John Schettler - Thor's Anvil

“One sent my ship here,” said Elena. “We have a second, delivered by the late Admiral Volsky, a gift from his young Captain.”

“Ah, yes, that young man Fedorov—a most enterprising soul. He had such a key?”

“Apparently, though we aren’t certain how he may have come by it, or when.”

“Might it serve like the other—the one that brought your ship here?”

“We aren’t certain of that either. But on my ship I have a box that seems designed to hold these keys for safekeeping.”

“A box?”

“We found it at Delphi… This is a long story, but you might as well hear it.” Elena then related the tale of how the Argos Fire had come there, but left off the part about the Watch, Tovey, and a few other details.”

“My word,” said Churchill. “Someone has a fancy for tucking away little surprises in the remains of ancient Greece monuments.”

“And perhaps in other places.” Elena threw that out like a bridge player leading into a long suit, and Churchill was quick to answer.

“Other places? Well you may be pleased to learn that the Germans have finally given up Gibraltar. We starved the jackals out! Now then, I understand this key that was oddly packed away on the Rodney had something to do with Saint Michael’s Cave.”

“So we believe, sir. If the place is secure, I think we’d better have a good close look. I have men for the job, very reliable.”

“Any idea what you expect to find?”

“A door. That what keys mostly open, when they aren’t mated to magic boxes. The one I was given got me through that door beneath Delphi, and we now think there is something in Saint Michael’s Cave that needs close inspection.”

“Yet you haven’t the key to open such a door, assuming one exists. Hasn’t it gone down with Rodney? Or are these all a kind of Skeleton Key that can open many things at once.”

“We don’t know, but we at least have two keys to make a go of it if we do find a door there that needs opening.”

“If neither works? Then what? I can make the services of our artisan engineers available to you. They’ve tunneled out miles of passageways in the rock. This would just be one more.”

“I don’t think I would advise that, sir,” said Elena. “First off, these doors, at least the one I’ve seen, are rather sturdy, made from highly refined metal alloys that were obviously built to keep uninvited people out. No. I think it needs the key. Even demolition charges might not work on such a door.”

“Then we could simply go through the stone to either side,” Churchill suggested.

“Sir,” said Elena. “If your dentist told you it might be a bit of a task to get at the ache that’s been bothering you, would you advise him to drill out the teeth to either side? What I am suggesting is that whatever might be behind such a door should be… well preserved, and safeguarded. I’m afraid demolitions and willy-nilly drilling might be out of the question.”

“I don’t understand. It isn’t likely that we will ever fetch the key that went down with Rodney . It’s full fathom five, or worse by now, with bones of coral made.”

“Sir… and this may be difficult to explain. I was told by a certain gentleman, who might best remain undisclosed now, that there may be a means of locating that key.”

“Beneath the Atlantic Ocean?”

“Not quite. It may be there now, and unreachable, but that was not always the case. As our presence here testifies, movement in time is now an impossible possibility. A moment ago you stated the key was just sitting in the British Museum for decades. And it was somewhere else before that.”

“You’re suggesting that we might move in time to fetch the thing? My friend Mister H.G. Wells would love that. Have you read his tale?”

“I have sir. It’s a bit of a classic.”

“Yet we don’t seem to have a time machine handy. Otherwise your suggestion would be a splendid idea.”

“Well sir, we might have a time machine handy after all. My ship moved in time, that much is clear. The Russian ship moved in the same way, though that mystery is a horse of a different color. All that aside, something along those lines might be done, though I can’t confirm anything at this moment. Yet I think we had better have a look at Saint Michael’s Cave just the same. Might I have your permission to proceed there?”

“Of course. I’ll see that the navy knows you’ll be coming. But Miss Fairchild… What do you think you will find there? If there is a door of some kind, what might it lead to, another box like the one on your ship?”

Elena hesitated a moment. She had her suspicions, but no real certain knowledge. “All we know is that we have these keys, and with minutely engraved numerals that correspond to geographic coordinates. Those on the key within Rodney point directly to Saint Michael’s Cave.”

At that Churchill raised an eyebrow, slowly lighting a cigar.

“You have seen this first hand? How would that be possible?”

“No, I haven’t see it myself, but this was confided to me by a reliable source.”

“Yet one you prefer not to disclose.”

Elena relented. “Mister Prime Minister, this information does not come from this era, but from a future time.”

“Ah… Then your source is a gentleman, or lady, from the future?”

“Precisely. It would make sense, actually, for more would be known about this the in future years.”

“Then the key itself was obtained at some future time. That at least is hopeful. That being the case, Miss Fairchild, doesn’t it speak to the futility of looking into this further? You have just established that it will not happen until some future moment.”

Elena inclined her head. “My dear sir, I have history books on my ship that related the events of this war in great detail. In them, the German army never attacked Gibraltar, nor did they ever occupy the Rock. They never reached Moscow either, and I could go on to relate any number of events that have clearly happened here, but never happened in the history I know. The point I am making is this—things change, the history is not chiseled in stone, and interventions in the course of these events from travelers originating in the future are likely the cause of these changes.”

Churchill nodded, taking a thoughtful drag on his cigar. “In that light, I can see how keen your interest is to visit Saint Michael’s Cave. Please do so at your earliest convenience, and do let this old man know what you find there, if anything. And speaking of your history, it might also be interesting to take a little peek at one of those books of yours, and see what I might have to deal with in 1943.”

“Of course, sir, we’ll do anything we can for you.”

Churchill thought about that, recalling what the young Russian Captain had said to him about the danger of knowing too much, and how it might influence him to reach decisions he might not have otherwise taken, changing the history he sought to grasp in the first place.

“On second thought,” he said, watching the smoke slowly rise from his cigar. “I think I’d better confine myself to reading reports written in the here and now. We’ve a new year on our doorstep, and trying to walk in my own shadow simply won’t do. I think I’d prefer to face it head on, and not know what that other self of mine once did, or failed to do. Beyond that, you might consider that this is the true course of history now, not that written in your books. These events may never reach an accord with you library, and we must live them through.”

“Aye sir,” said MacRae, and Elena nodded.

“Let’s drink on it then. I always like to follow a good cigar with brandy. To 1943 then!”