Выбрать главу

Menzies stared out of the window as they passed a soup kitchen. “What’s that?”

“We’re still on rationing here,” Grisham said grimly. “We now have a fairly decent supply of food from Ireland and America – paid for by some of our technology – and we’re improving our own production, but for the moment the Government has decreed that rationing will take the place of the welfare state.”

She grinned. “I quite approve of it myself,” she said. “The wastrels are starting to flow into the army, or into one of the expanding businesses, and even the navy is getting its share. Even criminals are contributing to the greater good, for once.”

Menzies kept his own counsel as the Rolls Royce – that wasn’t too different – drew up outside Ten Downing Street. The security guards checked their identities and welcomed them into the building, leading them into the meeting room.

Ten Downing Street

London, United Kingdom

24th August 1940

“Good afternoon, Gentlemen,” Hanover said. The men looking back at him seemed stunned; only a handful of them mumbled a greeting in return.

“I trust that you are now convinced that this is not some elaborate practical joke,” Hanover continued. “Quite apart from seeing our aircraft and our cities, you have also seen the future; histories of yourselves, your counties, and the world. Some of you developed into very different states, some of you became disaster areas, and some of you became… well, saints.”

He looked down at the small Indian man sitting next to Lord Linlithgow, who’d been horrified at the instruction to bring the three main leaders of India with him. Even at such an important meeting, Gandhi wore only a robe and loincloth, greeting all protests with a puckish smile.

“History has spoken on all of you,” he continued. “It is up to you to see if you want it to speak well of you again, or if you want it to speak well of you in the new future created by our arrival. I won’t lie to you; many dark and difficult days lie ahead, but if we work together we can create a better world for us all.

“The British Empire is dead,” he said, and watched the reactions. The three Indians looked pleased, then worried, then concerned. The South African, Prime Minister Jan Smuts, looked as if he didn’t care. News of the Apartheid Era and the collapse of South Africa in 2012 had hit him badly. The Canadian, Prime Minister William Lyon Mackenzie King, seemed unconcerned; his main interest had been in learning about the coming Quebecois Independence Movement. The Australian and the New Zealander, Peter Fraser, seemed almost panicked. The handful of Contemporary personnel in the room seemed shocked; few of them had understood the growing weakness of the empire.

“Your Congress Party wants independence,” Hanover said, addressing the three Indians; Nehru, Jinnah and Gandhi. “If that’s what you want, including the civil war that is bound to break out as soon as the troops are withdrawn, you can have it. However…”

“You would leave us at the mercy of Hindus forever?” Jinnah asked. He’d been a lawyer before taking up the cause of Muslim independence; he’d moved at once to the most important question. “While I support the creation of a Muslim nation, I cannot see one forming that is even as successful as this… Pakistan I seem to have created.”

“Does that not prove our point; a united India is required?” Nehru asked. It was an old argument between the two parties. “Think of how much we could achieve together?”

“There are millions of your… descendents in Britain today who would be more than willing to help you fast-forward your own technology,” Hanover said. “What you need is a constitution and a united army – and genuine rights for everyone, be they Hindu, Muslim, high-caste, low-caste, untouchable, whatever. We will try to help you, but that would rely upon you helping us as well.”

“Ah, the empire returns,” Gandhi said. His wry voice didn’t quite hide the scorn. “You will give us formal independence, but pull the strings from behind?”

“No,” Hanover said. “Quite frankly; I would prefer to let you go to heaven or hell without our involvement. I do, however, have to look to the future; a democratic India, united and strong, would be a strong ally. As a member of the British Commonwealth, you would enjoy equal voting rights with the other nations and…”

Smuts’ clipped accent overrode him. “I cannot see my countrymen being too impressed with the version of the future when kaffars take control and ride the nation down into ruin,” he said. “I fail to see why we should place our destiny in your hands.”

“For a start, the British Commonwealth would primarily be a trading and mutual defence pact, nothing else,” Hanover said. “I would advise you to begin granting voting rights to educated black men, and at the same time prevent the shocking expansion of their population caused by poverty. The same applies to India; your population explodes – exploded – beyond your ability to absorb it.

“The first thing we can offer you is AS-01 and AS-02,” he said. “They are essentially permanent birth control drugs; one injection convinces the man’s body to stop producing sperm – although emission is still possible – and the other convinces a woman’s body to treat sperm as a hostile intruder and destroy it. Naturally, a counter-drug exists; it could be used if necessary.”

He smiled, noticing Smuts’ eager grin. The South African would probably act like the Chinese Government had done when they’d invented the drug; massive and forcible injection programs for all of their citizens. They’d actually managed to half the Chinese growth rate in three years.

“That is merely the tip of the iceberg,” he said calmly. “We can give you advanced nuclear power plants that will provide cheap, safe electricity for your counties. We can give you water-cracking plants that will provide an endless source of clean water for your farms; Australia could become the breadbasket of the Far East. We will give you hydrogen cars that will wipe out your dependence on oil forever and…

“There are so many things we can give you, should you join us,” he concluded. “We have reserved rooms for you in the Ritz; some of you will find it very different than it was in your time. You also have access to communications channels reaching all the way to your countries; use them to consult with your allies and governments if necessary. There is, however, one other thing I wish to show you.”

He picked up a remote control and flicked it once. The big screen flickered and activated, displaying a perfect movie. Some of the delegates retched as the images became clear; the Germans and Soviets were… exterminating the Poles.

“This image was recorded by an SAS team that had been inserted into Poland to contact the Polish Resistance,” Hanover said, his voice darkening. “As you can see, the resistance no longer exists; the Germans and Soviets have been engaged in rounding up, press-ganging and slaughtering the Poles. In the future, the Poles will rise against the Soviet Empire – and Stalin is clearly determined never to let that happen again.

“The Germans have already purged their own ranks of anyone with the courage, in the original timeline, to stand up against Hitler, sometimes even before they had doubts about the Nazi regime. For the moment, the war has stalemated, but we cannot allow it to remain that way indefinitely. Sooner or later, Hitler and his goons will develop a working atomic weapon, and then they might well be unbeatable.”

He ran the second video display. “This is the destruction of a Russian city, during the War on Terror,” he said. “The Chechens deployed a nuke into Volgograd – Stalingrad today – and destroyed the entire city. Nearly a million people died; tens of thousands of residents, Russian soldiers, tourists, reporters, what-have-you… they all died.”