The Eternal War (30 page)

‘They should find those runaways easily enough … and your sister and friend too.’

Liam glanced across the trampled field, lit by several campfires. The ‘hounds’ that McManus referred to were those large baboon-headed dogs. He could see them clustered around one of the fires, eating rations of food out of a trough. He could see flashes of long teeth as they periodically raised their heads and chewed hungrily on what appeared to be dry nuggets of protein biscuit.

‘They look pretty ferocious, so they do. Are you sure my sister’s going to be safe from them?’

‘Indeed. Those hunter-seekers won’t harm them. They’ve been instructed.’

‘How’ll they know who it is they’re not to hurt, though?’

‘White Bear has had them all get a taste of the tracks left by the genics. They know the smell of your sister and have orders to follow the scent, locate them and then report in.’

Liam looked at him sceptically. ‘
Instructed
, you said? You make them sound almost human.’

McManus grinned. He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. One of the hunter-seekers looked up from his feeding trough. ‘Yes, that’s right, you over there! Pack-Alpha … come here!’

The creature obediently got up off its haunches and trotted across the camp towards them.

Liam shared a look with Bob. ‘I’ve never seen a dog so well trained.’

‘Well, firstly, remember these things
aren’t
dogs,’ said McManus.

The hunter-seeker came to a halt in front of them – waist high, almost as big as a Great Dane.

‘You may sit, Pack-Alpha.’

‘Thanks, guv,’ it grunted, slim hindquarters settling down on the dusty ground.

‘This civilian is Mr Liam O’Connor. And the big chap is Mr Bob O’Connor. It’s their sister and friend who’ve been taken by the runaways. Now, for their peace of mind, would you please tell them what your orders are.’

It turned intelligent baboon-eyes on to Liam, a pink tongue protruded from its long furry muzzle and moistened its thin dark leathery lips. ‘Follow smell-trail. Find humans.’

‘And what will you do when you find them?’

It cocked its head and Liam could have sworn the thing rolled its eyes as if that was the most stupid question a person could ask. ‘Call home.’

McManus pointed to a leather strap round the creature’s neck. Beneath its jaw was a small brass box with a simple toggle switch on it. ‘They flip that switch and it turns on a short-range radio beacon, which we can then follow in. It also opens the microphone so they can tell us exactly what they’re seeing. They make excellent reconnaissance units.’

He turned back to the genic, squatted down to inspect an ident number on its collar. ‘Ahh, you’re Pack-Alpha-Two. Sorry, didn’t recognize you there … George, isn’t it?’

Liam choked a surprised laugh. ‘
George?
’

‘Ahh, yes. We let them pick their own informal names. They like to do it. Makes them feel a part of the regiment. Doesn’t it, ol’ chap?’

The creature nodded. ‘Good name, George. Just like King.’

‘That’s right, just like our King George.’ McManus patted the top of his small round head. ‘George is one of our best. Did some really rather excellent work rooting out the bad chaps from the mountains in Afghanistan, didn’t you?’

‘Bad men. I kill.’

‘You did jolly well, George. Very well indeed.’

George turned his baboon-head to look back at his pack and the trough, a worried frown rolling along the protruding brow above his eyes. ‘Go eat now, guv?’

‘Ah, yes … better get off before those greedy beggars in your squad finish all the chow. Dismissed.’

The hunter-seeker turned and trotted back across the makeshift camp.

Liam shook his head at the bizarre conversation he’d just witnessed.

‘Yes … they’re a very helpful eugenic product,’ said McManus. ‘Far more efficient at tracking than any human can be, better even than, dare I say, our Indian chap, White Bear.’

‘Why did you not use those hunter creatures earlier, then?’ asked Bob.

‘When we were following the trail from the farmhouse?’

Bob nodded.

‘Tracking’s not just following a scent or footprints. It’s thinking, assessing how you personally would attempt to hide your trail. It’s like playing chess … predicting an opponent’s move. George and his chums can’t do anything sophisticated like that. They’re jolly good, though, at following a scent. Tracking and following a scent … two very different things.’

‘The names …’ said Liam. ‘Why do they pick names like that? Human names?’

McManus shrugged. ‘Eugenics … that’s the odd thing – they
all
want in some way to be more human. After all, I suppose they must think of us as … as, I suppose, their
parents
, in a way. They are just children really, though. Simple-minded children.’

High up in the sky the regimental carrier slowly manoeuvred in a wide turning arc, a searchlight periodically 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.’

The colonels eyed each other silently. Long enough so that Maddy felt the need to say something. ‘What? What the hell are you guys thinking?’

‘James … I think … no, I
know
my men would join me. What about yours?’

The Confederate colonel turned to look back across the East River. ‘I believe they might.’ He glanced at Devereau. ‘Particularly if they learn what the British are planning to do.’

‘What?’ Maddy looked from one to the other. ‘What are you two talking about?’

‘An uprising,’ said Devereau.

‘A mutiny,’ added Wainwright.

Both men smiled at the thought of it. ‘It could spread,’ said Devereau. ‘Really, it could spread right along the front line. If someone somewhere dared to make the start of it.’

‘Word would need to get out. You and I, William, we’d need to make absolutely sure the news got out.’

Wainwright grinned suddenly. ‘There is not a regiment, old friend, not a single Confederate regiment, that would not celebrate an end to this damned war!’

‘Oh my God! Is that your plan, then?’ asked Maddy. ‘A popular uprising?’

‘If news spreads among the men,’ said Devereau, ‘that the British plan to deploy eugenic military units again on American soil … yes, good Lord, this could … this could truly take hold. The soldiers on both sides, the general public would be terrified of another Preston Peak massacre!’

‘And if it comes to it,’ added Wainwright, ‘if it came down to it, our men, I’m sure, would fight side by side.’

Maddy thought she saw tears in Devereau’s eyes. ‘My God, James! This could be it, a
tinderbox
issue Americans can unite on! Military-use eugenics being used over here again!’

‘That’s what needs to be said, old friend. Loud and clear. So everyone can hear it.’ His grin widened. ‘This is the flame to the thatch.’

‘Indeed.’

Maddy looked from one colonel to the other. ‘So is this what we’re doing, then? Starting a revolution?’

They both nodded. ‘And not before time,’ said Devereau.