James Palmer - Shadows Through Time

“He wants to remove himself from this timeline,” said Herbert. “This version of Earth.”

“What? Can he do that?”

Herbert shrugged. “He thinks he can. Captain Burton has had some experiences that seem to suggest it’s possible.”

Miss Hemlock arched an eyebrow. “Experiences?”

“He met versions of himself from an alternate timeline,” said Herbert. “It was quite fascinating. One of these other Burtons was some sort of mystic who actually had pieces of the Wold-Newton stones embedded in his forehead. By focusing his mental energy, he seemed to be able to move himself and the other versions of himself through different universes. By Jove. I suppose it isn’t a universe anymore, is it? Perhaps a multiverse…”

“That is fascinating,” said Miss Hemlock, interrupting him. “And it gives me an idea.”

Captain Sir Richard Francis Burton, the Time Traveler, and Miss Hemlock arrived at the Tower of London to discover it overrun with Morlocks. They heard screams and gunfire as they drove beneath the large archway that curved toward the main entrance. Burton urged the wary animals to a stop near the tall steps that led into the ancient structure. The explorer smelled gunpowder and blood as he hopped down from the driver’s box and opened the carriage door.

“What is this plan of yours?” asked the Time Traveler

“It’s simple enough,” said Miss Hemlock, stepping out of the stolen carriage. “We let Nebogipfel win.”

“What?” protested Herbert. “That’s the opposite of what we should do.” But as he alighted from the carriage, his mouth stretched into a devious grin. “By Jove! No, Miss Hemlock is right. We must let him win. It’s the only way to stop him.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” said Burton.

“I’ll explain on the way,” said Miss Hemlock. “Come. We must hurry.”

“If we are to let him win,” said the explorer, running after her, “why not let him take the Wold-Newton stones and be gone?”

“Because then he wins,” said Miss Hemlock as they went up the steps. A Morlock lay upon them, bleeding, its smoked goggles yanked half off its misshapen head.

“This ill-advised daylight invasion isn’t going to end well for the Morlocks,” Burton said.

“My doppelganger is using them as a distraction,” said Herbert. “With half the city fighting the Morlocks he can get at the Wold-Newton stones. Besides, I think he intends to leave them here, giving them a head start on eating humanity. We’re nothing but Proto Eloi, as it were.”

“Do you have any idea what he’s talking about?” asked Miss Hemlock.

Burton nodded. “I’m afraid so, my dear.” He produced a revolver from his pocket. Herbert was similarly armed. Miss Hemlock gasped in surprise.

“We stopped by Gloucester Place to procure weaponry,” Burton explained. “I’m afraid I was unsuccessful in absconding with the Map of Time. I was waylaid by Herbert’s evil doppelganger.”

“No worries,” said Miss Hemlock, holding up a sheaf of papers. “I got it. He had it on his person.”

Burton grinned. “I know. He told me so in the future. I should have known he’d want to keep something that important close at hand at all times. He probably planned to sleep with it under his bloody pillow.”

Miss Hemlock stared at him. “You traveled into the future? My future?”

Burton waved the question away. “Yes. Nebogipfel sent me there to gloat. I’ll explain later.”

“Ah, yes. Well. As for the weapons, let’s hope we don’t need them,” Miss Hemlock said. “Remember, whatever harm befalls Nebogipfel will be visited upon poor Herbert as well. The two are the same person.”

“Right,” said Burton. “Enough chin-wagging. Let’s get this nonsense over with.”

The trio of Time Travelers found Nebogipfel easily enough. They simply followed the carnage into the deepest recesses of the Tower of London, where all of Mycroft Holmes’ best secrets were kept. The hallways were littered with bodies, both human and Morlock, and more screams could be heard down dim corridors and at the bottom of curving stone staircases.

Herbert’s dark doppelganger leered at them as they entered a large, high-ceilinged room empty save for a complex apparatus of wood and metal that stretched high into the air. A chill flew up Burton’s spine as he recognized it as a crude version of the machinery that housed—would house—the consciousness of Mycroft Holmes in the year 1945.

“Herbert!” Nebogipfel exclaimed when he saw the Time Traveler. “So good to see you, old boy. I’m sure this must come as a shock to you.”

“Not really,” said Herbert. “Captain Burton explained everything to me.”

He glared icily at Burton. “How wonderful. You’re just in time—pun intended—to witness my latest triumph.” He turned, busying himself with fitting the Wold-Newton stones into a wire housing at the center of the mass of wood scaffolding, copper wiring, and brass fittings. Burton noted the wire framework he inserted the stones into looked too much like a human brain.

“Go right ahead,” said Miss Hemlock. “We have no intention of stopping you.”

Nebogipfel laughed. “Splendid! Then it appears I have over-prepared.”

“Your Morlock invasion was entirely unnecessary,” said Herbert.

Nebogipfel shrugged. “Live and learn. Ah. There now. All is ready.”

“This was your endgame all along,” said Burton. “You exploited Mycroft’s obsession with prolonging his influence on the world so that you would have the means to separate yourself from Herbert.”

“You figured it out! You were always the clever one. History will honor that cleverness, Captain Burton, I assure you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. But Mycroft Holmes gets what he wants too. I’m not a monster. I never expected the mountebank to renege on our deal.”

“You mean you never made sure he’d go through with it?” asked Miss Hemlock.

Nebogipfel turned to face them, shaking his head. “No. I never went forward through Time again to see if he kept his end of the bargain. He will use this technology to prolong his existence, after a fashion. Of that much I am certain. Isn’t that right, Captain Burton?”

The explorer nodded. “That’s true. I’ve seen it. Mycroft’s mind will exist in a future version of this contraption, half mad, while an old man mutters incantations.”

“Crowley,” said Nebogipfel. “And do you know the true purpose of that incantation?”

“I do!” blurted Miss Hemlock. “It’s for your benefit, isn’t it? Some kind of temporal resonance?”

“Very good, my dear. And I thought Captain Burton was the clever one.”

“Temporal resonance?” Burton murmured.

“Of course!” exclaimed Herbert. “By Jove! He intends to set up a harmonic and temporal resonance between these stones and the ones in the future. The ones that contain Mycroft’s consciousness.”

“Great minds think alike,” said Nebogipfel with a smile, tapping his right temple. “Or is that like minds think greatly?”

“Crowley’s incantation, then,” said Miss Hemlock, “is intended to help you cross out of this timestream.”

“Right again,” said Nebogipfel, dancing. “The doddering old fool thinks it will summon a supernatural champion to whip the Germans into surrender.”

“You’re being flippant about a serious matter,” said Burton. “This void to which you seek access is far from empty. I’ve been there. There are things , entities, that live within it, and you will only call attention to yourself.”

“I know where the monsters lurk, Burton, and I can’t wait to make their acquaintance. Perhaps I shall befriend them like I did the Morlocks.”