Three Kings

“Smart enough,” said Popski.

“These weapons, these machines, I know they impress you, but don’t they seem fantastic?”

“That they do. One look at a tank like that will drain the blood from this General Rommel’s face, and that’s a fact.”

“Quite so, and it will drain the blood from his men as well, literally. Popski…”

He wanted to tell him that tank could not have been built by the British industries of today; that the craft of its making would not be possible for another sixty to eighty years. Then he realized this man would simply never understand the real truth, so why did he have to know? Popski would believe the tank was here, right before his eyes, but never grasp that it could have come here from the future. That would be the experience of most here. They would never know the real truth, though they would rejoice that Achilles had come to the fight, an invincible champion in this hour of need-Achilles, with one weakness in the limited duration of his power. Yet he realized now that to fully explain this situation to Kinlan, he would need to rely on his own limited skills in English, and he wished Nikolin were here. He was going to have to tell this man something that General Wavell did not even know yet!

“Must be a prototype,” he said at last, leaving Popski in the innocence of unknowing. Some would eventually know the real truth. Wavell would have to be one of them, and O’Connor was on the way here at this moment. Other men highly placed in the British army and government would certainly have to know. The rest of that impossible truth would still be protected by that bodyguard of lies, as Churchill might put it.

“I think that I will try to speak with General Kinlan on my own now, if you don’t mind. I can manage a bit of English.”

“Have a go if you wish. Maybe you can talk sense into the man.”

Fedorov checked with Popski on a few words he was uncertain of, words like displacement and detonation, and then he had him ask for a private conference with the Brigadier, which Kinlan granted. His report had come back, and he had an odd look on his face. The two men went off near an FV432 command vehicle and Fedorov began his faltering attempt to communicate.

“Forgive my English. You’re report? It is concluded?”

“It has, and it seems you were correct, Captain. My men report the site is… well the whole damn facility has vanished! What is going on here? What kind of trick have you Russians pulled?”

Fedorov struggled to get all of that, but the essence came through. “No tricks,” he said. “An accident.”

“Accident? There were millions of pounds worth of equipment and facilities back there. What kind of accident could have them go missing short of another of your damn warheads? Either that or my patrol got lost. They certainly weren’t all carted off by the Berbers, or buried by that sandstorm. Right?”

“No second warhead,” said Fedorov. “It was the first.”

“The first? Well we got that one. At least we got two of the three, and the last was off target to the east. Those facilities were completely intact when we moved our column out.”

“The attack… it caused big accident. Odd effect of nuclear detonation, like EMP.”

“EMP? That might fry electronics, but it bloody well could not account for what we’re talking about here.”

“Not EMP… similar strange effect of detonation. Causes big problem with time.”

“A problem with time? I don’t follow you.”

“Sorry. I will try again… Detonation changes time, breaks time. It can make things move in time. Understand?”

“Move in time? That’s bosh.”

“Bosh?”

“It’s nonsense! What are you talking about?”

“Not bosh. Is real truth. Your men just found General O’Connor. He is the real man… General Richard O’Connor, and you will soon see. Your base at Sultan Apache remains there, in year 2021. But you are not there. Your men, your brigade, all displaced in time due to detonation. Big accident! I know for sure. Because this happened to my ship.”

Kinlan gave him a look that was half annoyed and half astonished. “Your ship? Are you telling me you think you moved in bloody time?”

“Yes! This is true. Nuclear detonation during live fire exercises. Accident. Then we appear… somewhere else! Same place, different time. Honest truth.” He held up his hand as though he were taking an oath. “I know it sounds impossible. I never believed it myself, until facts made things true. We moved here, to this time-1941.”

“1941?” Kinlan grinned at him, unbelieving, as there was no rational place he could put this. “You’re trying to tell me you think this is 1941? You’re daft, man, off your rocker.”

Fedorov did not follow that, but he could sense the other man’s rejection of what he had told him. “Then where is Sultan Apache?” He returned to his long suit, playing another spade.

Kinlan stared at him. “Well I don’t know where it is, Captain. But it seems you don’t know where it is either with this silly explanation.”