Free TW06 The Khyber Connection NEW by Simon Hawke

The river has a current, and that current is temporal inertia. An act that's insignificant, that is, not historically disruptive enough to affect the timeflow, is like tossing a small pebble into the river. The current or the inertia overcomes any possible effect. You wouldn't see any ripples from where you tossed the pebble in. Next, take a large rock and toss it in. The rock has mass sufficient enough to affect the current, if only temporarily. You'll see the splash, perhaps a very brief rippling effect, and then the force of the current eliminates it or compensates for it.
    “Now take a huge, behemoth boulder—something the size of one of these damn mountains—and toss it in the river. The effect of the current is overcome. It either dams up the river somehow, or more likely, splits the flow—creating a timestream split. The river comes back together again on the other side and you have both effects working one against the other. A historical timeline in which Churchill died and one in which he didn't. Nobody knows how the hell that would resolve itself. It would either create a parallel universe or screw up the future six ways from Sunday. Trying to work out the possibilities has driven more than one scientist right off the deep end. Whatever it is that's happened back here—or, from where we stand now, is about to happen—has affected the timestream to the point that we have no historical knowledge of Churchill. It wasn't in the mission programming because the programming session took place after whatever event it was that originated in our time affected history in this time."
    Andre shook her head. "That doesn't work," she said.
    Lucas frowned. "Why not?"
    "Granted," Andre said, "the information could be missing from my subknowledge because my implant education took place fairly recently, relatively speaking. But when did you get
your
implant education?"
    "Why ... when I enlisted, of course. But I still don't see what that has ..." His voice trailed off.
    "Uh-huh," said Andre. "When did you take up reading history as a hobby?"
    "Not until well
after
I enlisted," Lucas said. "Damn! I shouldn't remember anything about Churchill either.
But why do I?"
    "I'd say we've got ourselves a real problem," Andre said.
    "To which no solution can possibly exist," said Lucas, "because the problem can't exist. Only it does."
    "Maybe Finn will have an answer," she said hope-fully.
    "Which brings up another question," Lucas said. "Will
Finn
remember anything about Winston Churchill?"
    "What are you getting at?" said Andre.
    "Suppose he doesn't?" Lucas said.
    "Okay, so suppose that. What of it?"
    "If Finn doesn't have any subknowledge of Churchill, then the whole explanation works, except in that case, I'll be the anomaly."
    "I still don't see your point."
    "Remember our hypothesis. What if something I'm about to do—or something I've already done—is the cause of the disruption?" He bit his lower lip. "Jesus, what if I'm the guy who's going to kill Churchill?"
Chapter 5
    Their arrival at the Malakand was like an entrance through the doors of Hell. The troops of the garrison were worn out from fighting. Many were wounded.
    Many had been killed. The broken ground was littered everywhere with bodies, far too numerous for the burial details to dispose of, even if they'd had the time. The lizards and the carrion birds were feasting.
    The fort itself was situated on a hill overlooking the depression known as The Crater. The position of the garrison had been spread out when the attack commenced on the twenty-sixth of July. Malakand Post, the fort itself, was in a virtually impregnable spot, but its surroundings were its weak point. To the north-north-east of the fort was The Crater, where the largest concentration of buildings stood. There was the bazaar, which now stood ruined and blackened from flames; the commissariat: the brigade offices and the mess, on a rise overlooking the depression; and an area known as Gretna Green, site of