The Map of the Sky (Trilogía Victoriana #2)(140)

“Of course, Claire, of course he came here for love of you,” I said. “But we mustn’t forget that Captain Shackleton is a hero, and now more than ever a hero is what we need.”

“I’m grateful for your belief in me, Mr. Winslow, but as I already said, one man alone can do nothing in this situation,” said Shackleton.

“But you aren’t just any man, Captain,” I countered. “You’re a hero!”

Shackleton sighed and shook his head. His modesty surprised me. I looked around at the others for the support I was sure they would give but was disappointed to find that Shackleton’s reason for being here was apparently not as clear to the others as it was to me. The servants gaped at me, visibly overwhelmed by the rapid sequence of impossible events: the Martian invasion, the defeat of the mighty empire, the presence in their parlor of a hero from the future, who according to our calendar had not yet even been born. They were dumbfounded by it all, but then I had expected nothing more from these simple minds. I felt much more let down by my wife Victoria, who wore an expression of weary resignation, as if to say that even a Martian invasion was less bothersome than having to put up with her husband’s eccentricities. And what about my cousin Andrew and his charming wife Madeleine? They looked utterly bewildered, incapable of backing me up in any way. Was there no one in that room who could see what I saw? I turned to Shackleton once more, in despair.

“Captain, I’ve seen you fight a duel with the king of the automatons and win,” I insisted. “You’re the savior of the human race. And I can think of only one reason why you’re here: you have to save us once more.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t,” Shackleton protested, as though he found it difficult to take off his disguise and was still playing the part of a bank manager refusing one of his customers a loan.

“Of course you can!” I exclaimed. I turned to my cousin for support. “Can you honestly say I’m wrong, Andrew? We both saw him kill Solomon. And now he’s here among us, exactly when we need him most. Do you honestly believe that’s a coincidence, Andrew? Say something, damn it!”

“I . . . ,” my cousin replied, confused, “I don’t quite understand what it is you’re asking of Mr. Peachey . . . I mean Captain Shackleton . . .”

“Your cousin is right, Mr. Winslow,” the captain said. “I wasn’t alone when I defeated Solomon. I had my men with me. I had powerful weapons, I had—”

“Well, then, we’ll travel to the year 2000 and get them,” I proposed. “Yes, that’s it, we’ll travel to the future and bring back your weapons and your men. They’ll fight with you to the death, and we’ll destroy these accursed Martians—”

“How?” Shackleton asked, breaking off my harangue in midstream. “How do you expect us to travel to the future?”

I looked at him, bewildered.

“I don’t know . . . ,” I admitted, “I assumed . . . How did you get here, Captain?”

“That’s the problem, Charles,” Claire intervened. “Derek came here in a machine that was later destroyed.”

I was surprised. I didn’t know any other time machine existed apart from the Cronotilus, although I should have realized that such a thing was highly likely in the future from which Captain Shackleton hailed. In any event, if what Claire said was true, and his machine had been destroyed, we would not be able to use it. That left only one way for us to get there.

“We’ll go to Murray’s Time Travel and take the Cronotilus to the year 2000,” I explained triumphantly.

“But Murray’s Time Travel closed two years ago, Mr. Winslow, after Gilliam Murray’s death,” Shackleton reminded me.

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” I replied, “but what do you think happened to the hole leading to the fourth dimension and the year 2000? Is it still open?”

“I doubt it,” Shackleton said with a conviction that took me by surprise.

I gazed at the captain fixedly, wondering how to get around his objections.

“Well, I think it is. And I’m convinced we will be able to use it to travel to the future. Don’t you see it has to be this way? There is no trace of the Martians in your future, which must mean that at some point, somehow, we will defeat them. Otherwise none of us here would have been able to glimpse that future.” I glanced around me once more and thought I saw a flash of comprehension on my cousin’s face, and that of Madeleine, and even of Harold and a few of the other servants. I felt encouraged to speak even more heatedly. “We’ll go to Murray’s Time Travel, travel to the future, and defeat the Martians. And do you know why? Because we’ve already done it!”

“But we can’t be sure my intervention will be what stops the invasion,” Shackleton replied stubbornly. “It could be one of our allies coming to our aid, or anything.”

The captain looked around, seeking the approval of his audience, but his words died in the growing buzz of admiration. My heartening speech and my simple explanation of the complicated matter had stirred them more than the captain’s shilly-shallying. A few of the servants approached him, mesmerized: standing in their parlor was the man who would save the human race from extinction after first defeating the Martians and destroying the powerful machines that were razing the city of their birth.