Chapter 1 – Generator
It circulated through the news faster than wildfire – one of the Chiefs of Staff of the Krasnorussian Armed Forces, the governing body of the Autonomous State of Red Russia, or Krasnorussia, had been assassinated. The people were in a state of extreme panic, and with the White Imperialist enemy taking advantage of the chaos by launching a new offensive, things were not turning out for the better.
The remaining four members grieved at the loss of their fallen comrade, General Nikolai Sobakov of the Red Army, the Chairman of the Chiefs of Staff – but while they grieved, they planned as well. They planned to bring him back.
No military leader in the Red Army at the time was qualified to be elected to the position of Chairman, since the vast majority of the Armed Forces was now being called out to the front to defend the motherland against the Whites, who hadn’t been out in full force since several years ago. However, the one division that was available twenty-four-seven and inside the capital city at all times was the one that would be needed for this radical operation – the 1ST Red Electronic Warfare Division would be in charge of creating a device that would allow for either resurrection of the body (which could already be done, albeit with major disadvantageous side effects, by the Osiris Device.), or retrieval of the General through a time portal before the unfortunate assassination.
In charge of the project was a Dr. Vladimir Voronov, a senior member and an officer holding the rank of Captain in the Electronic Warfare Division, aside from his title of “doctor.” Voronov was a surprisingly rugged man for a scientist, having a rather robust body with dark red facial hair and thick-framed glasses. He looked more like an adventurous archaeologist than the computer geek that he actually was. Monitoring his progress would be Major Alexei Kazansky of the 1ST Red Chemical Warfare Battalion.
Voronov walked through the plain white hall, holding what looked like a little black box – which was actually a component vital to the operation of the device, called the “wormhole generator”. When Voronov approached a large steel door, he placed his free hand on the palm sensor, and waited for it to finish scanning. It gave a pleasant beeping sound and opened the door. Voronov continued walking at a brisk pace, as he was impatient to try out his device. This black box was the final piece of the device, and it could therefore be tested for the first time after its installation.
Voronov walked into the final room, a large control booth which was flashing with red and green lights on its dashboards. Major Kazansky was already inside, waiting for him.
“Good morning, doctor.” said the Major. “Glad to see you could make it on time. Will we be beginning the test?”
“Yes, Comrade Major. I just need to install the power source and then we can start running the device in the controlled environment.”
“Captain.”
“Yes, Major?”
“It’s just a tunnel. Nothing’s ‘controlled’ about a tunnel with a door in it.”
“Would you rather have it tested out in the open? Without the safety of the control room?”
“Touché, captain.”
“I’ll begin installation now. You may sit back and observe the test, Comrade Major.”
Kazansky grabbed a swivel chair and put his elbows on the arm rests. Voronov now sent down the black box through a chute that led to the equipment bay. The box would travel downwards, land in a padded containment cell, be removed by one of Kazansky’s chem troopers, and then be installed in the large device on the further end of the tunnel manually.
Once installed, the chem trooper gave the “ok” signal to Voronov via radio. Voronov in turn turned on the PA system and said, “All military and electronic warfare personnel, please vacate the test tunnel and move to your respective protection zones. The device will be activated shortly.”
Kazansky interrupted, “It better work, captain; for your sake.”
“I am confident of my own work, comrade major. I’m sure it will work with either little or no problems at all.”
Kazansky nodded, and looked towards the device – a very large machine with four robotic arm extensions radiating out from the center, with a disc-like attachment on each one’s hand.
Voronov continued, “Beginning phase one – arms in position. Control team A stand by.” Voronov then flipped a switch, and red lights on the sides of the machine were activated, while the robotic arms extended further outwards.
“Control team A here.” said a voice over the communication line. “No malfunctions to report, sir; continue with the operation.”
“Thank you, soldier.” Voronov mumbled, and continued with the procedure. “Initiating phase 2 – Control team B stand by… routing power to wormhole generator… power route successful. Control team B, activate the device, if you please.”
“Control team B here. Affirmative, comrade captain. Switching device status to active; bracing for impact.”
Suddenly, the room was filled with a loud buzzing noise, and the light inside the four robotic arms bent to form a black vortex which seemed to rip through the very fabric of reality itself.
“We’re good to go, comrade captain. We will continue to stand by for your orders.”
“Roger, Control team B. I’m setting the coordinates and the time before the assassination. Be ready to retrieve the chairman.”
“Roger that.”
“June 12, 2025 5:25pm… inputting coordinates of the Sugar Factory, Vladivostok, Primorsky Krai, Autonomous State of Krasnorussia… activating.”
A powerful blast of wind blew from the wormhole, throwing up forklifts and barrels into the air as if they were children’s toys. Then, something unexpected happened. First, it started with the date – June 12 became June 11, then June 10. The location was now being changed also; and then the year. The digital display was changing into random numbers and place names. Voronov broke into a cold sweat.
“Captain Voronov! What the hell is going on?” shouted Kazansky.
“I don’t know! It must be a technical error! Nothing major, Major Kazansky. I can fix it! I swear!”
“For your sake, you better!”
Then suddenly, something was hurled out of the gaping wormhole – but it wasn’t the chairman. A huge boulder came shooting out of the wormhole and crashed into the other end of the tunnel, creating a large dent.
“What the…” Kazansky trailed off, mouth hanging open in disbelief. It wasn’t the boulder, but the wide array of other objects that were being flung in after it. A prehistoric pine tree, a Roman column, a Viking oar, a medieval sword, some arrows, a human foot, some bones, and many other random objects kept shooting out of the wormhole in rapid succession.
“Voronov…” Kazansky said, mumbling.
“Yes, comrade major?”
“Get this fixed! Now!” He shouted.
“Yes, comrade major! I’m trying my best! All we need to do is get a fix on one location! If the computer keeps processing, it’ll –“
“Spare me the details, Voronov. Just do your job.”
The machine stopped briefly in the year 1198, in Ramallah, Israel. “I think I’ve fixed it!” Voronov said with glee. But the doctor apparently spoke too soon – because something else flew out of the wormhole, and the numbers and names started rolling again. It was a medieval Turk, dressed in green robes and bronze armor, with a green sand mask over his face. He was also armed, with two scimitars – Arabian swords, used for slashing. He tumbled onto the ground, but quickly got to his feet. He was understandably alienated at the sight around him. A black portal was behind him, and in his eyes, it looked as if the gates of hell itself were pushing him out into this other world, made of cold iron and steel with strange markings on the walls.
“Oh this just keeps on getting better and better.” Kazansky said with a marked sarcasm.
“Indeed it does, major! Do you have any idea how valuable a specimen like this would be to the Krasnorussian scientific community? No – the world?!”
“Captain, just close the damn wormhole. We’ll figure out what to do with this guy once it’s closed. He might actually attempt to jump back in!”
But the man could not. The force of the wind coming out of the wormhole was stronger than the winds of the brutal Sahara itself – a desert whose winds he was used to. He inched with his curled boots towards the whole, meaning to return back to where he came to, but the winds blew him down and across the tunnel. He lost his footing and, quite literally, flew head over heels towards the back end of the tunnel.
“Voronov!”
“Please, sir! Stop pressuring me! I can do this!”
“You’re taking too damn long!” barked Kazansky. He then frowned and said, “Do I have to do this the hard way?”
The only word that Voronov could say was, “What?” before Kazansky whipped out his PYa Yarygin pistol and shot the control board. The vortex immediately closed, and the robotic arms short circuited and fizzed out.
“There we go. See? Nothing to it.” said Kazansky proudly, blowing the smoke from the barrel of his pistol.
“What have you done?” Murmured Voronov as he watched the ancient man get up, looking rather dazed, to shake his head.
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