Disclaimer: The makers of the film The Patriot own Colonel Tavington. I own the rest.
Genre: romance/time travelTavington continues hijacking the Aurora Project, and much discussion ensues….
Episode 9: The Door Into Time
Part IIITavington quite liked Walford's lavish office. Lisa, already there and hard at work that morning, had hovered anxiously until he shooed her away. She was unsure about allowing an interloper into her former director's inner sanctum, but she had also seemed oddly relieved. A born follower needs some one in charge, Tavington reflected. She was a industrious, serious woman, and Tavington hoped that in time he could win from her the kind of loyalty she had shown her former revered "Boss."
The style of the office was not that alien to Tavington. In this utilitarian compound, it was a haven of wood-paneled walls; deep, comfortable chairs upholstered in dark leather; a wide and handsome cherry desk; shelves of books and artifacts from all over the world; some good pictures, though a few in an incomprehensibly "abstract" style. He sat at the desk, and rifled through the drawers with delight, finding a trove of little treasures. One was a "laser pointer." Diana had one, but this was in a fine case with a pen and a pencil, and all were of gold. Tavington had come to admire the innovations in writing tools, and took Walford's pen in hand with some pleasure. These things were his, for now; and might be his always if he proved himself the kind of leader he hoped he really was.
He wrote out a list of subjects for discussion at the meeting, and then got up, pacing restlessly. A great deal of the upcoming meeting hinged on other details of the conversations he had had with Dr Kolb in the past few days. The physicist would be at the meeting, and Tavington could refer technical questions to him. He liked the fellow, though he failed to understand how a grown man could allow himself to be called by a name like "Rocky." Still, it was a harmless eccentricity, and the man had been a mine of information. And he had been nearly as fired by the Tavington's idea as Tavington himself. True to his promise, he had said nothing until Tavington could lay his proposal before the Project members. His wife, Kolb had told him, was one of the scientists dismissed by Walford when he left—an astronomer. She and their child were living with relations. Kolb, in their private conversations, had declared himself squarely in Tavington's corner, if only for the prospect of a reunion with his family, and the possibility of a better life for them. Perhaps he'd also like to have more than the one child authorized by the government. Kolb had told him more about this time's Draconian social policies and the associated penalties; and the reason for Diana's prophylactic device became clear. Tavington grimaced in distaste at the idea of state interference in the sacred preserve of a man's marital relations. What an abominable place!
There was another door in the office, and Tavington opened it, finding himself in a wide passage, still in the same attractive and not unfamiliar style. There were three doors here. One was to a well-fitted water closet—most convenient, for him. He made a point of using it immediately, feeling that he had somehow marked it as his. The next door opened into a conference room with a big polished table and many chairs. Excellent. Opening the last revealed what were evidently Walford's personal quarters when in residence. Tavington paused and tried not to gape. Diana had told him of Walford's fantastic wealth, and the entire Project was proof of it, but not until seeing this place had it been brought home to him in such a personal way. Their rich, Diana had assured him, were very rich; just as everyone else was poor. There were evidently several rooms here, but he had no time to linger. That would be an amusing prospect for later. After the meeting, if all went well, he and Diana would explore these amazing rooms together.
Time. Points in time. Eras. Ages in the past. Time was the crux of the matter, and the substance of his thoughts. He was in a sensitive position. He had been given the leadership of the Aurora Project because no one else wanted it. However, he was not an absolute leader, or a leader with any physical power over his subordinates. He could not make outrageous suggestions, and would have to remain balanced delicately between authority and consensus.
Briefly, he had daydreamed about bringing the Aurora Project into the South Carolina of the rebellion. Even if the staff members would permit such an intervention (and he was perfectly sure they would not, given that many of them were convinced that "The American Revolution" had been a very good idea), what would he really achieve? The thanks of a grateful nation? A knighthood? He might possibly obtain a brief audience with His Majesty, but what would that serve? Would George III have any grasp of the lessons of the future that Tavington could disclose? Would anyone care, except to snatch all the amazing discoveries that could be exploited for gain? Tavington would still have to bow and scrape before aristocrats like Cornwallis, and he would be a nine-days' wonder, a mere oddity. The King's ministers would seize control the Aurora Project, and God knows what would become of the staff.
No. They must go farther back. He knew that his own education had prejudiced him in favor of some places rather than others. It would be the same with the rest. They would all plump for the past they studied, for their specialties. However, they could not choose a time to entrust their lives and futures to simply because it would, as Diana sometimes regrettably said, "be neat."
The department heads arrived, exchanging greetings. They seemed a little more animated than they had in the past. A new project, a common goal—it seems to have been just what they needed. Most smiled at him as they came in. Some, who did not know him all that well, addressed him as "Colonel." Tavington felt a little thrill of satisfaction. Being addressed by a proper title gave him, however fallaciously, a faint aura of legitimate authority. He was beginning to comprehend the egalitarianism of the Project. It was understandable in a small group of educated individuals. He suspected they would not be quite so egalitarian when the entire support staff, from research assistants to kitchen help, was reinstated. But it was all one to him: Let them all be equal to one another, as long as they know they are not equal to me. They were all looking at him, faces full of hope and expectancy. It would not do to disappoint. He took his place at the head of the long table and let them sit in anticipation a brief moment before starting the meeting.
"An island," Tavington began. "I believe that an island would be our best choice for a home in the past."
There was an excited babble at the conference table, with everyone talking about places they liked, or had liked reading about, or to which they had sentimental attachments.
The head of Sociology, whose name, most unpronounceably, was Lyudmilla, was concerned. "Not an inhabited island, I hope. It would be wrong to displace an aboriginal population." Some rolled their eyes. Tavington did not.
Michael smiled slyly. "We might make friends with the locals. What's left of Ireland is still fairly lush and green even in this time. It would be a fine sight in the old days—good soil, plenty of rain, a good place for horses—"
Tavington shook his head, and regained control of the discussion. "We might make friends with the locals, or we might not. Even if we recall every single staff member and the families as well, this group of scholars and craftsmen is not up to an assault by spear-wielding ancient warriors." Some the staff shuddered. Tavington internally shuddered himself. Some of the men could be of use in a fight, and more might be trained for emergencies, but it was not a desirable prospect. "As it happens, I quite agree with—um—with our sociologist." He brought of the word quite naturally, and was absurdly pleased with himself. Now if I could just manage her name. "I think an uninhabited island is exactly where we should go. Our people will need time to build up our settlement, establish a kind of commerce, adapt to their new lives. We will still want to have time to pursue our mission in the past. The distractions of tribal warfare would prove disastrous."
"Bermuda?" guessed Diana, with a hopeful glint in her eye.
"Not Bermuda, my dear," Tavington replied, "but Madeira."
There were some puzzled looks. A number of those present had never even heard of Madeira. Tavington had been there briefly during a voyage before the war, when his ship stopped to water and revictual. He had been much struck by the place, and wondered that it was not better known. Perhaps it too, like so much else of natural beauty, had been laid waste by the warming of the planet and the poisoning of the air and sea.
A map of the Atlantic with the coastlines to east and west was displayed. Tavington used his new toy, the laser pointer, to some effect.
"Bermuda," he declared, highlighting the tiny island almost in the middle of the Atlantic. "Very nice by all accounts, and it proved nearly a paradise for the ship-wrecked ship's company of the Sea Venture in 1609. But it is quite small: only about 50 square miles, and rather low. It appears that severe storms-even hurricanes--are not unknown. I have other reservations as well. We might be able to live out our lives rather comfortably there, but we would truly be isolated from the rest of the world. Conventional travel by sea would be extremely hazardous. We could, of course, use the Aurora Device to travel to geographically distant places in nearly the same time, but I am informed that might not be desirable on a regular basis." There were signs of agreement from all around the table.
Herb Schultz, the senior archaeologist, had more to say. "In the long run, that kind of isolation could be dangerous. What if in the next few generations we lost the knowledge of navigation or had trouble building a large enough vessel to sail the Atlantic? What if the Aurora Device failed? We could have a disaster like the one on Easter Island." Tavington raised his brows, and Herb explained. "Easter Island is the most remote island on earth. The Polynesians got there, and then overpopulated it and deforested it until the culture collapsed in a murderous fight for resources. They didn't have much of anything but volcanic obsidian, which makes very good weapons."
There was a brief, uneasy silence. Tavington smile thinly. "Thank you, sir, for that insight. Bermuda could easily become overpopulated as well." He highlighted another, larger island, about five hundred miles off the Moroccan coast, and not far south of the Straits of Gibraltar. "Madeira, however, while it is isolated enough for safety, is within reasonable sailing distance of the Mediterranean for even an indifferent navigator. It is bigger than the island of Malta—over 700 square miles. It has a most pleasant and delicate climate—"
"Right in the Gulf Stream," agreed Michael.
"—which I consider of great importance for a population that is unaccustomed to life out-of-doors. Nothing could be more encouraging or be clearer proof of the improvement in their situation than agreeable, moderate weather, with no need to hide from sun and heat. I would like Jennifer—" the botanist perked up at her name, "to study the possibilities of crops and plantations there. I know that Madeira is famous for wine, fruits, and flowers, but obviously it can produce other foodstuffs."
"We need Jack Gronewald. He's the agronomist," Jennifer suggested shyly.
Tavington nodded with approval. "Then we shall put his name at the top of list of people to recall. Madeira has good harbors. I believe there is another, smaller, habitable island in the archipelago that also has harbors and beaches. Our people will relearn the pleasures of fishing." He saw some winces, and stated firmly, "It will be an excellent, bountiful resource, and completely untainted in that long-ago time. Though the estimable Dr Johnson himself has said that 'it was a brave man that first et an oyster,' I predict that within a short time, fishing will be a favored pastime, and fish and shellfish an important part of our diet." Tavington had found a map and basic information about Madeira to bring to the meeting, and Lisa had copied it for everyone with one of her infernal machines. She was sitting discreetly in a corner now, busily taking minutes.
"There's something else in Madeira's favor," Michael spoke up. "There's no record of any seismic activity on there. Whereas the Azores have frequent, severe quakes."
An engineer peered at his map. "What about this chain of islands closer to Africa? They look a lot bigger."
Michael frowned. "The Canary Islands get a lot of wind and dust off the Sahara. Even Madeira gets a little occasionally."
Diana was looking at the ceiling, plainly trying to recall details. "I believe—" she began, and then said slowly—"I believe that the Canaries were known to be inhabited even in classical times. Yes," she said more confidently. "The name isn't because of the birds. It's because of all the wild dogs said to be running around them." She saw the amused expressions at the table, and added defensively, "I think it's in Pliny. "
"What about Madeira?" Michael turned to Diana, who was looking through the packet of information.
She turned a page, and said to Tavington, with a teasing smile, "You've been doing your research, Colonel!" She read, "Madeira might have been sighted by the Phoenicians, but there is no evidence of any settlement until the Portuguese, under the direction of Prince Henry the Navigator, charted first Porto Santo in 1418, and then Madeira Island in 1419. Settlement began soon after." She looked up, and gave her lover a keen glance. "Evidently you want to go farther back in time than we previously intended."
"Yes," replied Tavington, giving the committee no time to argue. "Please hear my reasons before you offer comment. You brought me here for my superior understanding of the workings of the 18th century. From that superior knowledge I can tell you that it would be extremely difficult to change or even slow the industrial progress of the United Kingdom. The King would not understand our admonitions, and people with interest and influence would not agree to shut down certain profitable operations simply because they might lead to later abuses or to even more harmful developments. As I understand it, Britain's wealth of coal spurred much of its inventiveness. The coal is not going away. Someone is going to use it, and if they were to be forbidden to build in England, they will go elsewhere."
He moved to the issue that most concerned him. "More to the point: by the 18th century, it will be impossible to find a place to live that is not already under a powerful nation's authority."
"Pitcairn's Island," Michael suggested, and grinned.
"Very amusing," Tavington replied frostily. "And if we suddenly appear, it will not be unclaimed for long. How will you maintain independence in the face of the Royal Navy, or the French, or the Spanish? You will deal with those who will have no hesitation in plundering your discoveries for what they can immediately use, and who will discount your warnings. They may even seize this facility. What would some individuals do with the power of time travel?" He allowed that to sink in. "Independence is our wisest, safest, our best course."
Mark was thinking as well. "We could always send some of our people to buy property outright in England. We would have legitimate use of our land, and our own technology would influence the course history takes for the better. We can teach them about wind and solar power—"
Lyudmilla was uneasy. "If we live in a densely inhabited area we obviously can't keep secret the fact that we are time travelers. Once that gets out we're going to have endless security problems. We can't be sure that we will only influence technology. The tremendous power we can wield might cause the government to react in a despotic manner—seizing the facility to control us for political purposes. Interactions with the locals would be touchy, at best. There was some large-scale political violence there in the 18th and 19th century. We could spur even more unrest. I think the Colonel is right: it would be very dangerous to put ourselves in the power of any government. We've managed to stay under the radar of our own Central Committee. I think we all know what will happen if someone really takes notice. That's why I'm very much interested in hearing more of what Colonel Tavington has to say."
Tavington gratefully took his cue. "Thank you. If we desire independence, we must travel to at least the early fifteenth century, in my opinion. And there we find a different and equally knotty problem: an age of religious fanaticism and boundless superstition."
Diana gently objected. "The Middle Ages are often unfairly regarded as a time of ignorance and persecution. Really, the seventeenth century was much more violent."
Tavington gave her a quelling look and shook his head. "Nonetheless, I believe that none of us wishes to deal with heresy accusations, or the idea that we are devils. Nor do I personally want to find myself, even tenuously, under the authority of the Bishop of Rome. It is my own opinion that we could do the most good, and influence the future most benignly, in the second century of the Christian era. The Roman Empire was at its most enlightened. Some trading and scholarly contact with the Empire could be established. We could set an example of a technologically advanced, non-slaveholding culture, which could cause them to question their own beliefs. If we were on an island like Madeira, the Romans would not know how to find us in order to assimilate us politically; but we could become known throughout the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, without the source of our superior knowledge being common knowledge.
"We could, of course, share our insights with enlightened individuals of the period, and there were many. I had rather try to convince Marcus Aurelius of the dangers of the future than any Hanoverian monarch. Our opportunities for study, as residents of the period travelling conventionally, would be extraordinary. But a safe abode in the ancient past has yet another advantage. I shall refer briefly to it, and then direct further questions to Dr Kolb.
"He has disclosed to me that while returning to the future after changing the past may be hazardous, it is comparatively safe to foray into the future from the past. In short, were we to base ourselves in 146 A.D., say, we could travel to future dates, making adjustments, or intervening in unfortunate events as we see fit. We would be far safer there. As we move closer to our own period, the possibility arises of—what was it, Doctor?"
Kolb spoke up. "Molecular disassociation. Colonel Tavington would be at risk of pretty much dissolving if he attempted to return to a 1781 that had been radically changed or confronted himself within a certain radius. And we would be at risk coming back here once we've really altered the past century. But further back we're reasonably safe. We can't ever know how much we've changed our own time. We can change it and not know it, or know it and not change it. I won't get into the quantum physics of it."
"Thank God," Mark murmured. Lisa smiled discreetly.
"The uncertainty principle. Heissenberg." An engineer shrugged.
"Thus," purred Tavington in his most persuasive tones, "we would have an excellent opportunity to turn centuries of brutish ignorance towards modern rationality. And the language would not be a significant problem, since any educated man knows Latin."
Heads snapped up. Diana winced, but said nothing. The engineers' mouths hung open.
"Actually," Michael remarked as tactfully as possible. "Knowledge of the classics is not as universal in this period as it was in your own time. Some of us know some Latin—some more than others. But some of our people--"
"Not a word," confessed Rocky, without a trace of embarrassment.
Tavington, brought up short, tried not to sneer. He supposed it was impossible to be an expert in everything. He, after all, had no idea what "quantum physics" was.
Diana softened the blow. "But some of us do. I read it well, though I would have to work on speaking it. Alan is a superb classicist, with good Greek as well as Latin. A number of us have at least a foundation or a smattering. It is something that could be offered as course of study. Wherever we went, there would be things we would have to learn about a culture. And many of our people will never leave the safety of the island, anyway."
Tavington smiled at her in satisfaction. "Very true. It will be the task of the history department to determine a date that might be the most advantageous, and to create a course of study that would present the nature of the period to the project staff as a whole."
Justin Lakiotis, the biology head, thumped the table in his eagerness to be heard. "As soon as we have a date, we need to get going on a survey." He bounced a little in his chair. Tavington thought he looked a little young for so much responsibility, besides wearing a style of hairdressing very like a wild Red Indian; with the sides of his head shaved, and a crest of hair standing straight up in the middle. He wore a single gold earring, and altogether looked not at all the thing, but he seemed earnest enough about his work.
"Are you volunteering to do the Drop?" asked Michael, brows raised. He saw Tavington's curiosity, and explained. "We can't just open a gate and send our people through—especially hundreds of years in the past. For something like this, we look at current ground levels, and then open a gate a few feet higher and send out a jumper—a scout. We don't want a time traveler to drown or be encased in solid rock, or trap them in the walls of a building. We use a pressurized bubble and protective gear which will deflect the jumper away from smaller objects like animals or trees. Once on the ground, the jumper makes a careful measurement of the gate area, and we can adjust it so the next travelers get through smoothly."
Justin broke in, "Yes, I do want to make the jump, thank you very much." He turned excitedly to Tavington. "Once I get through and mark out a permanent gate area, we'll send out a full survey team to do an ecological workup. Jenny's right: we'll want Jack. We should also call in Lesley Urquhart for a marine study. She's a cracking good sailor, too. It would be great if we could get one of the boats out of storage and go all the way around the island by sea."
Tavington was feeling quite pleased at the practical direction the meeting was moving in. So far people had no major objections to his proposal, and were thinking about ways to make it succeed. "How many would go in all?"
Michael ticked off the names. "Well, I'll need to go. I've run most of these surveys in the past. Then Justin obviously, to make the jump and then get a handle on the fauna. Jennifer for botany. Jack and Lesley, if we can get them. Mark, would you be willing to be the medic?"
Mark gave a nod. "I'll feel better, though, if we can find another doctor and get our nursing and medtech people back. The kind of staff we're talking about needs adequate health support. I'm also going to be busy stocking up for a move like this. We won't be able to make a lot of pharmaceuticals we take for granted. Let's get Luthien and Taylor back too. We'll want good dental care."
Michael was making notes of his own. "If we can clear a flat space, we can get out the chopper and do an aerial survey."
"Chopper?"
"A helicopter," said Michael. "A flying machine that rises straight up from the ground and lands the same way. It doesn't need a long landing field the way airplanes do."
Tavington thrilled with terror and excitement. A flying machine! With what he fondly imagined was admirable nonchalance, Tavington asked, "And how many men can such a machine carry?"
Michael smirked, understanding him perfectly. "We can cram a few more, if we don't carry a lot of gear. Want to go for a ride, Colonel?"
Diana looked alarmed. Tavington did not meet her gaze. "Yes, I would. In fact, I think it important that I be part of this survey."
Not only Diana was alarmed. Lisa protested, "But the Boss never went on an initial survey. A leader is much too valuable to risk on that kind of—"
"Thank you, Lisa, for your concern," Tavington stopped her objections with a reassuring smile. "But I believe it important for the staff to perceive that I will ask nothing of anyone that I am not willing to risk myself. Further, I will administer this venture far more ably if I have the clearest possible understanding of our situation. I will go. Who else?"
"I'm Doug Horn, Colonel," said one of the engineers. "I'll be going to map out a number of gates. We can't send the same people through the same gates at the same time. They'd meet themselves coming and it might cause the end of the universe as we know it."
Tavington raised his brows ever so slightly. "Indeed?"
"So we stagger the gates and times, and keep careful track of who is where and when. Come to think of it, we usually have Penny along to document everything."
Lisa murmured from her corner. "Penny is in Saskatchewan. I think I can get her here, but we might have to take her mother and nephew too. He's only nine."
"What about it, Colonel?" asked Rocky Kolb. "What's the policy about families?"
Tavington was longing for a cup of tea. He did not want to disrupt the meeting by asking Lisa to fetch some, but he had never been in such a long meeting in civilized quarters without any sort of refreshment. His throat was getting dry, and he glanced furtively at the clock.
Families. Oh, yes.
"While it will present difficulties in the initial victualing, I believe that the greater number of people who bring families, the greater stability and satisfaction. A balance of old and young will make the community more home-like. We will have to consider these situations individually, but if we can make certain that foodstuffs and accommodations are sufficient, we can start recalling the families of those already in residence, and then of each recalled staff member in turn." He turned to Lisa. "Can you provide me with a list of current staff members with family?"
"No problem," Lisa beamed, and bustled from the room. Tavington saw that she was becoming more comfortable with him. He was not threatening to supplant her, or reduce her authority. She was still the administrator's secretary, and as such would have considerable influence and responsibility.
Rocky was obviously extremely happy. It showed in his voice as he went back to planning. "Once we have the survey and the proposal fully developed," he pointed out, "we can present it to the staff as a whole for a vote."
"A vote?" Tavington asked faintly.
"Oh, sure! We'll want to make sure that everyone is on board. This is a huge, life-changing deal for everyone. We can't just order people to go live two thousand years in the past on a remote island."
Lyudmilla frowned. The lines in her forehead made the shape of a Y. Tavington had never seen anything like it, and stopped staring with an effort. The sociologist spoke. "And what are we going to do about the ones who don't want to make the move? There will be those who will refuse. And who might talk. If word of this were to get out, the Central Committee will be on us so fast we won't know what hit us."
The staff members looked a little frightened. Diana bit her lip. Michael gave a wry laugh.
"I think we had better keep the staff incommunicado for the next few months. There's nothing unusual in that. There's always been a confidentiality agreement in the contracts. When the time comes, we'll give everyone who doesn't want to go the opportunity to leave. But not until just before we open the gate. If we lose some essential people, we might have to replace them, but I don't think we will. Nobody in this project has ever been bothered by the consequences of interfering with time."
"Except Marianne," sighed Diana.
"Well, yes. Marianne." Michael wondered aloud, "Does anybody know where she is?"
"I think I could find her." Diana told Tavington, "Another historian. One who butted heads once too often with Mr. Walford. She ended up in a factory posting in New Kowloon. She might be willing to come back now that he's gone. And she's very adventurous. She spent seven months in Russia in 1812." She smiled at Tavington, "And her Latin is sound."
"Call her in." Tavington directed. He was quite pleased with the large number of women who were going. It was most desirable that there be more women than men. The reverse would be certain to cause unrest.
Lisa returned, with a tray laden with a variety of drinks. There was tea for Tavington. At that moment, he knew that Lisa would prove invaluable.
There was one more issue he wanted to deal with immediately.
"It may be," he remarked, "that we will have need of at least a small military force. If we travel by conventional means in the past, we will want guards. I need men I trust for this duty."
Diana looked as if she was beginning to realize what he was asking. Everyone else simply looked befuddled.
He really, really wanted this. He would have to insist. "You brought me forward. In my time, I know where to find at least half a dozen good men."
Lyudmilla protested first. "We can't simply pluck people at random from the past. That would put us all in danger—"
Tavington raised his voice slightly. "You could bring me forward because I was considered dead. This would be the same situation." He stood and leaned on the table. "There was an unfortunate skirmish in which I lost a number of my dragoons. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I had to ride for help and leave the dying and wounded behind. By the time aid reached them, they were either lying dead or their bodies had been dragged away by wild beasts. No one will notice if they are brought here instead." He sipped his tea, and the brew soothed a throat unused to such long speech-making. "We might also find recruits among those left for dead at King's Mountain. I would choose the best, the loyalest, the most intelligent. They would prove invaluable, not only as the core of an island guard, but as men with good general knowledge of agriculture, husbandry, and many crafts. Admittedly you have many artisans from your former staff to draw upon, but I believe our small community will need men who are not scholars or specialists, but farmers and soldiers at need."
Mark was thoughtful. "It would be quite a project. You were quite a project."
Tavington was ready with a reply. "I know the time, the date, the exact location of the skirmish—"
Michael shook his head, "But you can't come with us. It's very tricky being in two places in the same time. If we do this, you'll have to carefully describe the men, and then some of us will have to go in for retrieval. And what about the fellows on the other side?"
"Do you really want to start the Rebellion all over again? Besides, I don't really know exactly what happened to the rebels anyway. As far as I could see, they were also dead or dying, but I can't be certain. At any rate, there would be no one to prevent you, and any strange stories would be discounted as the ravings of the injured."
"Point taken. We can't absorb a large number, though. They'll have to be oriented, and some of them might not be as adaptable as you are."
"If the choice is between joining the Aurora Project or being dead, I think I know what they would elect." He turned to Diana. "I would like you, Diana, to help me organize this. The sooner the men are retrieved, the sooner they can be made fit for duty."
She was thoughtful, but not rejecting the notion outright. "I can work on a draft proposal. We'll make a list of the men at the skirmish, with descriptions, and if with Doug's help—" she indicated the earnest engineer—"we might be able to devise something acceptable. King's Mountain may be something else again. It's terribly well documented and there were so many soldiers of both sides milling about we might not be able to get in and out safely. We'll give it a try."
No one was loudly denouncing his idea, though the staff members were somewhat apprehensive. Tavington needed those men. He felt guilty about their fates. He had unwisely divided his force that day; he had been distracted—and his men had paid for his lapse with their lives. He needed Bordon. A friend as well as loyal subordinate, Bordon was a well-educated man and would be an invaluable adviser and support. Tavington had made some friends here in the future, but they were from a culture alien to him. Diana, as dear and learned as she was, was still a woman, and he could not tell all his mind to her.
Yes, he would find a way to save Bordon.Bordon, certainly,and his excellent Sergeant McKenzie. A good sergeant was always worth his weight in gold. Some of the men would not be acceptable here. Tate and Riordan had been drunken brawlers and would not be worth the trouble: but Leslie, Locke, and Thurlow were good lads, and would do as they were told. They always had.
He understood Diana's reservations about the disaster at King's Mountain, but he wanted to save some of the men, if possible. Most of all he wanted to show Pattie Ferguson this extraordinary place. Ferguson's death, however, had been witnessed by many. He had been shot very conspicuously from his horse. Equally public had been Chris Huck's death back in July. Tavington was determined to do what he could, but he must tread carefully, or the Aurora project staff would balk, and everything would grind to halt amidst fears and recriminations.
Thinking of Ferguson and his horse reminded Tavington about the need for livestock. He attention returned to the meeting, and a list was made of the first people to recall—the agronomist Gronewald, the marine biologist Leslie Urquhart, Marianne the historian, Lisa's administrative staff, and at Tavington's own insistence, the veterinarian, farrier, and the two specialists in animal husbandry. Lisa would also pull the family files, and consult with staff members about relations who might be of value, or at least wish to join the venture. Research assistants, gardeners, seamstresses, and all the others would come back in due course. It must all be done with some discretion, though, to avoid attracting the attention of the authorities.
Justin, still full of excitement, had a new thought. "What are we going to name the new operation? The Madeira Project?"
Rocky laughed. "We don't even have to call the island that. The Portuguese will never name it. Maybe the island itself should have a new name."
The staff engaged in a new debate. Classical allusions suggested the Hesperides, or the Fortunate Isles. Or—
"Atlantis," blurted Herb Schultz. Everyone looked, and he smiled sheepishly, "Or New Atlantis, at least. It should really freak out the Romans."
New Atlantis. It sounded well. It sounded very well.
Next: Part IV. Tavington flies over his new domain, and is reunited with old friends. The Aurora Project prepares to face its future in the past.