Simon Hawke - Khyber Connection

"Outnumbered by fifty to one, Surgeon-Major Robertson finds himself havin’ to defend the fort with about three hundred rounds per man and not much in the way of supplies. One massed attack follows another. The fort is fired on repeatedly, yet somehow Robertson holds on and keeps the fort from burnin’ to the ground. He holds on long enough for Sir Robert Low to arrive with three brigades and Colonel Kelly with one. Both commanders had to fight for every inch of ground along the way. They save Robertson, put Umra Khan to flight, and breathe a mighty sigh of relief, thinkin’ its all over. And just to be on the safe side, so they don’t have to fight for every inch of ground goin’ back, it’s decided to establish a garrison in the Malakand Pass to keep the road open * ‘ Now we come at last to a gentlemen who calls himself Sadullah, referred to hereabouts as the Mad Mullah. Rather like that Mahdi chap General ‘Chinese’ Gordon ran afoul of in Khartoum. Am I losin’ you""

" No, go on, " said Andre. " This is fascinating.

Learoyd grinned. "You’ll find it less so, miss, I promise you. While all this was goin’ on, our supposed ally in Kabul, the Emir Abdur Rahman, called a sort of council of the local holy men in all these parts, to study the Koran or some such. While he’s being a genial chap to all the lads in Simla, the emir tells all the holy men about how General Gordon got his head up on a pike down in Khartoum and how we’re havin’ other minor troubles here and there, and he tells them that the Prophet has decreed the time has come for the infidel firinghi, and so on and so forth. Thus, havin’ attended Sunday school, the holy men go forth to spread the word. And our friend Sadullah spreads it finer than any man I know. Next thing the boys up in the Malakand know, they’ve got themselves a bloody jehad upon their heads.

"Accordin’ to the latest communication, they were havin’ themselves a go at a few chukkers of polo when about 10,000 Ghazis came screamin’ down their throats. They’re hangin’ on up there, holdin’ off against a hundred to one odds, and praying’ like Hell, if you’ll excuse the expression, Father, that we’ll get there in time to save them all from bein’ butchered. The Guides have already left, the lancers leave tonight, and us Tommys, bein’ the least mobile, leave first thing in the mornin’. "

He turned to Delaney. "You’ll be good enough to clear the way for us, I’m sure, sir. We’ll do what we can on our part. After all, we’ll have the Father with us. You watch, he’ll get there and convert them all to Christianity and they’ll throw down all their weapons and join us in a chorus of ‘Bringin’ in the Sheaves.’ "

"An’ I couldn’t ‘ave told it better meself," Mulvaney said, " ‘ceptin’ I wouldn’t ‘ave taken so bloody long a time about it." He pushed back his chair and got up from the table. "Gentlemen, and lady, you’ll excuse me, I am sure, but I’ve to go an’ see about me kit." He tossed Delaney a half drunken salute and shambled off.

"Take my advice, Father," said Learoyd. "Go home. "

"I’m afraid I cannot, Private Learoyd," said Lucas.

Learoyd rose. "Well, then, much as it may go against your Christian conscience, you may find it more useful to lay aside your Bible for a time and do your convertin’ with a rifle. Good night to you."

Lucas looked across the table at Finn and Andre, his mouth set in a grim expression. "Who was the idiot who decided this would be a good scenario for temporal confrontations" "

Andre shook her head. "I didn’t hear anything in what he said that contradicted history. If there are any anomalies present, if there’s any interference, it hasn’t affected the scenario yet."

"That we know of," said Finn. "I’d keep an eye on Learoyd if I were you, Lucas. Despite the occasional lapse into slang, it strikes me that his conversation is way too educated for a mere army private. And scuttlebutt or no, he’s a lot more well informed than the average soldier."

"That had occurred to me," said Lucas. "I think I’ll stick close to all three of them."

Outside, a bugle sounded, and Finn stood up. "That’s first call for assembly," he said. "My unit’s getting ready to move out."

Andre reached out and took his arm. "Be careful, Finn. "

‘, I will."

"Don’t take any chances out there," Lucas said. "If it starts to look bad, use your warp disc and get the hell out. If we don’t rendezvous at Chakdarra, we’ll meet here, at that same shop in the bazaar."

"Right," said Finn.

"Good luck."

"You too. Stay close to Blood, if you can. He seems to be the most important figure in this scenario."

"Got it."

Assembly blew.

"Got to go," said Finn. "I’ll meet you in Chakdarra. "

Outside, there were the sounds of horses and pack animals massing as the 11th Bengal Lancers prepared to ride out to the relief of Chakdarra.

"I wish we were going with him," Andre said.

"So do l," said Lucas, "but this improves our chances. If anything gets out of whack up ahead, Finn can scout the situation and clock back to let us know. Besides, he’s right. We’ve got to protect the important figures in this scenario. And Blood’s the most important one on hand right now."

The door burst open with a slam. Standing in the entrance was a dashing young blond officer in the uniform of a subaltern in the 4th Hussars. He saw Lucas and Andre and politely removed his shako.

"Excuse me, Father, madam. I wonder if you could tell me where I might find General Sir Bindon Blood" I’ve just arrived to join the march. My name is Winston Churchill. "

Sharif Khan was a self-made man. He began his khanate by the simple expedient of stealing a rifle from one of the British pickets at Landi Kotal. In the dead of night, while the picket slept, he had crept up to him and stolen his breech-loading Martini-Henry, as well as several belts of ammunition. This made him a man to be reckoned with in the small Afridi village where he had settled. With the rifle to back up his new important status, he prevailed upon several of the young men in the village to build a gun tower as an addition to his small brick house, and he instructed them in the proper way of loopholing the walls to provide embrasures, as well as in constructing a high, surrounding wall around the entire dwelling. Thus ensconced in this miniature fort with its gun tower overlooking all the village, he proclaimed himself a khan.

Within a short time of arriving in the village, he had led its people in an attack upon a neighbouring settlement. In this manner he quickly increased his domain, making feudal vassals of those he subjugated. Within a short time he had gained a reputation in the region as a chief to be feared and respected. He lived in a bigger house now, a small fort that was opulently furnished, as befitted the status of a khan. He had well-trained bodyguards and he obtained more money through his raids, which he used to purchase more rifles, ammunition, and supplies. He had acquired a harem, small, but of extremely high quality. And now he waited to be noticed.

Sharif Khan was not his real name. He was last known as Reese Hunter, a captain in the First Division of the Temporal Corps. Yet that was not his real name either. The real Reese Hunter had died in 17th century France, his throat slit by an assassin. Sharif Khan had been known by many names. One of them was Barry Martingale, once a sergeant in the Temporal Corps. Barry Martingale had been a cover identity, carefully constructed to allow an agent of Temporal Intelligence to infiltrate a terrorist organisation headed by a man named Drakov. The man who had been Barry Martingale, then Reese Hunter, and who was now the Afridi chieftain, Sharif Khan, was a TIA agent known by the codename Phoenix.