, causing a stalemate between the two parties. If Michael killed the real king, he could have made Rassendyll’s impersonation permanent, with no way of exposing him as a fraud without exposing his own crime. If the marriage to Princess Flavia took place as planned, Flavia would have wedded an imposter. Sapt and von Tarlenheim could not accuse Michael of having kidnapped the real king, since doing so would have revealed the fraud that they had perpetrated. In order for Michael to prevail, he had to find a way to dispose of Rassendyll before he could dispose of his half-brother. In order for Sapt and von Tarlenheim to prevail, they had to find a way to rescue the king from Zenda Castle. The castle was a strong medieval fortification. If any attempt were made to storm it in force, Michael would have had enough time to kill the king and dispose of his body. Sapt and von Tarlenheim could not then accuse him of murder without proof. There was also the difficulty of the fact that Michael was popular with the army, who would have required strong justification for assaulting the home of the king’s own brother.”

“Sounds like one hell of a mess,” said Finn. “They couldn’t exactly tell the army that Michael was holding the king prisoner when the king was installed in the palace. It’s a lousy scenario for an adjustment.”

“It’s much worse than you think,” said Forrester. “Early this morning, Lieutenant Colonel Jack Carnehan-code name: Mongoose-was found murdered in his apartment in New York. Burned into his forehead with a laser were the words, ‘Paris 5.’ Temporal Intelligence contacted me as soon as they realized that it was a reference to the terrorists you and agent Mongoose went up against in the 17th-century Paris adjustment. Apparently, the Timekeepers have embarked upon a vendetta and the TIA believes that we-or at least you three-will be their next targets.”

Mention of the Timekeepers and of Mongoose’s murder had an electric effect upon the soldiers.

“Good Christ,” said Lucas. “How did it happen? I thought the Timekeepers were finished.”

“So did I,” said Forrester. “However, Temporal Intelligence is now reluctantly admitting that they didn’t get them all. I’m told that the leadership of the Timekeepers was composed of a small number of individuals acting as a secret cell within that organization. One of them was Adrian Taylor, whom the three of you brought down on that Paris mission. The TIA knows of at least three others, all of whom managed to escape their dragnet.”

“How in hell did they manage to kill Mongoose?” Finn said. “Not even we knew what he really looked like.”

“Chances are we’ll probably never know,” said Lucas.

“As a matter of fact, we do know,” said Forrester. “The TIA has a visual record of the assassination.”

“What?” said Finn.

Forrester’s mouth turned down slightly at the corners. “It seems that Mongoose had holographic equipment installed in concealed locations inside his apartment, ostensibly for surveillance purposes. The TIA has seen fit to deny me access to the complete recording, for reasons which will momentarily become obvious, I think, but they did send me this still projection from the graph.”

There was a long pause and Lucas noticed that Forrester’s hands were white-knuckled on the podium. “Computer, visual on Sophia Falco,” he said.

The holographic image of a breathtakingly beautiful young woman appeared standing in the staging area. She had ash-blond hair, blue-grey eyes, and a lush body that was clearly kept in peak physical condition. She was completely nude. There was a catlike sleekness to her, and even though she stood in a relaxed posture, her muscular development was evident and quite impressive. There was a pristine loveliness to her face that would have been icy were it not for the searing heat generated by her gaze. Though it was only a hologram, the image exuded a bestial vitality. She had a charged sexuality so potent that it hit both Finn and Lucas like a blast of hot desert wind. She was holding a laser in her hand and smiling in a bemused fashion. Finn Delaney gave a low whistle.

“Oh,” said Andre, dryly. “I see. Those kind of surveillance purposes.”

“Yes,” said Forrester, “the killing took place in the bedroom.”

“I can’t believe it,” Lucas said. “Mongoose would never be taken like that.”

“He’s right,” said Finn. “Mongoose was too good an agent to succumb to a sexual lure. Besides, he was as paranoid as they come. He’d probably test the food his own mother cooked for him. There’s got to be more to it.”

“There is,” said Forrester, tensely. “This is a woman I once knew as Elaine Cantrell. We served together in the Airborne Pathfinders a long time ago. She obviously takes more trouble to look youthful than do I and she’s changed her appearance somewhat since we knew each other, but I still recognized her. If you’ll look closely at her left hand, you will see that she’s wearing an unusual-looking ring.” He paused for a long moment. “I gave her that ring. It belonged to my father.”

The three commandos exchanged astonished glances. In all the years that they had known the old man, they had never heard him mention having any women in his life. And hard as it was to picture their crusty old commander in a romantic liaison, it was impossible to imagine him being involved with that woman.

“The TIA knew her as Sophia Falco-code name: Falcon,” said Forrester.

“She’s a temporal agent?” Lucas said, with disbelief. “The Timekeepers infiltrated Temporal Intelligence?”

“How?” said Andre. “Even their clerical personnel have to undergo high-level clearance scanning.”

“It would explain a few things, though,” said Finn, “like why the TIA could never crack them. Difficult to do if you’ve got a mole from the opposition in your organization. If you’re surprised, imagine how they must feel. It would have been extremely difficult, but not at all impossible. I can think of one way they could have done it offhand, but it would mean that the Timekeepers had far greater resources and imagination than we ever gave them credit for. They could have used reeducation conditioning.”

“That means they would have had to subvert someone in the penal system,” Andre said. “I should think that would have been impossible. They’re constantly monitored.”

“Difficult, but not impossible,” said Finn. “Hell, nothing is impossible. Besides, they might have been able to get their hands on the necessary equipment. It still would have been very risky. A reeducation procedure that isn’t conducted by an expert could easily result in a total mind wipe.”

“I still don’t see how reeducation conditioning would help them plant a spy,” said Lucas.

“I think it’s the only answer under the circumstances,” Finn said. He glanced at Forrester. “Sir?”

“Go ahead, Delaney. Let’s hear it.”

Of the four of them, Finn had the most extensive scientific background, having attended Referee Corps School as a young man, though he had washed out of RCS due to his undisciplined personality. The referees’ loss was the First Division’s gain.

“They probably used a variation on the hypnotic mole conditioning first developed by the Soviets in the late 20th century,” said Finn. “The Russians developed the technique of infiltrating agents into key positions-or positions that would become key positions-and leaving them ‘dormant’ for years, capable of being triggered by a key word or spoken code phrase. These agents were frequently preconditioned to perform certain specific missions, based upon long-range projections. Quite often, they were ignorant of the fact that they were agents until the time that they were triggered.”

“You’re to be congratulated, Mr. Delaney,” said Forrester. “Your analysis of the situation and the TIA’s coincide exactly, except for one small point. There is one possibility for gaining access to the right equipment and the necessary expertise that you’ve overlooked. Subverting someone in TAMAC.”

“Hell, that’s right,” said Finn. “That never even occurred to me!”

“The TIA put it all together,” said Forrester, “but then, they had all the facts. When they moved to make mass arrests of the members of the Temporal Preservation League based on the results of your Paris mission, one of the people they apprehended was Captain Lachman Singh of the Temporal Army Medical Corps-a psychiatric specialist. He committed suicide before he could be interrogated and we now know why. Once Falcon’s identity was discovered to be false, the TIA began to backtrack. It turns out that the woman I knew as Elaine Cantrell was a complete fabrication, in a manner of speaking. Whoever she is, she seems to have no history. She must have had herself imprinted with a personality to match her cover identity as Elaine Cantrell prior to joining the service. A check of her service record reveals that she enlisted in Colorado Springs, which means that she would have been processed at TAMAC, where Captain Singh was in an excellent position to find some ‘inconsistency’ in her psych profile and put her through a scanning procedure for verification purposes. That would have given him all the cover he needed to put her through a modified reeducation program, imprinting her with a bogus personality and some sort of trigger, as Delaney puts it, to reawaken her true identity. Then he cleared her, as the records show, and she went on to Pathfinder training and eventual assignment to my unit.”

Forrester winced slightly as he said that. He swallowed hard, then continued.

“Temporal Intelligence confirms that she applied to the agency while still under my command. She passed their scanning procedures-thanks to Captain Singh-and was accepted for training as a field agent. At that point, Elaine Cantrell disappeared in Minus Time. I believed her to be dead, but now I’ve learned that the TIA arranged for her to be MIA so that Elaine Cantrell could ‘die’ and begin a new career with a new identity, as Sophia Falco-code name: Falcon. She became one of their top field agents.”

“And since Mongoose was the senior field agent, they obviously got to know each other pretty well,” said Lucas.

Andre grimaced. “Yes, but unfortunately for Mongoose, not well enough.”

“The ironic part,” said Forrester, “is that the TIA assigned her to infiltrate the Temporal Preservation League with an aim to making contact with the terrorists and infiltrating them. When she succeeded, the Timekeepers knew that they had succeeded, at which point they must have triggered her.”

“It’s almost funny,” said Finn. “It’s as though the Timekeepers gave the TIA the ingredients to make a bomb. The TIA assembled it for them, then gave it back so they could push the button. The scary thing is that Falcon might not have been the only one.”

“That’s precisely what they’re worried about,” said Forrester. “This has thrown the TIA into an absolute panic. They’ve recalled every single one of their field agents in order to put them through a series of exhaustive scanning procedures designed to check for the possibility of imprintation.”

“All of them?” said Lucas. “That could take months!”

“At the very least,” said Forrester. “What that means is that you won’t have any intelligence support upon this mission. Which brings us full circle. Falcon purposely left behind some personal effects belonging to Rudolf Rassendyll at the scene of Mongoose’s murder. Temporal Intelligence has authenticated them. I think that we can safely assume that they’re not trying to bluff us. The Timekeepers have clocked back to the 19th century and eliminated Rassendyll.”

“But why tell us about it?” Andre said.

“I should think that would be obvious,” said Forrester. “They want revenge for what you did in 17th-century Paris. As a result of that mission, their organization was virtually wiped out. They’ve already killed Mongoose. That leaves just the three of you.”

“If they’re trying to make certain that we’re the team sent out on the adjustment,” Andre said, “why play into their hands? Why not simply send in another team?”

“You’re not thinking, Corporal,” said Forrester. “Sending you three in is our best chance to stop them. They know that. They also know that we know that they have already created their disruption. They’ve made a point of telling us about it. There’s nothing preventing them from merely clocking out to another time period except the fact that they want you dead. So long as you’re available, they’ll stick around and try to get the job done.”

Finn Delaney was shaking his head.

“What is it, Delaney?”

“There are entirely too many coincidences here,” he said. “I can’t believe that the Timekeepers arranged them all.”

Forrester frowned. “What are you getting at?”

“Just this. The whole thing is beginning to shape up as the sort of nightmares we used to construct as theoretical problem modules back in RCS when we were studying the effects of the Fate Factor on temporal inertia. We used to call it ‘zen physics,’ because it bends your brain around just thinking about it, like one of those old Japanese koans, you know, ‘What is the sound of one hand clapping?’ Only this is even worse.”

“How so?”

“Because trying to figure it out logically will make you crazy,” said Finn. “More cadets washed out on zen physics than in any other course. Temporal inertia works in ways that not even Mensinger fully understood. Look at the complete picture here. Everything that’s gone down so far bears directly on our actions in 17th-century Paris during that adjustment mission involving the three musketeers. The adjustment was successful and it enabled the TIA to arrest most of the Timekeepers, but we have no way of knowing just how much temporal inertia was affected. Remember that the Fate Factor works as a coefficient of temporal inertia, determining the degree of relative continuity to which the timestream can be restored. That depends on the effects of the disruption itself in the first place and the manner in which it was adjusted in the second place.”

“In other words,” said Andre, “ ‘relative’ is the operative term. Temporal inertia can still be affected in some way that might show up at some later point in time.”

“Exactly. Coincidences are a natural part of a random world, but too many coincidences indicates that there has to be more than randomness at work. That’s what we’ve got here. Too damn many coincidences. One: what the Timekeepers have done in disrupting 19th-century Ruritania is directly related to what we did to them in 17th-century France. Cause and effect. Two: Falcon appears to have been very high up in the terrorist organization, perhaps one of their leaders, which connects her to what we did in 17th-century France. Three: as Elaine Cantrell, she was involved with Colonel Forrester and now, as Falcon, their paths have intersected once again. Four: as Elaine Cantrell and later as Sophia Falco, she was involved with the TIA and with Mongoose, who’s been involved with us on more than one occasion in the past, specifically on that 17th-century adjustment. Five: I happen, just ‘coincidentally,’ to resemble both Rudolf Rassendyll and King Rudolf of Ruritania, who are principal parties in the historical scenario the Timekeepers have disrupted. Possibly, they discovered this resemblance by accident and acted because of it, but there are still too many coincidences interrelating here to be dismissed as a random progression of events.”

“So you’re suggesting that it’s the Fate Factor at work?” said Forrester.

“It has to be. Remember that old story about how a kingdom was lost for want of a horseshoe nail? All it takes is one seemingly insignificant action to set in motion a cause-and-effect chain that will eventually lead to one significant event. Trying to analyze such a situation in terms of temporal inertia practically erases the line between physics and metaphysics. It’s what finally drove Mensinger to kill himself. He realized that the whole thing is like a house of cards. Sooner or later, it’s bound to collapse under its own weight and all it takes is just one card to start the whole thing falling.”

“But none of our actions have ever been temporally insignificant,” said Lucas. “We’ve even faced a timestream split before and managed to adjust for it successfully.”

“Yeah, so far as we know,” said Finn. “The point I’m trying to make is that Mensinger’s theories refer to Fate in a literal fashion only obliquely. That’s because complete objectivity is impossible under any circumstances. It goes back to Heisenberg’s Principle. An observer of any phenomenon can’t get away from his subjective relationship to it merely by being there to observe it. Any action we take in Plus or Minus Time is a causal manifestation of our subjective relationship to the timestream.”

“You’ve lost me,” said Andre.

“Let me attempt to translate Delaney’s verbosity into layman’s terms,” said Forrester. “What he’s saying is that the Fate Factor governs not only the end result of any adjustment to the timestream, but it also governs the actions of those effecting the adjustment.”

“Only in this case,” said Finn, “we seem to be confronted with a situation that’s eschatological in its implications. We may have adjusted for a split before, but now we’ve got the potential for a massive rupture on our hands. And what makes matters even worse is that all we’ve got to work from in terms of intelligence is some sort of drawing-room novel written in the 19th century. Without access to those diaries that Hawkins allegedly worked from, we have no way of knowing what really happened. The TIA is in no position to give us any help. Besides, even if they managed to get their hands on those diaries in time, we’d still only have Rassendyll’s word for what actually happened. He could easily have embellished the story for his own sake.”

“I’ll agree that the element of uncertainty in this scenario is very large,” said Lucas, “but at least we know what the result was. History records a King Rudolf the Fifth on the throne of Ruritania, and Rassendyll obviously managed to get back to London in one piece to write about it in his diaries. Whatever it was he did, he was successful.”

“Not any more he wasn’t,” said Finn. “I trust we have access to this novel Hawkins wrote?”

“It will be included in the mission programming,” said Forrester.

“Good. We’ll need all the help that we can get. We’re looking destiny squarely in the face here. The Fate Factor is trying to compensate and we’re a part of it!”

“I wonder if the Timekeepers realize that?” said Lucas.

“I wonder if they care?” said Forrester. “Their so-called movement has been effectively destroyed. There can only be a handful of them left. Can you think of a better note to go out on than having brought about ultimate entropy?”

“Is that actually a possibility?” said Andre.

“Delaney seems to think so,” Forrester said.

“But that would mean…” Andre’s voice trailed off.

“The end of time,” said Lucas, softly.