John Schettler - Golem 7

They were silent for a moment until Nordhausen cleared his throat. “Alright, then how are we going to proceed? Do we back out of this intervention or do we go forward? And if we proceed where to we act—with the convoy captain, with Darlington Court , with the U-boat and torpedo thing, or something else? Or do we just blow this whole thing off and go back and arrange the death of Kenan Tanzir’s father?”

“Something tells me that last option is off the table,” said Paul. “A man’s life has roots where he is planted, yet sometimes they become entwined with the roots of other events and become so knotted that to change his fate you must confine your gardening to a given plot of holy ground. That’s all we really are in the final scheme of things, gardeners. We water here, prune there, pull up weeds when we find them. These events all seem knotted together with the history of this battle and the fate of the Bismarck . The vengeance that was born in the heart of Kenan’s father resulted from a bombardment by British battleships—some of the very same ships, commanded by the very same officers in this campaign against Bismarck . I don’t see all the connections yet, but there is obvious entanglement here, even on a quantum level, and there may be something else involved that we have yet to see, some worm in the loam of the soil we are all tilling at that has some profound effect in the future.”

“He waxes poetic,” said Kelly. “But I suppose Paul has a good point. Our research led us here , to this campaign. If the Assassins and the Order are also running interventions in this history, then their research led them both here too. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but this appears to be where the action is at the moment, and so I say we march to the sound of the guns. Let’s kick some ass! Bismarck is supposed to be sunk, whether our take on reality is valid or not. It’s a ship full of Zombies, Maeve. We’re Prime Movers, and we think she belongs at the bottom of the sea, so let’s put her there!”

“Bravo,” said Paul. “We’re in an altered state to begin with, an altered Meridian, but as long as we’re here, we may as well be comfortable. I simply will not accept the world out there if we let Palma stand. So let’s change the history as best we can here and see what we end up with. We may not ever again get all the pieces of this puzzle put back together again, Maeve, but we can try. I vote we let the intervention we’ve made thus far stand and continue to try and sink the Bismarck . I don’t know what we can do about Hood if she survives—all those lives moving into the continuum—another ship full of Zombies. I don’t know what we can do about Arethusa and the lives lost there, may they rest in peace. That’s up to the Heisenberg Wave and Paradox to decide when we finish.”

“Yes,” said Maeve sourly. “Let’s hope nobody aboard Arethusa goes on to have any significant ancestors—is that what you’re saying? And let’s hope everybody off HMS Hood goes on to lead saintly lives. It would be a shame if we inadvertently set loose a future axe murderer, right?” The sarcasm in her voice was obvious. “I vote we swat down Lonesome Dove and see if we can start over.” She folded her arms, frowning.

Everyone looked at Robert.

“I take it Kelly and I want to operate further,” said Paul. “That’s two votes. So it’s all on you for the moment, Robert. This is your research. Do we proceed now or turn this off and try for something better? If you vote no, then we have a stalemate here, a 2-2 deadlock, and we’ll just have to talk it through until we reach a consensus on some other way to operate.”

“Well… I hate to incur the wrath of Maeve,” said the professor. “But I’ve invested a lot of time digging in this little garden already, to use your own metaphor, Paul. I say we pull the weeds, dig up this worm Kenan Tanzir, and then see what we get. I vote we proceed now, one way or another.”

“Then it’s decided,” said Paul looking at Maeve. “We’ll act from where we are, as discretely as possible, Maeve. I understand how you feel, but we’re in this far and we need to follow through. Here’s how I see it. I don’t see how shuffling the shipping order on these steamers in Convoy HX-126 is going to help us, or anyone else, for that matter. Wohlfarth has demonstrated himself to be an unstable variable here, a Free Radical. He’s going to do what he’s going to do. We could line all the ships up for him and he might just decide to take a pass. Nor do I think we’ll have much luck if we try to sink or eliminate U-556 from the scenario. It’s Bismarck we’re after. If she survives she’ll cause havoc to the history. This we’ve already seen. We have to sink her, so it’s time for another intervention. We may not have the Golems to guide us, but we can send practical and sound information as to her movements as we know them now.”

“But we don’t know them,” Maeve protested.

“Wait a second…” said Kelly, sitting up in his chair, his attention suddenly drawn to the Golem module. My, my. Yes we do!” He pointed to the Golem screen, active again, lights winking on and off, colors migrating on the chronology line indicating fresh new data was resolved from the stream and coalesced into a valid potential outcome. “It looks like Golem 7 is leading the charge again, and the others have finally reached a weight of opinion,” he said excitedly.

“No,” said Paul. “But three Prime Movers in this very room just did, and I think our resolution here has just broken the log jam. As long as we were in doubt, unresolved, with no clear path ahead, the Golems were lost in confusion as well. But we just set our minds on a course of action, and it’s already had an effect.”

“God help us,” said Maeve.

“Alright then,” said Paul. “You say you have an old US officer’s steamer trunk, Maeve? Drag it out. Here’s what I propose we do…”

“We are fiftymiles ahead of them by now,” said Lindemann. “It’s not a safe margin yet, but the initiative is ours, sir. We can turn southwest into the Atlantic at any time and meet up with a tanker.”

It had been a long 24 hours since that first brief engagement with the British fleet. Bismarck and Prince Eugen had steamed south at good speed, slowly pulling away from the British main body, though a pesky light cruiser had dogged their heels for some time. At dawn and dusk she seemed to disappear, and Lütjens took heart, thinking they had thrown off the pursuit at last. But by mid day she was there again, re-directed by Swordfish off of HMS Victorious equipped with Type 279 air to surface search radar.

“Those antiquated planes haven’t dared to try and mount another attack,” said Lütjens. “I doubt if they will try again today.”

“They are using them as search planes now,” said Lindemann. “But I think we must turn again, Admiral, and soon. We have two choices. Either we make for Brest and join Scharnhorst and Gneisenau for a major operation in the months ahead, or we go it alone in the Atlantic. Our fuel situation will determine the wisest course. If we shake off the enemy for certain, then a rendezvous with a tanker is a practical choice. We could ask for a U-boat screen in that event.”

“But if they still have our location, the time it would take to refuel both ships would give them a very good chance of catching up.”

“I don’t think they know where we are, sir,” said Lindemann. “That cruiser has disappeared again.”