The Time War

Chapter 30: The Wrong Brothers

The Luddites:

Tom Stoyer had a most satisfied grin on his face as Maggie sat on his lap after dinner. "My friends, it is time to deal with the scourge of Temperature Change. For centuries, the temperature of the planet was a constant 72 degrees. Science tells us so. But over time man created toxic machines which spewed forth gases which raped Mother Earth. As a result the temperature started to vary. On any given day the temperature can vary by as much as 20 or 30 degrees! Soon life as we know it on the planet Earth will be unsustainable. And there is no bigger polluter than our stratoliners and spaceships, which fill the sky with toxic gases. Therefore, I am launching a project to save the lungs of the planet. We are going to shut down air travel, and space travel, for centuries to come. We will stop it before it is even created."

He pressed a button on his pad, and the holoimage of two men appeared on the screen. "These are the Wright Brothers, Orville and Wilbur. They are each ten times more evil than Adolph Hitler, twenty times more evil than George Washington and Thomas Jefferson combined. These are the villains responsible for inventing air travel. They must be stopped."

"We will kill them," said Gerstad Mueller.

The others murmured their approval.

"No," said Tom. He put a fatherly arm on Mueller's shoulder. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, my friend, but that would be too obvious. The Continuity Service would pinpoint the time of their deaths and reverse things to our detriment. We need something more subtle."

"We could sabotage their airplane," said Craig Fuller, the resident inanimasexual.

"A good idea, Craig," said Tom. "But even then, the CS or even the Wright Brothers themselves could spot obvious sabotage. No, we need a more subtle way of stopping these fiends, a way even the villains at the Continuity Service could never, ever detect."

********

"Hello John," said Ayesha, giving Calle a smile.

"Hello Ayesha, how are you doing today?"

"Fabulous," she said, wiggling her large Indian buttocks as she walked away with an atomic coffee jug.

"Did you hear that?" Sarah said, raising an eyebrow as she stared at Calle in a most flirtatious way. "She's doing

fabulously

."

"Do you enjoy using other women to taunt me?" Calle asked.

"Why not?" said Sarah. "There is so little to entertain me here." She pointed to her holoscreens. "So many channels, and so little to watch," she sighed. But a moment later, she sat upright in her chair.

"Sarah, what is it?"

Sarah didn't answer. Instead, she pressed some keys, and her screens flickered rapidly. Then she pressed a button, "Commander Strayker? You'd better get out here."

********

"Space travel is now in its infancy," said Colonel Strayker. He wore a black suit with tall collars as he puffed on a nuclear cigarette. "The Survey Service doesn't even exist."

"How can that be?" Major Reynolds asked.

"Maybe because the modern airplane was only developed two centuries ago," said Strayker.

"But... airplanes were not invented in the 23rd century," said Daniel. "That was way back in the 20th century."

"Precisely," said Strayker. "By these two gentlemen." And a holoimage of Orville and Wilbur Wright appeared above them. He turned to John Calle. "Your mission, Captain, is to find out what went wrong, and fix it. You can take Lieutenants Acton and Green."

Daniel and Erica.

"Me, sir?" said Calle.

"Yes, you," said Strayker. "You've led missions before. Is that a problem?"

"No, sir." Suddenly, somehow, without knowing exactly when, Calle realized he had become a team leader. Major Reynolds still led some missions, but Strayker now had enough confidence to let Calle lead more and more of them on his own, especially where combat situations seemed less likely and the need for his Special Talent seemed to be greater.

********

It was all about the cocaine.

Orville and Wilbur Wright originally opened a bicycle shop because they loved bikes. They were more dependable than horses, and didn't have to be fed. But then they realized that fixing bikes wouldn't make them very much money.

Distributing narcotics, however, was much more lucrative. The first time Wyche Fowler came to them and offered them five dollars for "delivering a package, no questions asked" ten miles down the road, dollar signs went off in their heads. Well, Wilbur's head, anyway. Not much ever went off in Orville's head.

And so they started a cocaine distribution service. They got rich, but realized along the way that they wanted something more, much more.

They wanted to get

filthy

rich.

Wilbur had the idea for a flying vehicle, like a glider, but powered by an engine. It could carry cocaine for miles and miles in mere minutes. Spurred by the need for technical innovation in the narcotics delivery business, he and Wilbur labored for months in their shed, until their first model was complete.

They started the propeller, and it roared!

Orville, Wilbur decided, would be the first test pilot, as he was the more expendable one. But while Orville could get the plane to move, slowly, he couldn't get it off the ground. It should have worked, but it didn't.

And that was the state of affairs when John Calle, Daniel Acton, and Erica Green entered their bike shop on March 3, 1903.

They had been drinking the night before and were not in the best of moods. And so when "journalists" started asking about their new flying craft, Wilbur told them to go away.

"We want to see it!" said Calle.

"It doesn't work," said Wilbur moodily. He grabbed his pounding head. Whiskey always did that to him; beer, less so, but beer wasn't nearly as good.

"What do you mean, it doesn't work?" Daniel asked. "You couldn't get the propeller started?"

Wilbur leaned forward. They could smell the whiskey on his breath. "The propeller works fine. The engine works fine. The wings, the little wheels on the bottom, they all work fine. But the thing just won't go into the air."

Daniel and Calle exchanged glances. "Well, I'd love to see you try," said Daniel.

"Go away," Wilbur suggested, staggering into a back room.

********

It didn't take much sleuthing to find the plane, it was where it was supposed to be, historically speaking, in a shed on an outer barrier reef in North Carolina, just a few miles from the bike shop.

"Let's give it a spin," said Calle.

"Do you know anything about primitive 20th century airplanes?" Erica asked.

"I design spaceship engines," said Calle. "How hard could it be?"

How hard could it be?

Calle turned the propeller, and got it spinning in two tries. He climbed into the cockpit, and familiarized himself with the simple controls. Then he started moving, slowly.

Too slowly. The plane felt heavy, somehow, heavier than it should be. He couldn't get the plane to go fast enough. He aborted the takeoff before he reached the edge of the landing field.

Then he got out of the plane.

"What's wrong?" Daniel asked. Erica was there too.

"I don't know," said Calle, shaking his head. He started circling the plane, from end to end, holding out his hand like it was a sensor.

"Perhaps we should scan the plane with our palms too," said Daniel.

"Shhh," said Erica. "Remember, he's a Special Talent."

Calle walked around the plane, not really looking at it, but feeling it. He tried to reach out with that extra sense he sometimes had, the feeling that something was key, or pivotal, to the entire situation-

Those glowing orange eyes.

But now he didn't just see the eyes. This time he saw the entire face of the Bioman in his mind. He saw the thick goggles around the glowing eyes. He saw the mask over the mouth and the breathing tube leading into it. He could even see the air bubbles escaping from the edge of the mask. He could see... He could see....

Calle blinked, and found himself standing by the wing of the test plane. His hand was touching something... odd... almost metallic. He looked down at the wing, and saw a tiny rectangular shape. It was painted the same color as the plane and was hard to see, but it was there, perhaps a quarter of an inch wide, a quarter of an inch high, and two inches long. Tiny, really.

Daniel and Erica, seeing he had stopped, came forward. "What is it?" said Daniel.

"I don't know," said Calle. But what he did know was that this tiny rectangle was the key to everything.

Erica raised her Pad and scanned it. "It's... it's... oh my God."

"What?" said Daniel.

"It's nearly two percent neutronium."

Neutronium. The densest substance known to exist in the universe.

"That little sliver must weigh hundreds of pounds," said Daniel. "It's no wonder the plane can't take off!"

"Help me pry it off," said Calle. He started to pull on it with his fingers. It wouldn't budge. It wasn't affixed to the wing; but it was so heavy that it wouldn't move. Daniel started to push as well. Slowly, they began to get it moving. It was only four inches or so to the edge of the wing, but it felt like a mile. When they finally pushed it off, it fell to the ground with an enormous thud.

"Are there any more?" Daniel asked.

"Let me check," said Erica. She scanned the rest of the plane slowly. "No, that's the only one."

"So we did it!" said Daniel. "History is saved!"

"Not quite," said Calle. "The Wright brothers still think it's a failure. How do we convince them to give it another try?"

*********

"You fixed the plane, but can't get them to try again?" said Strayker.

"No sir," said Calle. "We went back to their bike shop, but they just laughed in our faces."

"Well, then persuade them to do so," said Strayker.

"They don't want to. The older brother, Wilbur, has given up."

Strayker glared at Calle and Daniel and Erica for a long moment, puffing furiously on his nuclear cigarette. He was wearing a severe looking green suit with tall collars.

"Well, then you'll just have to persuade him to do so," said Strayker. "You, Lieutenant Green, will be in charge of this task."

"Me, sir?"

"Are there any other Lieutenant Greens in the room?" Strayker asked. He held up a restraining hand. "Don't answer that. That was a rhetorical question."

Erica looked perplexed. "You want me to persuade him, sir. How can I do that, sir?"

Strayker sighed theatrically. "Take off your clothes in front of a mirror. That may give you some vital clues," said Strayker. He glared at all three of them. "You're dismissed." He glared at them again, puffing madly. "Why are you still here?"

Calle and Daniel got up and left. Erica was about to follow, when she turned and faced the Commander. "Sir, may I have a moment of your time?"

Strayker glared at her. "I have three, no four temporal incursions that have to be analyzed, courses of action determined, and men assigned to it. I have fourteen personnel decisions I have to make. I have the three month and six month budget to approve. And I have to read about proposed technical improvements to the Time Shaft which are extremely complex and approve or disapprove them. I'm working on six hours of sleep a night, if even that. But don't get the wrong idea: my time is unlimited, and is all yours, Lieutenant."

"Thank you sir," said Erica. "I... I was wondering if someone else might be better suited for this assignment than me."

"Better suited?" Strayker's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe Sarah. I'm sure Sarah wouldn't mind-"

"But I picked

you

for this mission, Lieutenant," said Strayker. "What is your problem?"

"It's just that I've never... ever...." Her head fell down.

"Never had sex before?"

"No, I've done that," said Erica. "I've just never done it... like this before."

"Oh. I see," said Strayker. "You feel uncomfortable, sleeping with a man you have no affection for."

"That's it exactly, sir," said Erica. "I'm so glad you understand."

"I do, I really do, dear," said Commander Strayker. "You feel your prudishness about having sex is more important than the history of mankind, of the fate of the entire human race. Do I have that right?"

"No sir-"

"I think that's exactly what the problem is," said Strayker. "Lieutenant Green, when you signed up for the Continuity Service, you made a commitment. A commitment to do whatever was necessary to protect the timeline, even to giving your life. I'm not asking for your life. I'm not even asking for your virginity. I'm just asking you to spread your legs for a few minutes to help save the future of thirty billion people. Am I asking too much of you?" He paused, and stared at her appraisingly. "Perhaps I am. Perhaps I have been pushing you too hard. Have you ever considered early retirement?"

"Retirement... sir?"

"You're a bit young for it, I grant you, but if you want it, I won't stand in your way. Just say the word, and it's yours," said Strayker.

Erica's heart started to beat wildly. Her pulse started to race. She felt her thinking growing foggy. "No, sir!" she cried. "I don't want to retire! Please, don't retire me! I can do this!"

"Are you sure?" said Strayker.

"Yes sir, absolutely, I can do this," said Erica.

"Good," said Strayker. "I'm sure you can."

********

It was every bit as awful as Erica expected. She made the mistake of asking Sarah for "help". Sarah eagerly accepted, and before long had Erica wearing a dress that showed off a ton of her cleavage.

"I wasn't quite thinking of this," said Erica fearfully, cupping her partially exposed breasts.

"Trust me, Wilbur Wright will be thinking of them when

he

sees them," Sarah grinned.

And so, dressed like a slutty whore, Erica Green entered Orville and Wilbur Wright's bicycle shop alone the day after her previous visit.

But this time, her reception was much different.

Both Orville and Wilbur competed for her attention. They stared at her breasts like they were juicy steaks and neither of them had eaten for a week.

Erica smiled and tried to be polite and focused her attentions on Wilbur, who she had been told was the brains of the operation, and asked very politely if he would like to have dinner with her?

As it turned out, he would.

********

Wilbur probably thought he was charming her with discussions about bicycles. How he fixed this bike or that bike or repaired some other bike. How the wheels came off, or how heroic he was in struggling to get a wheel to go back on. Erica smiled to show she was interested, which Wilbur, of course, took to mean that she was interested.

Erica let herself be led back to Wilbur's ramshackle apartment like a sheep to the slaughter. He had his arm around her waist which made her feel very uncomfortable.

His apartment was a mess--clothes and tools and even pieces of bicycles littered the floor. She even saw a bicycle wheel lying in the kitchen.

"Sorry about the mess," Wilbur grunted.

Erica was saved from having to come up with a polite reply by the pressure of Wilbur's lips on hers. His lips were strong, demanding, prying, and seconds later Erica squealed as she felt Wilbur's tongue in her mouth.

It seemed like only moments later before her dress was over her head, her panties down to her ankles, and Wilbur was on top of her, plowing into her. His bed stank of grease and shit and who knows what else and so did Wilbur, for that matter. When he first entered her, Erica's eyes grew wide as she felt the ritual of reproduction beginning. She had prepared herself, dissolving a fizzly sperm blocker tablet in her vagina mere hours earlier, but she was not prepared for the brutal entry of a savage, 20th century male penis into her most sacred of precincts.

Erica hadn't lied to Commander Strayker. She wasn't a virgin. But she could count the number of times she had had sex on two hands (with a few fingers to spare). Somehow, she never really enjoyed sex, even with Jesse Kornbaum. Jesse had been a kind, considerate boy she had met at Princeton while she was getting a degree in Global Security Studies. Erica had instinctively decided that she wanted Jesse to take her virginity. Being a virgin at 28 was starting to feel like a handicap. She thought he would be kind and gentle.

She was right. Jesse was kind, and gentle... and boring. He gently entered her, inch by inch, holding her hand, looking incredibly concerned for her. Erica found him incredibly compassionate, and incredibly boring. As he slowly moved in and out of her, Erica felt like she had taken a trip to the dentist, or a tube washer.

She tried Jesse a few more times after that, and after dumping him tried a random guy named Dirk she met in a local bar, but then simply concluded she didn't particularly enjoy-

"Ug!" Erica cried, as Wilbur Wright thrust into her. Her entire body jolted each time he thrusted, her breasts quivering like an earthquake was shaking the bed. Some girls would have been thrilled to be taken by the inventor of the airplane. But Erica Green was not one of them.

"Oh!" Erica cried agaoin, as she felt Wilbur's raw penis surge into her again. This felt nothing like Jesse Kornbaum's penis, which had been gentle and kind and understanding in a very non-threatening beta-male kind of way. This felt more like-

"Uh!" she cried as she was penetrated again. Erica grit her teeth, and tried to remember what she was doing this for. She was a Continuity Service Lieutenant, proud and noble and virtuous-

"Ug!" She was doing this to save the planet, to save the human race-

"Ug!" She was offering up her vagina for aeroflight, for spaceflight, for the future of mankind, for the noblest of causes-

"Ooooooh!" Wilbur stiffened and dropped on top of her like a dead weight. Erica realized, to her horror, that he had just come inside of her. Her vagina was filled with his brutal, almost autistic sperm.

It was over.

Except, it wasn't.

In retrospect, Erica should have realized how naïve she was to think she could wrap Wilbur around her finger after having sex once with him. She immediately pleaded him to try his plane again. He laughingly refused.

When Erica returned to Continuity Service Headquarters, and told Strayker she had failed, he asked how many times she had slept with him. She raised a single finger.

His glare told her what needed to be done.

And so Erica had had to sleep with Wilbur Wright

twice more

before she was finally able to convince him to try flying his test plane again.

They were lying in bed together. "You know, dear, I'd really like to see you flying that plane."

"The plane, the plane, the plane, that's all you ask about," said Wilbur, lying on his back and irritable about having his post-orgasmic haze disturbed.

"I'm going to have to go back to Baltimore soon. I had hoped to see the plane before I go."

Wilbur stiffened, and she knew at that moment she had him. "When are you leaving?"

"Well... if I'm not going to see the plane...."

Wilbur agreed to attempt a test flight the following morning.

********

It was a windy morning in northern North Carolina, but the sun was shining when Wilbur took the plane out of his shed. He started the propeller and got into the cockpit. "But it won't fly," he said.

"Just try it," Erica implored.

Wilbur bit his lip and shook his head, but he gunned the engine.

Suddenly, the plane started to move quickly. Really quickly, much faster than before. It started zooming down the makeshift bumpy runway he had hastily improvised on the dunes. In moments he reached the speed he needed, pulled back on the stick and... LIFT OFF!

John Calle and Daniel Acton came out of the shadows to join Erica as they watched.

"A beautiful sight," said Calle, watching the plane waggle its wings.

"Truly amazing to be a part of history," said Daniel, peering upwards. Then he turned to Erica. "Isn't it?"