— In the thick of battle, their Battalion commander is killed. Jack has to take over. —
“Blue one. Now listen to me real good. We have never got on too well, but this time I need you to excel yourself. You need to forget all the crap and do better than you ever did. If not, we’re all dead.” “Right red one. Got it.” “Get your ass up here. You will be leading the assault on the Panther, but I’ll need to get it all straight with you first.” “You staying there then?” “We ain’t goin’ anywhere. We have only one track. Okay, everyone stay on the radio and alert. The way I see this, the gun at the end of this road is the strong point, not the farmhouse, although that’s where their defensive line is. If we can force it to move, their whole defence will collapse. Only problem is, I can’t see it. It’s about 1000 yards to a turn, with trees beyond. It must be in the trees. Anyways, we’ll find out, but I’m betting it’s a Tiger.” “Why’s that, red one?” blue one asked. “Two reasons. First, if it’s an eighty-eight, why would any commander put a Panther in such an isolated position? It’s the best thing he’s got. On the other hand, if he’s got a Tiger, and he’s SS, he might rather risk the Panther than his own skin. It has better protection.” “If it’s a tiger. It could be another Panther.” “We’ll find out. Everyone stay on your radios and stay alert. Red one over.” Jack turned the transmitter to ‘intercom:’ “Okay, listen up guys. Sprouts, see if you can fix the tracks. But before you do that, tell me what shell that was that hit red two. Okay?” “Sure skip.” “Lucky, you’re no use in here for now. Help Sprouts. Mickey, keep a bead on that Panther. If you see him, take a shot. Let’s hope it’s an early one. Aim at the base of the turret. That’s its only real weakness. Deak, scan all radio frequencies. See if you can pick up any German. You speak a little of the lingo, so maybe we can learn something.”
— Jack doesn’t like the road ahead. He calls for the column to halt but a moment later, things get hairy. —
As Carla rumbled over the bridge Jack yelled: “Stop!” “What is it Jack?” Sprouts yelled back, when the tank had stopped. “I don’t like it,” Jack replied. “It’s too quiet. No horses, no cows, no cars or wagons, no birds. Pull over Lucky! Get on the radi-…” A flash of light caught his eye, straight ahead. He ducked, slamming the hatch closed and yelling, “Incomin- … !” The tank rocked with the impact of an armour penetrating round. Everybody’s eyes closed, expecting their life to be snuffed out. A moment later they heard a ‘clang’ some way behind Carla, an explosion to their right, and the tank stopped rocking. “What the fuck happened!” somebody yelled. “Turn the tank Lucky!” Jack yelled. The crew was as well-oiled as any crew in the US Army, so Lucky responded without thinking. The tank began to pirouette to the right, Lucky reversing one set of tracks and pushing the other forward as hard as he could. “What the hell are you doin’?” Sprouts yelled. Carla had almost turned round completely when they heard the whistle of another incoming round. An instant later, they were rocked again, but during that instant, Lucky had stamped on the throttle pedal and the tank had lurched ahead about six feet. Something smashed into the rear, right corner of the tank and explode, sending hot shards of metal into the main compartment. None hit the men. Carla continued to roll forward.
— Dawn. Pressburger briefs the tank commanders before the tanks begin to roll into Czechoslovakia. —
Dawn didn’t so much break, as inveigle its way into the darkness. Thick fog caused drops of ice cold water to drip off everything, soaking the Sherman engines’ spark plugs and making them reluctant to start. But now the steady rumble of the V8s in the gaseous Hades between silent trees added a hypnotic quality, which soothed the crews. The pre-dawn briefing didn’t start well for Jack: “Merriweather, that’s the third time you have gone AWOL under my command,” Pressburger bellowed, throwing down a wad of maps. “If you weren’t the best tank crew I have, you would be up for Courts Marshal. Just once more and … .” He left the consequences hanging. Jack noticed the tent canvas seem to shimmer, as if it wasn’t quite there. Then he found he couldn’t remember what the man had just been saying to him. “You listening to me Merriweather?” “Yes sir.” The other five tank commanders, the last left in the 4th Armored Division’s 51st Armored Infantry Battalion, glanced at Jack, but he stared ahead, stone-faced. “Now, down to business,” Pressburger continued. He rolled out a large map on a table and stuck his finger onto a black spider. “This here, is Pilsen. That’s where we’re going. Patton just got the go-ahead from Eisenhower and Bradley to invade Czechoslovakia. But we’re not to go beyond Pilsen. Why Pilsen?”
— Spring, 1947. Jack goes AWOL and gets up to his old tricks. Their Sherman tank, Carla , takes a break. —
“Don’t move!” Tom whispered in German, while holding his knife blade to the girl’s throat. “But my brother will hear us!” she hissed back, struggling to escape his grip. Tom squeezed her neck so tightly that she couldn’t breathe properly and her voice rasped. “You know what I want?” he murmured. “Yes. I won’t struggle or scream, if you let me go.” He felt her tremble, but also the sound of effort in her voice, as if she were trying to hold back an urge that he knew all women couldn’t resist. It excited him. The day had started quietly: “All crews to stay in bunks, and that is an order! O-ffi-cial blanket drill!” Above the moans of the four tank crews in the tent, the corporal continued under his breath, “Scuttlebutt is; the next is the last action. After that, it’s home to your sweet-hearts fellas!” “Brindley, you ninety-day wonder,” somebody shouted. “Why the fuck didn’t you let us get an extra hour instead of waking us then? Asshole!” “You know what that means? No battle breakfast!” shouted somebody else. “Sheet!” Deak added. “K–rations! That means biscuits and black coffee! Hardly ambrosia for the gods of death, is it?” When they finally staggered out of the tent in their camp near ten miles from the Czech border, Lieutenant Tom “Jack,” Mayflower-Merriweather finished shaving and waited for his crew.
— Om and the Palace Guards are led across the rooftops by a grubby street urchin. —
“Mehy! There’s a rebellion. Menkhaf has barricaded himself in. We’re going across the rooftops.” “I’ve seen his soldiers. There are too many for you!” “Not if we stay beyond their reach.” “But you don’t know the way!” “And I suppose you regularly go across these roof tops?” “No. But I know somebody who has.” “Oh really? Remind me to lock him up after this is over!” “Okay. But can he help?” Om let out a long sigh, and replied, “Oh alright. But it has to be in the next few minutes. Where is he?” “Come here Fish!” A grubby face emerged from the shadow of a building. It reminded Om of somebody. “Lead us across the roofs to Menkhaf’s house!” Om whispered. The grubby face looked at Mehy, who nodded. The boy led them in single file down Palace Street, to the end of the row of houses set against the wall. Keeping to the shadows, they passed so silently that even the citizens in cots only a few cubits away didn’t hear them. The boy rounded the last corner and pointed to a vine. He began to climb. Mehy came up behind, followed by Om and Anen, who, because of his size, needed considerable pushes from the soldiers to reach the first roof. “Now where?” Om asked. “Follow me. Watch out for pots and washing lines. There are many! And a cat or two.”
There is a RIP in space and time. Om and Bri are trapped. All humanity; wiped out after seven cycles of destruction, Unless Om and Bri can unite to find the source of the rip.
A curtain of rainbow light shimmers and two people see their lives shift, in this tense, epic thriller. Om and Bri gradually become aware that they have met before – in previous lives. They begin to recall a mission that started with the discovery of Iron in ancient Atlantis. A gravitational rip was triggered by the Ischians, and water became impure, causing the gradual loss of memory and the Cup, a grail to hold the Holy blood of the first tree.
The blind Seer predicts that Earth’s health will never be restored until the Cup, the Holy Grail of legend, has been restored.
It’s their last life, their last chance. Om and Bri must find their way back through the rip to Atlantis, and to the cave where the last Val-yr, vampire priests, wait.
But the Cup needs a Key.
“Tolkien like epic with a touch of sci-fi.”
7 worlds. 7 lives. 7 chances for Om and Bri to save Earth.