Richard J. Sutcliffe - Worlds of the Timestream - Interregnum 01

Worlds of the Timestream:

The Interregnum: The Peace

by Rick Sutcliffe

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Post Prologue

It is impossible to tell the story of the nexus of 2001 without referring back to the earlier “great” or

“long” nexus, whose course spanned the first thousand years of our Lord, from 29 to 1014. Its bookend

events profoundly affected world history, as can readily be seen by comparing the two resulting earths.

However, such history, and that of the Irish dynasties who ruled our world until 1941, has been well

combed. Much less attention has been devoted to the years of the interregnum, and it is to these that the

current work is addressed.

This chronicle has been created by searching transcripts of news accounts, interviews with survivors, and

several electronic memoirs. Some conversations have been fictionalized, but many are reported by bards

who witnessed them or to whom they were recited, and must be taken as authentic. Thus, the narrative

before the reader is not fiction woven around a few threads of history, but a tapestry of scenes from

actual lives of real people. Only the connecting arrangement is artificial, representing an attempt on the

editors’ part to participate in other than dry textbooks. If this is well received, the entire story will one

day be told likewise, though the principal author/editor of the volumes will vary.

Also, with the help of the Professor, this series represents a departure from long standing policy in that it

will be offered for publication on his world as well. There, it will indeed be taken as fiction, but the

general editors trust it will serve to prepare the ground for eventually revealing there are more earths, and

with very different histories than theirs.

This first volume cycles among three related stories:

1. The 1941 rise to power and deposition of High King James IV, with the subsequent history of the

four royal cousins to 1958,

2. The origin on Tirdia (Prime, per Metan scholars) of Sally O'Neill and Lucy O'Brien, their involvement

with and marriage into the royal family in 1945 and following events through 1955,

3. An account of Brian McIlhargey and his wards Meghan (Mara) and Karen from the 1977 battle of

Glenmorgan through to their departure from Edwardston in 1990.

To assist the reader, each chapter is clearly tagged with names, dates, and places (including the earth) to

indicate which of the three story cycle arcs is in view. All ofThe Peace takes place on Hibernia and

Tirdia, but readers should note when reading chapter tags that from the sixteenth century until the nexus

of 2001 the Hibernian and Gregorian calendars were identical, so dates used in ThePeace are the same

on both earths. In this edition, to securely establish the initial settings in readers’ minds, the first

six-chapter rotation through the three plots has two successive chapters from each arc. After that, action

rotates among the three plots in less predictable fashion.

These chronicles could not have been completed without the assistance of Physician-Colonel Maeve

Derry of City Hospital, Tara, whose explanation of medical terms and practices was invaluable.

Offered in the Name of the High Lord of Heaven

Under the Patronage of the crown

Dedicated to the Throne of Tara, Mistress of Worlds

by General Editors

Richard Kent, Academician and Lord Protector of England

Jana Whelan, Ard Seanacha of the Court of Ireland

Walking Buffalo, Academician and Lord Holder of Edwardston

Cameron O'Grady, Lord High Bishop of Tara

and

Princess Rainbow Buffalo/O'Grady, Seanacha,

who compiled this first volume.

Worlds Of The Timestream

From: A Guide For Federation Security Agents

by Patrick O'Toole

Tara, The King's Library, 1941 (rev 2002)

The Timestreamis a spatio-temporal medium providing access to at least six known versions of planet

Earth arranged in hexagonal fashion. Each has different histories and societies, some different geologies,

but all have the same physical laws and chronology. Travel from one planet is via timestream vehicles

developed by scientists of the Federated Earths (Hibernia and Babylon) from specifications transmitted

by the Metans in 1792. At critical historical points (nexi) on one of the planets, some crucial decision(s)

results in two earths, with the same prior history, but differing subsequent ones. Major events on

neighbouring planets in the timestream affect each other strongly, but not necessarily symmetrically.

Notes:

1 All but those of Water World also call their planet “Earth".

2 Tirdia: introduced by patriotic Hibernians who objected to “Prime".

3 Constitutionally, Hibernia or Ortho earth is “Greater Ireland".

4 The continents of Tirdia, Hibernia, Para, and Desert are similar.

* member of the Federation of Worlds

Planets:

Tirdia (called Terra by its peoples, and Prime by Metans) is thought by scholars to be the original planet

Earth from which others subsequently divided. It has more people than the others combined. The names

Prime and Tirdia (God's world) are both due to it being the location of Christ's crucifixion. Since 1912,

Tirdia has been the locus of major events affecting its timestream neighbours of Water World and Ortho

(e.g., The Three Worlds’ War of 1939-1945 was centred there.)

Capital: London and New York are leading financial centres.

Currency: Many, though the American dollar is commonly accepted.

Language: Numerous, though English is widely spoken.

Government: Various forms, many nominally democratic.

Population: 6.1 billion.

Hibernia(Greater Ireland, or, per scholars, Ortho) divided from Tirdia in the long nexus, beginning at

the crucifixion, and concluding with the Battle of Clontarf in 1014. From that point, Hibernia's Ireland

became a stable kingdom, eventually making herself mistress of the entire planet, and, using Metan

technology, later becoming the administrative centre of her Federation with partner Para.

Capital: Tara.

Currency: Shamrock.

Language: (Ortho)Gaelic.

Government: Constitutional Monarchy.

Population: 300 million.

Motto: H.E.I.O.U. (Hiberniae est imperare orbi universo, i.e., Hibernia is ruler over the whole world.)

Meta(Builder's World) divided from Tirdia in the first nexus shortly after Adam and Eve were driven

from the garden. Has one continental land mass, mostly agricultural excepting one small city. Meta

manages the worlds of the timestream to prevent the Enemy (Satan) from having free rein.

Capital: Builder's City ("The City").

Currency: Credit. (electronic only; uses no cash).

Language: Metan.

Government: A council of elders chaired by the Builder.

Population: 28 million.

Babylon(also called Para or The Corporation) Formed when Balshazzar repented. Babylon is the

scientific and technological centre of the two-planet Federation (with Hibernia), both of which had their

industrial revolutions well before Tirdia. The economy is controlled by large corporations whose CEOs

form the planetary government.

Capital: Babylon; Hibernia's Tara for Federation business.

Currency: Terebinth.

Languages: Persian and Gaelic.

Government: A board of directors.

Population: 280 million.

Desert(so-called because of the vast radioactive wastelands covering Europe, Africa, and the Middle

East) originated in a nexus with Water World a few generations after Noah's flood. Early scientific and

technological advances led to nuclear war, and today the planet is thinly populated by nomadic tribes

only in the Americas and Asia.

Capital: Desert has no cities and few permanent towns.

Currency: Precious metal coinage and barter.

Language: Numerous; both continents have a trade language.

Government: elected warrior chieftains.

Population: (Est.) ten million.

Water World(or, Ocean) has no continents, just numerous scattered islands. It was formed at the time

of Noah's flood, which was a greater disaster there than on the other two worlds of its time. Its two

nations of Pacifica and Atlantica consist of several thousand confederated islands, each supporting one or

more merchant/warships. These and the League of Corsairs (pirates) live in a semi-permanent state of

warfare. Events of recent history have been strongly influenced by timestream neighbour Tirdia.

Capital: No fixed locations.

Currency: Precious metal coinage and barter.

Language: “The tongue” is universally spoken.

Government: Three councils of ship captains.

Population: 90 million.

Editors’ Note: In the first several volumes ofThe Interregnum the principal events take place on

Hibernia (Ortho) with some on Tirdia (Prime), some on Meta and single chapters on Babylon (Para) and

Desert. Our history does not touch upon Water World until later volumes.

That the members of Hibernia's hereditary nobility have for centuries acted as guardians of her

throne at Tara is well known to anyone who paid attention to Irish history lessons in third grade.

That they reserve the throne exclusively for themselves is less obvious—many a talented,

strapping lad has gone to court thinking he could claim it, only to be thwarted by the surprising

development of the normally fractious nobility cooperating against him. Because the ruling

monarchs have since 1791 surrendered their clan names, it is not always obvious that the green

chair has been occupied by a single family ever since the Federation of Worlds was founded. It

may be that this “gentle agreement” was reached solely to avoid the embarrassment of the

nobility killing itself off entirely with its notorious infighting.

Such matters are only politely discussed privately among the high lords and ladies, or here at Kilkarney,

where their best and brightest are sent, ostensibly to train as military officers. Get used to being candid

for four years, for at Kilkarney you are on sacred ground. You may say anything to each other, but are

not permitted to kill students or staff. After you graduate, it is the other way around, for none of us are

under any illusions that the “noble” among you have actually come to prepare for the polite but much

more deadly power games your families play with each other. Or have the lessons of 1941 been lost on

you?

—selected from the commander's commencement address to the entering class of 1964, Kilkarney

cadet school.

Chapter One

Tara's palace, Ireland, September 1941 (Hibernia)

“The time for kings has passed.” Donal Tobin began his seditious speech to the other lords quietly,

carefully mixing patriotic rhetoric and history lessons in a mind-dulling recipe. “From the establishment in

1014 to 1792, ten different families ruled Ireland. Yes, the current dynasty has occupied the green throne

for a century and a half, but a change now would generate a mere footnote in Ireland's rich and glorious

history. And, I assure you that when our ancestors established the Peace of Ireland following the great

European wars, they scarcely imagined Tara's rulers would ascend to world dominion, mastering two

earths and accumulating interests on three others. They did not set out to invest a monarchy with such

concentrated power, enormous influence, and potential for corruption.”

The conspirator sat in his study, “scarcely fifty staves from the court chambers, as the buzzards fly", he

was fond of saying. The court scene unfolded in one part of his MT wall screen, as he scrolled a text

window beside it. “Following the script, are you, friend Donal? Good. Let's keep the lies predictable,

shall we?”

Ending the Irish monarchy was neither a pleasant nor a safe prospect, but better than any alternative. He

could easily die in his coup, but there was no going back now.

“Oh, Lord of Heaven,” he gazed toward the ceiling in appeal, “People will say I've prolonged our own

version of the Three Worlds’ War, even betrayed the realm. But you know I've not my own interests at

heart, only Ireland's. I'm in your hands, for life or death. Lord, I may have done wrong manipulating

Donal, but he'll merely get the power he wants.”

“It has been,” Donal Tobin's voice droned at the periphery of his attention, “one hundred fifty-two years

since the elusive Metans gave us the technical ability to travel among five of the six earths, excepting only

Meta herself. The Federation of Ortho and Para, under the rule of our glorious capital here at Tara, is

almost as old. It's time a fresh breeze blew through these ancient halls, time to set aside the rule of

despots, incompetents, and drunkards, time to take the reins of power into our own hands for the good

of all Hibernia. Henceforth, let this house reign collectively.” He swept his arm about to include his

audience.

“The fighting in Europe and Asia has dragged on far too long. Ireland needs fresh initiatives, fresh

leadership, fresh vision to put an end to this interminable war.”

“Ah, yes, the war,” mused the conspirator to his empty office. “Some argue we Irish merely play our

favourite game.” He wagged his finger at Tobin's image. “You and your MacCarthy allies believe Ireland

lacks the will to fight hard enough. You forget the savage conflict on the earth next to ours, how it leaks

through the timestream to adjacent worlds, also producing a war much like ours on Water World, the

other side of Tirdia.”

A group of junior officers had agreed too enthusiastically with his argument, and he'd had to stop the

hotheads from assassinating Tirdia's Hitler and Hirohito.

“Perhaps,” he thought, “we could have achieved the side effect of an earlier end to our war if we'd

stopped Tirdia's fighting.” But the last thing Hibernia needed was a failed intervention resulting in Tirdia

discovering the other worlds. “We could all be overwhelmed by the multitudes of a planet whose people

apparently have nothing to do but breed,” he reflected. “Perhaps that's one reason the Metans call the

place Prime. It has more people than four other earths combined.”

The conspirator spoke toward a microphone. “MT, open new window, public file James Fourth.” He

ignored Donal Tobin's speech, to review for perhaps the hundredth time his carefully assembled dossier

on the young king whom the nobles were about to dethrone.

“James, second son of James, son of Conn. Born 1917, fostered out to Barry and Millicent Devereaux

of New Tara. Entered Kilkarney 1934 on a full scholarship, graduated 1938 as first cadet. Returned to

Irish North America in the king's service, promoted to captain 1940, and to major, 1941.”

Little else than well-known and well-polished facts, the conspirator thought. Access to a palace network

node and skills few would advertise were required to reduce a reigning monarch's personal information to

such bare bones. He'd also been responsible for most of the lies in Donal Tobin's somewhat larger file on

the King. “But it's not what Donal Tobin thinks he knows that could get people killed today,” the

conspirator mused. “It's what is not in this file...”

* * * *

James, April 1941, Irish North America

“Going somewhere, Major?”

James whirled from packing his backsack. His hand was halfway to his sword at the unexpected

interruption when he suddenly realized who his visitor was. “Your Highness, I...”

“Cut the guff, James. Brace my arm instead. It wasn't too jolly when you found out, but I've rather

enjoyed having another brother. You never knew Conn,” reflected his visitor, suddenly pensive, but

moving the conversation along rapidly. “He died at four. Matthew has his heart set on bardic orders.

Daisy is still too young to know what she wants besides her own horse. But we two are the family

warriors. There need be no formality between us.”

James relented, and the two locked right arms, testing each others’ strength. As they relaxed, William

casually observed, “You're more like Dad than ever. Why not become King instead of me?”

James started in surprise, and William added, “If you weren't Dad's secret insurance policy, I'd trade

places in a heartbeat. Tara's palace is a dreary place compared to an army camp. This is where

Hibernia's true heart beats.”

James forced himself to relax before the force of William's good humour. Fostering out a second son to

have him raised in obscurity wasn't merely custom, but a necessary security measure in fractious Ireland.

Even when his foster parents were killed in a riot during his second year at Kilkarney, the elder and

younger James were never together. William was instead informed of the relationship, and dispatched to

the school with the news. He had visited many times since, becoming a friend as well as a brother, though

James had rarely been to Tara.

James shook himself. “What brings you, William?”

“The high command needed to send a ceremonial bigshot. Dad's managing risk by working out of the

country estate. His actor only stands in for routine ribbon cuttings, so I volunteered to chuck palace life

for a week.”

James raised his eyebrows. “Have there been enemy threats?”

“Nothing so tangible, and he wouldn't worry about the Germans or Japanese. No, he's staying out of

circulation till he's ruined the latest domestic plot.”

James nodded grimly. Ireland's “loyal” nobles were notorious for such schemes. He reverted to

William's initial greeting. “Just as well you spend some time on the field, but you've forgotten I'm only a

captain, not a major.”

“Not to the high command. You and ten soldiers standing off three hundred Apache at the Alamo until

the rest of the army got there made interesting reading from General Ryan's dispatches.” William fished a

small box from his pouch. “They sent this trinket along with your new stripes. Presentation's tomorrow.”

He held it out with a grin, and flipped the lid open.

James gasped, then shook his head. “The Medal of Honour. I can't accept that.” Ireland's highest award

hadn't been given for nearly two decades.

“Thought you'd say that.” William laughed, and took a seat on a canvas chair. “Two nights ago Tara

News editorialized, and I quote, ‘Not content with ranking first sword of the army, James Devereaux has

now taken his place in the ranks of Ireland's great heroes.’ Meanwhile, the high command thinks you've

single-handedly turned around the North American theatre. The way things are elsewhere, Ireland needs

her heroes. I'm here to ensure she gets one, and no argument.”

“None of it matters.” James turned bleakly to the sack he'd been packing.

“Why not?” William's smile faded.

“Got a report from one of my sergeants that an entire Cree village is dead.” James held out a photo. “I

need samples, but it looks like smallpox.”

William gasped. “Only the great houses have access...”

“Exactly. One of Ireland's lords schemes to shorten the war by wiping out the North American natives.”

“But we can't win dishonourably. Our allies would turn against us. Hibernia would fall apart.” William

paused briefly, then pocketed the jewel box. “Got an extra isolation suit?”

* * * *

Two hours later, James trudged back up the hill where he'd left William on guard. The village of Jumping

Pond and its dead were two hundred staves behind and below. He stopped for William to hose him

down with disinfectant, stepped from the isolation suit, tossed it onto the fire, accepted another spray on

his bare skin, dried himself, then donned his clothes and hefted the sample box.

“Almost certainly smallpox,” he announced grimly, as the two walked to the crest, “but genetically

engineered to be fast acting. Some died walking down the street or in the midst of a meal. I'll wager it

spreads over the whole continent in days.”

“What now?”

James glanced at the box in his hand. “By the book, we send these to Tara for analysis.”

“By the time they could act,” William observed quietly, “the whole world will know. The political

fallout...”

James gripped William's arm. “Running Bear's daughter was here visiting her aunt.”

His brother whistled. “When the Stoney chief finds out, he and our few North American allies will

desert. We'll have to pull troops from Europe to contain the mess.”

“Not necessarily.”

“What have you in mind?”

“I've prayed about it, William. In what wisdom the Lord of Heaven gives, I believe there's only one way

to get an antidote into the field in time.”

“That is?”

“We both have our MCs.” He waited for William to draw his own conclusion.

“Cut Tara Medical out of the picture and re-engineer the virus ourselves? Messing with pathogens

without a vote of the lords means breaking the covenant, brother of mine.”

“You don't have to join me, William, but surely if banned techniques are employed to do good, or to

stop evil, they're legitimately from God, and must be used, despite the law. There's little choice but to act

at once.”

Just then, they crested the hill, and James saw five bodies lying in a tangle of swords and blood. He

turned to William, astonished.

“Who?”

“Low thugs.” William waved his dismissal. “Walked into the clearing chatting about ambushing you. I

killed them all, unfortunately. No papers, but all European.” His manner was almost casual, but James

detected a quaver in his brother's voice. An honourable man disliked killing, even when it was necessary.

“Do we leave them?”

“Might as well keep whoever sent them guessing. Look. I've pulled rank on a few calls I made while you

were below. The ceremonies are postponed. I've booked New Tara hospital's synthesizer. An air car

picks us up between here and the camp in ten minutes and takes us directly there. Security will guard this

place till we're done, then burn it.”

James looked at William in awe. “I didn't need to persuade you.”

William shrugged. “We're family. We think alike.”

* * * *

Tara's palace, September 1941

And, thought the conspirator, drumming his fingers on the richly-polished desk, the royal brothers won

the gamble few would ever know they had taken. They built a virus-vectored countermeasure, then

arranged for its distribution throughout the continent with secret cooperation from enemy chiefs. Doing it

compromised Irish security, but stopped the plague with only three communities lost.

Within weeks, a quiet telegraph had spread the news of their involvement, and though the reason was

never spoken aloud to Europeans, the North American rebellion suddenly collapsed, all twenty nations of

the enemy Blackfoot coalition re-entering the Peace on terms negotiated between them and the Stoney

chief who headed the allied nations. The document was signed by William for the crown. Whoever stole

the smallpox samples from the national lab and altered them would know how the plague was stopped,

but not by whom.

“Family Monde started this,” mused the conspirator, “but I'll never prove it.”

But fortune had not smiled so kindly on the royals two months after.

* * * *

James, June 1941, Irish North America and Tara

“Sir, General Ryan to see you.” The sergeant was in a near panic, and no wonder. Generals summoned

majors; they didn't visit them unless the news was extraordinary, and even the unusual would get soldiers

killed.

“General.” James snapped a salute as his commander entered the tent, receiving one in return.

“Sergeant, see we're not disturbed. Stand easy, Major.” Ryan activated a white noise generator.

“Good,” thought James, relaxing. “It's military business, after all.” Perhaps, as others already, he was

being transferred to the European front.

“I take it,” began Ryan, picking over his words gingerly, “you haven't had the news from Tara.”

“No.” James was baffled. Was the war over? But if so, why this? He willed the general to get to the

point.

“I'm family,” observed Ryan, taking him by the shoulders and looking his young officer squarely in the

eye.

James started. “You know?”

“That you were fostered at birth to my sister-in-law's brother-in-law Barry Devereaux, but are by birth

the king's son, and my wife Carole's nephew? I was your godfather. You came to New Tara in my

arms.” Suddenly, the general's eyes brimmed over with tears, and he no longer needed speech.

“It's the King,” James suddenly concluded. “What happened?”

Ryan bowed his head, forcing his words. “A force of two hundred invaded the palace early this morning.

James III died defending your mother, then they killed her. Apart from two kitchen servants, there were

no survivors. None of the invaders was taken alive.”

“Matthew and Daisy?”

“I'm sorry, lad.”

His voice became a squeak. “Then William is King.”

“William slept in the palace after a late-night meeting with the King. He took fifteen with him, but he is

gone, too.”

There was a long silence while James stood immobile with shock and the general gathered his thoughts.

“I hate to do this to you, James, but you have duties. Patrick O'Toole advises that Calaghan MacCarthy

and Gerald Monde will proclaim the dynasty's end, then send in the court's name to the high armoury for

the means to ‘end the war once and for all,’ as they put it.”

“They would use atomics? Ireland would be dishonoured forever.” Shaken back to a measure of

rationality, James observed, “Only the King may enter the high armoury. Doing so requires a DNA match

and codes known only to the high command.”

“There is an override provision, requiring a second code set assembled from among the bards, the

church, and Lord Chamberlain. It will take them a day to arrange, no more.” Reilly held out a black

Richard J. Sutcliffe - Worlds of the Timestream - Interregnum 01 - The Peace

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