ADVENTURES THROUGH TIME (2025 Edition) by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 19 – LIBERATION

22:19 (GMT)

Friday, May 29, 1942 ‘B’

RAF Air Station Northolt

England

The close to 500 men of the First Naval Infantry Battalion of the Free French Forces were not too surprised to see their trucks stop at the foot of one of the huge access ramps of the gigantic GILGAMESH: this whole thing was probably another secret, short-notice combined operation with the Time Patrol, like the one that had liberated the inmates of the German concentration camps less than two days ago. That brought a concert of approving comments and cheers from the French soldiers, who had appreciated that chance to finally get at the Germans, apart from being able to free thousands of civilian compatriots. The men of the Second Company of the battalion in particular had been proud to play a role in that operation, since that had allowed them to walk and fight for a day on French soil. The morale of the soldiers was thus high as they jumped out of their trucks and formed up in three ranks, then walked up the access ramp while singing a march song, led by their officers. While they were not surprised to see three men and one woman of the Time Patrol waiting for them inside the huge cargo hold, the French were however intrigued by the 25 men and nine women waiting besides the Time Patrol members and wearing camouflage-pattern uniforms of a type never seen before. After being ordered to a halt and made to turn towards the waiting men and women, the soldiers couldn’t help whisper to each other as they examined the strange uniforms: miniature French flags were sewn on the left shoulder of those uniforms. One of the men of the Time Patrol then walked to a position facing the soldiers and shouted loudly in French to be heard by all of them.

“WELCOME ABOARD THE GILGAMESH, GENTLEMEN! I AM FIELD AGENT JACK CRAWFORD AND I WILL BE IN CHARGE OF YOUR BATTALION DURING YOUR STAY ON THIS SHIP. THE GROUP OF MEN AND WOMEN IN FUNNY UNIFORMS YOU SEE IN FRONT OF YOU ARE ACTUALLY SOLDIERS OF THE FREE FRENCH FORCES LIKE YOU. WHEN YOU WILL GET OFF THIS SHIP, YOU WILL LOOK LIKE THEM, SINCE YOU ARE HERE TO BE FULLY REEQUIPPED WITH

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MODERN EQUIPMENT BEFORE YOUR NEXT MISSION: THE LIBERATION OF PARIS.”

Wild cheers came out of the French soldiers at those words. Jack Crawford waited until silence had mostly come back before speaking again.

“IN CASE YOU ARE IMAGINING THAT YOU WILL DO THAT MISSION ALL BY YOURSELVES, THINK AGAIN. YOU ARE GOOD BUT NOT THAT GOOD. WE OF THE TIME PATROL ACTUALLY PLAN TO REEQUIP AND RETRAIN MOST OF THE FREE FRENCH FORCES BEFORE THAT OPERATION. YOU WILL PROBABLY THINK THAT THIS COULD TAKE WEEKS, MAYBE MONTHS. IT WILL, BUT I PROMISE YOU THAT NOT TEN MINUTES WILL HAVE PASSED IN LONDON BY THE TIME WE LAND YOU BACK IN NORTHOLT. WE WILL ACHIEVE THAT BY GOING INTO THE DISTANT PAST, WHERE WE WILL DO YOUR TRAINING AND REEQUIPPING BEFORE RETURNING TO THIS DATE. THE FIRST PHASE OF OUR PROGRAM WILL BE TO KIT YOU OUT WITH NEW UNIFORMS AND PERSONAL FIELD GEAR. IN CASE YOU ARE WONDERING WHERE WE GOT THOSE

UNIFORMS, THE ONLY THING I CAN TELL YOU IS THAT WE FOUND A NUMBER OF ABANDONED MILITARY DEPOTS AROUND THE WORLD IN THE FAR FUTURE. DON’T ASK IN WHAT YEAR OR WHY THEY WERE ABANDONED BECAUSE WE WON’T ANSWER YOU. SOME THINGS ARE BETTER LEFT UNSAID, GENTLEMEN. THE 25 FRENCH SENIOR NCOs HERE WILL NOW EACH TAKE CARE OF A SUB-UNIT AND WILL GUIDE YOU TO YOUR QUARTERS BEFORE SHOWING YOU TO THE TEMPORARY CLOTHING STORE. I WILL SEE YOU AGAIN ONCE YOU ARE CLOTHED.”

Jack Crawford then loudly called up forward the French instructors, who quickly dispersed throughout the ranks of the battalion and presented themselves to its French officers and warrant officers. The battalion then split up and its elements were guided to a bank of cargo elevators which brought them to higher decks. By that time, the access ramp of the ship had closed and the GILGAMESH was lifting off from Northolt. It soon disappeared in a flash of white light from the British sky.

The troops soon found themselves on one of the passenger decks of the GILGAMESH, decks which had been designed to handle a large volume of refugees or survivors fleeing a natural disaster or other types of emergency situations. The passenger deck was divided into dozens of passenger lounges cum dormitories, apart

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from including large mess halls and other communal facilities. The rows of comfortable sofas in each of the passenger lounges/dormitories could actually be reconfigured into wide double-decked bunk beds at the touch of a button, allowing each lounge to accommodate comfortably up to 120 sleeping persons or 180 sitting ones. The French instructors gave enough time to the soldiers and their officers to drop their gear on the places selected by each of them, then led them up to another deck used to store small-sized cargo. The nine French women and the single Time Patrol woman seen earlier were waiting for them in a wide and deep compartment nearly filled with large cardboard boxes staked on modular shelves. The Time Patrol woman, a tiny person in her thirties, shouted in French as loud as she could in order to be heard by all.

“GOOD EVENING, GENTLEMEN! MY NAME IS MARGARET MACDONALD AND I RUN THIS TEMPORARY CLOTHING STORE. I WILL ASK YOU NOW TO DIVIDE INTO NINE FILES, ONE IN FRONT OF EACH OF THE LADIES BEHIND ME. LET’S MOVE, MEN!”

The French soldiers, hurried on by the instructors, quickly formed up nine long files, after which the women standing in front of the rows of shelving started serving them. Each soldier received first a large kaki kit bag where he could stuff the articles of clothing he was about to receive. He then accompanied the woman serving him down the rows of shelves and cardboard boxes, trying on the various items to find the size that fit him best. Each soldier got four complete combat uniforms, two pairs of boots, six sets of underwear, a cold weather overcoat, gloves, a beret, rank slip-ons, rain gear and a winter hat. The last items distributed were a Kevlar helmet, an armored tactical vest, a web gear system and a large capacity backpack with sleeping bag, plus a personal hygiene kit with two towels. No signatures were requested from the soldiers for the kit. Once fully equipped, the loaded soldiers were directed through the back exits of the storage compartment and guided back to their respective lounges. Kitting out the whole battalion took hours of frantic work by the French female clerks but the morale of the soldiers was high as they went through their new clothes. The last act of the night was a group visit to the showers, followed by bedding down and lights out.

Reveille was marked by the switching on of the main lights and the shouts of the instructors, as there were no windows in the lounges to see outside if dawn had come. The soldiers were told to dress in their new uniforms after shaving, which gave a chance to the instructors to inspect them quickly and correct the most glaring mistakes. The

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battalion then went to have breakfast at one of the cafeterias on the deck they used. To their surprise, they found there dozens of bald giants in futuristic civilian clothes busy laying out a breakfast buffet. One of the officers, Lieutenant Marc Pinel, went to Jack Crawford to ask him about the giants. The American smiled and answered Pinel with good humor.

“They are from the 34th century, where the Time Patrol originates from. With all the humanitarian work to be done these days to take care of concentration camps survivors and refugees, we were in serious need of extra manpower. So, we appealed for help in 3386 and got an overwhelming response. The civilians you see were actually on the most part unemployed and idle, either because they don’t have professional qualifications which were in demand at the time or because they simply were not interested in the work that was available. Helping others in need is however a strong trait of the people of the 34th century, who are convinced pacifists.”

“They were out of work? But they don’t look poor to me.”

“Lieutenant, the society of the 34th century, which is called the Global Council, is what you would describe in France a socialist paradise. All the basic necessities of life are provided free to all the citizens, including the unemployed. That means free rent for a government-provided basic apartment, a ration card that allows you free meals in public cafeterias, a free clothing allocation, free medical care and education and a small, very small actually, cash stipend. The money one earns through a job is essentially used to buy luxury items, to go to first class restaurants or to enjoy vacations in fancy places.”

“And what attracted those people to come work for you in a time of war, especially if they are pacifists?”

“Partly the pay and partly the chance to help others in need. The reports from this war struck the citizens of the Global Council hard: they couldn’t even imagine that so much misery and inhumanity could exist. Some of our volunteers are actually people who had good jobs but took unpaid leave to come help us alleviate some of the human suffering caused by this war.”

“I see! Thank you, Mister Crawford.”

Lieutenant Pinel then returned into the chow line, thinking furiously about what Jack had said. Pinel was actually a discreet member of the French Communist Party. He didn’t know if establishing a social system such as the one described by Jack Crawford would be possible in France but it was certainly worth considering if it proved to be at all

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feasible. His turn at the buffet then came. Pinel looked in disbelief at the choice of eggs, sausages, ham, cheese, oatmeal, cereals, bread and fresh fruits, then at one of the giants helping to serve the food, a middle-aged woman with a mix of oriental and Caucasian blood.

“Is this typical of the variety and quality of food you get in your society, miss?” The bald woman looked back, apparently surprised by his question.

“Yes, mister. Actually, this is a quite basic spread. Is something unsatisfactory, mister?”

“Uh, no, not at all. Thank you, miss.”

Like the other French soldiers, Pinel filled his plate, going heavy on the meats, which were rationed and expensive commodities in this war. He then sat with his men, which were hungrily wolfing down their breakfast and making more than a few positive comments about the food. As they were nearly finished, a man’s voice came out of some invisible loudspeaker.

“YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE! BE ADVISED THAT WEAPONS

DISTRIBUTION WILL START IN HALF AN HOUR. IN THE MEANTIME, ENJOY THE COFFEE: WE HAVE FRESH COLOMBIAN GRIND.”

“Colombian grind?” Said Pinel’s platoon sergeant while getting up. “After all this ersatz coffee, I’m certainly going to have a cup…or two.”

One of Pinel’s soldiers then looked at him while munching on a sausage.

“Lieutenant, do you know what kind of weapons we will get? Will they be as modern as our new uniforms?

“I frankly don’t know, Corporal. I guess that we will see in half an hour.”

What they saw half an hour later in one of the seemingly countless storage rooms of the ship was even better than what they had dreamed. Taking a rifle out of a crate, the French instructor assigned to Pinel’s platoon presented it with pride to the 34 men facing him in a semi-circle.

“Gentlemen, this is a FAPAM, or Fusil d’Assaut à Puissance Accrue Manurin21, your new individual rifle. As you can see, it is short enough to be used like a submachine gun and is thus suitable to arm tank crews as well as infantrymen. It fires a totally new kind of 7mm cartridge called Telescoped Cased Round, like this one.”

21 Manurin Increased Power Assault Rifle

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The instructor then handed Pinel a strange cartridge, where the bullet was actually seated inside the casing, with the propellant surrounding it. It made for a fat but short round of ammunition. Pinel examined it for a few seconds, then passed it around his men. The instructor waited until the round was back in his hands before continuing.

“The FAPAM was adopted by the French Army as its standard rifle in the year 2029, after the 7mm TCR was selected as the new standard rifle caliber. It can fire in semi-automatic, full automatic or 3-round burst modes and is fed by a 70-round capacity magazine that fits on top of it.”

The instructor pointed at a cylinder-like magazine on the table in front of him. A number of other accessories and parts were also on the table. He took the magazine and snapped it in place on top of the rifle. Next, he pointed at a large, round housing under the rifle barrel.

“This is the grenade-launcher assembly. It is a single-shot unit which fires 60mm grenades to a maximum range of 800 meters. The grenades themselves are contained in this sealed tube, which is used as both a transport container and as the launch tube. To load the launcher, you simply insert the sealed tube in and press while twisting it clockwise one-quarter turn. Once fired, you simply twist back the empty tube and throw it away. The standard grenade is a dual-purpose anti-armor, anti-personnel one that can pierce up to 300mm of steel. Its fragments are deadly to a radius of ten meters. The heavy recoil when firing a grenade is absorbed by a pneumatic recoil buffer situated behind the launcher. On top of your FAPAMs is a dual day/night optical sight with a 3X magnification, combined with a laser dot sight.”

The instructor went on for a good five minutes, then demonstrated how to disassemble and reassemble the weapon. Next, he distributed a rifle to each of his students and made them practice with their new weapons for a good hour until he was satisfied that they were proficient in caring for them.

“Alright, we will now show you your new light machinegun, the MLAM, or Mitrailleuse Légère d’Assaut Manurin. Who are the machine gunners in your platoon?” Seven men raised their hands. The instructor looked at the most senior one.

“What kind of machinegun have you been using up to now, Master Corporal?”

“We have two British Vickers .303 machineguns, Master Sergeant. They are good weapons but are a bit too heavy for our assault role. We lost our original Chatellerault 1924/29 light machineguns in 1940.”

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“Then, you should love this baby.” said the instructor, going to a large crate and taking out one after the other three futuristic light machineguns, handing them to the machine gunners.

“The MLAM uses the same 7mm TCR ammunition as your new FAPAM rifles and are actually very similar inside in terms of mechanical design. They however use a larger, 200-round capacity magazine, have a longer, heavier barrel with quick-change feature, a folding bipod and a X4 optical day/night sight. Compared to your old Vickers, the MLAM has twice the rate of fire, weighs less than a third of the weight and can be transported and operated by a single man. A second man is however recommended as assistant gunner, to carry the spare barrel, tools and extra ammunition. I will ask three of you to exchange your FAPAMs for MLAMs now.”

Pinel then pointed at his three best gunners.

“Alright, Berthelet, Chauveau and Meunier, you take MLAMs.” The three gunners obeyed readily enough, taking their new light machineguns eagerly. Another half hour of training on the MLAM followed. As they were about to take a well-deserved break, a doubt then entered Pinel’s mind.

“Master Sergeant, these new weapons are indeed fantastic but they use ammunition that is not produced in 1942. What happens when we run out of whatever stocks the Time Patrol brought from the future?”

The instructor smiled, having obviously expected such a question.

“Do not worry about that, sir. Only in terms of 7mm TCR ammunition, this ship is actually transporting over forty billion rounds, which will be handed to the French forces. There are lots more left where those came from as well.”

“Forty billion?”

“That’s right, sir. Now, could I ask you to stay for a few minutes while your men take a rest? I have a pistol for you which fires the same 7mm TCR ammunition than the MLAM and the FAPAM.”

That impressed Pinel: the idea of having a single type of ammunition for all the individual weapons in an infantry sub-unit was a wise one indeed that would certainly save a lot of hassle in terms of logistics and tactical flexibility.

Pinel and his platoon felt wonderful as they went to the cafeteria at noon for lunch: they were now more than ready to take on the Germans and would do so with a marked superiority in equipment, something they had never enjoyed up to now in this

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war. The meal itself helped keep the morale up, the menu being varied and of a very high quality, apart from being plentiful. As their assigned instructor guided them towards the lower cargo decks after lunch, he seemingly made a short detour and led them around a wide hallway lined on one side with large, thick viewing ports. The view out of these ports immediately drew exclamations from the soldiers: visible from orbit was the Earth, with its beautiful blue orb and oceans dotted with white clouds. The instructor let them admire the view for a good five minutes before speaking.

“We have been in orbit around the Earth since we left England yesterday. The people of the Time Patrol told me that, in the 34th century, Humanity occupies the whole of the Solar System and travels routinely through space.”

“The lucky bastards!” couldn’t help say Pinel, drawing a nod from the instructor.

“Indeed! We are now going to one of the main cargo decks, where your battalion will draw its new vehicles. After that, this ship will land in a deserted area, so that you could go out and do some firing practice with your new weapons before returning to England, where another unit will be picked up to be reequipped.”

“Wait, Master Sergeant!” Said Pinel. “I can see how we could easily learn to operate and maintain new portable weapons, but vehicles are another matter entirely. Learning the mechanical details of a modern vehicle takes months and years, and spare parts availability could become a big problem.”

“That is why your new vehicles are not so new, sir.” replied the instructor. “All of them are in production in 1942 and spare parts for them are readily available. Follow me and you will see.”

“Uh, if you say so, Master Sergeant. Lead on!”

Pinel was hopeful as he followed the instructor. Up to now, his unit had to do with a motley collection of old, mostly captured enemy trucks which had represented a maintenance nightmare for the inventive but overworked mechanics of the battalion. His eyes, as of those of his men, popped wide open when the cargo elevator they used stopped and its doors slid open, showing the inside of a cavernous hold: literally hundreds of military vehicles, both wheeled and tracked types, were lined up in successive rows, with enough space between rows to let them circulate around.

“Where the hell did they find all these vehicles?” exclaimed Pinel, making the instructor grin.

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“Would you believe in American war surplus auction sales in 1946, sir? There are also a few captured German heavy combat vehicles and artillery pieces. Your battalion transport officer will now assign you your new vehicles.” Their platoon marched to a group of French officers and of one Time Patrol member discussing in the middle of one of the circulation lanes. Pinel came to attention in front of Captain Yves Roissy, the battalion transport officer, and saluted him.

“Lieutenant Pinel, Second Platoon, Second Company, ready to receive its new vehicles, sir!”

Captain Roissy saluted back, then looked at a list in his hands.

“Lieutenant Pinel, I have for your platoon three American DUKW amphibious trucks and one jeep.”

“Amphibious trucks, sir?” said Pinel, surprised, not knowing that such things existed.

“Yes, Lieutenant! They are actually built around the chassis of the American GMC 2.5-ton truck, have a boat hull and one propeller in the rear. The DUKW will actually become the standard transport vehicle of our battalion. Come with me and you will see.”

Pinel, with his men following him a few paces behind, followed Roissy along the rows of vehicles. Pinel was able to recognize as part of the visible inventory the GMC 2.5 ton and Dodge ¾ ton trucks in many of their variants, hundreds of American jeeps and armored M-3 halftracks, plus dozens of German tanks and self-propelled guns, including huge TIGER tanks with their impressive 88mm guns. They finally stopped in front of a row of what looked like six-wheeled trucks with boat hulls. A .50 caliber heavy machinegun was mounted on each of the DUKWs and the white star of the American Army was still painted on the vehicles.

“You can take the first three DUKWs of that row, Lieutenant, along with one jeep out of the row to our left. Have your men familiarize themselves with them but do not start the engines: we will have to wait until this ship has landed and it could open its ramps before doing that. If not, the fumes would contaminate the air aboard the ship. Once on the ground, your men will be able to drive around and get familiar with them. We will also take the time to paint them into a standard camouflage scheme, with our own French insignias on.”

Pinel looked at his new vehicles with bright eyes.

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“Hell, sir, I feel ready to eat Germans for breakfast anytime now with all this new kit.”

“That’s the idea, Lieutenant!” replied Roissy, also pleased.

12:09 (Paris Time)

Saturday, May 30, 1942 ‘B’

Le Bourget Airfield, northeast of Paris

France

The first thing that the few remaining employees of the airfield at Le Bourget saw were four scoutships approaching at a dizzying speed, low over the horizon. Remembering what had happened six days ago in Paris when such ships were seen, the French cheered wildly and without fear, since the Germans had departed in great haste from the airfield yesterday. As the scoutships slowed down, they split up and each overflew specific installations of the airfield. About 200 silhouettes then jumped out from the tail end of the scoutships and, gliding smoothly down, dispersed around the airfield. An old janitor standing in front of the air terminal’s main entrance watched with awe one tall man fly down towards him, landing three paces in front of him. The man, wearing helmet and body armor and holding a sort of compact rifle, smiled to the janitor and spoke in perfect French.

“Good day, sir! Could you tell me if there are any Germans left around the airfield?”

“Not one, sir! They all fled like scared rabbits yesterday. They took what they could with them but they didn’t have enough trucks to bring all their supplies with them. I am actually surprised that they didn’t blow them up before leaving.”

“That’s because we forbade them to do so, good man.” replied the helmeted soldier. “What kind of supplies did they leave behind?”

“Mostly aviation fuel, spare parts and ammunition, including hundreds of bombs. Some of the fuel is already gone, however: the black marketeers didn’t take long to learn about it.”

“I see!” said laconically the soldier, apparently not pleased about the stolen fuel. He then spoke in his helmet’s microphone.

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“Jan, this is Fernand. The Germans are supposedly all gone but be careful still about possible booby-traps. Also, beware of war profiteers who have apparently started stealing fuel from the leftover German stocks. Fernand, out!” Looking back at the janitor, the soldier shook the old man’s hand.

“Rejoice, mister: Paris is being freed for good today.”

As the soldier said that, the biggest flying thing the janitor had ever seen appeared out of nowhere over the airfield and landed vertically on a dozen giant landing legs. Two huge ramps lowered from the ship’s belly and long columns of wheeled and tracked vehicles started rolling down on the airfield. The janitor felt his heart jump with joy when he saw that the jeep leading one of the columns flew a big French flag with the Lorraine Cross on it, the symbol of the Free French Forces.

12:15 (Paris Time)

Paris Town Hall Square

Right shore of River Seine, Paris

The scoutship BRITANNIA uncloaked just as it was about to touch ground on the large square next to the city town hall, an imposing and beautiful 19th century building. As soon as the rear access ramp was down and the twenty combat robots got out behind Jean Bigras, Captain Georges Bergé shouted to the 94 men from the First Company of Airborne Infantry of the Free French Forces standing in the scoutship’s cargo hold.

“REMEMBER: AVOID CIVILIAN CASUALTIES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. FIRE ONLY IF NECESSARY.”

The 95 French paratroopers, loaded down with backpacks full of ammunition and rations, ran out of the scoutship and rushed towards the town hall’s three main entrances. The six Paris policemen guarding the doors, stunned, did not offer any resistance and simply let the Free French soldiers run by them and enter the building. Already, the BRITANNIA had taken off and was being replaced in the square by the AMERICA, which promptly disgorged 94 men of the French First Battalion of Naval Infantry Commandos. The scoutships WALKUREN and ANGEL OF MERCY followed in quick succession, dropping off the rest of the battalion of naval infantry commandos, who quickly dispersed to take control of the area surrounding the town hall. The Parisian citizens watching all this with a mixture of disbelief and joy then looked in awe as the heavy cargo shuttle

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HERMES maneuvered carefully to land in the square. Six jeeps, five of them mounting heavy machineguns, came out first, followed by a radio command van, a military ambulance and ten medium trucks. The armed jeeps dispersed at once, while the other vehicles parked in a single row in front of the town hall. The HERMES left as soon as its hold was empty: it had plenty more tasks to fill today. Stepping out of the lead jeep, General De Gaulle proudly marched side-by-side with Nancy Laplante towards the town hall. This was truly a dream come true for him, especially in view of the doubts and suspicions the British and, especially, the Americans, had shown towards him and his Free French Forces since 1940. Thanks to Nancy Laplante and her incredible genius for operational planning, his ragtag forces had been brought from the various corners of Africa and of the Near East, where they had been fighting mostly French Vichy forces, to England, where they had been quickly reequipped with new equipment, including reclaimed French Army equipment that the enemy had been using since the defeat of 1940. What De Gaulle was most grateful for to Nancy Laplante, though, was the fact that she was ready to back him up by all means and to favor France at this critical time. De Gaulle was however not naïve and realized that Nancy expected in return his support for her post-war plans for Europe. He had already had a long discussion with her on that subject four days ago and understood why she was loath on depending much on the British and the Americans: both countries had their own agendas which partly conflicted with her long-term goals and both had serious disagreements with her, be it about racism for the Americans or about imperialistic attitudes in the case of the British. De Gaulle, on his part, had already agreed with Nancy to a number of post-war measures that, while sensitive to many in France, he could live with.

Entering the town hall with Laplante and his Aide-De-Camp, De Gaulle was met at the foot of the monumental ceremonial staircase by a small man in civilian suit pushed forward by a Free French soldier. The soldier came to attention and saluted De Gaulle.

“General, this is the assistant prefect of Paris, Monsieur Gilles De LaMotte. It seems that the prefect himself fled along with the Germans yesterday.” Both De Gaulle and Laplante looked down critically at the apprehensive civilian.

“We will eventually catch up with the prefect and deal with him.” said De Gaulle. “Monsieur De LaMotte, I am General Charles De Gaulle, Commander of the Free French Forces. My soldiers are right now taking control of Paris in the name of the French Government of National Liberation, which I lead, and I request you and your officials to

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provide any and all assistance required by my troops and me. First of all, you will call the police prefect and tell him that I expect law and order to be respected. Any act of vigilantism or summary execution against presumed collaborators is strictly forbidden and will be severely punished. This prohibition includes any public humiliation of women accused of relations with German soldiers. Military tribunals, with the assistance of the Time Patrol, will judge those accused of collaboration. We already have a list of proven collaborators who will be arrested by my own soldiers today. I will establish my temporary command post here in the city’s administrative offices and my men will start patrolling Paris this afternoon. Do you have any questions, Monsieur De LaMotte?” The assistant prefect looked briefly at Nancy before looking back at De Gaulle.

“Uh, yes, General: what about the curfew established by the Germans? Do you plan to enforce a curfew as well?”

“Paris is now a free city, monsieur. While public violence and disorder will be repressed, the population will be free to come and go as they wish and to celebrate their liberation. I will soon make a radio address to this effect.” A genuine smile then appeared on the face of the official.

“That is wonderful news, General. If you don’t mind, I will now go call the police prefect to inform him of all this.”

“Please do, monsieur.”

As the assistant prefect left them, escorted by the soldier, Nancy looked soberly at De Gaulle.

“I doubt that everything will go this smoothly today, General. I am especially worried about the pro-German militia of Jacques Doriot. Those militiamen know that they are as good as dead if they are captured now and will resist to the end.”

“True enough, Miss Laplante, but they will not be able to offer much resistance: they are only lightly armed and are outnumbered.”

“Still, it would be damning to lose many lives so close to the end of this war. If your men can flush them out with the help of my robots and without French casualties, it would be a good start for this new French government. If you don’t mind, General, I now have to leave to take care of other things. Our liaison agent, Jeanne Leclerc, will arrive here in a few minutes and will provide you as much assistance as possible.”

“I suppose that you are going to Warsaw, to support the return of the Polish government-in-exile there?”

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“No, General. I already have a sizeable team there. Rather, I’m going to personally deliver a few of the invitations to heads of states to our peace conference scheduled here for next Friday.”

“Are the Americans part of the invited guests, miss?” asked De Gaulle cautiously. “You know that they have recognized the collaborationist government of Vichy instead of mine as what they consider the legitimate government of France.”

“I am perfectly aware of that, General, and will remind them of what the reality is here. They may yet learn something about European politics. See you tomorrow, General.”

“I will await your next visit eagerly, Miss Laplante.”

Nancy then disappeared in a flash of light, leaving De Gaulle and his aide to look at the spot she had been in.

“What a woman she is!” said fervently De Gaulle, who then turned to look at his aide. “Claude, once the city is secure, I want you to either find or have produced a Grand Cross of the Legion of Honor, along with the accompanying War Cross with Palm. Have also a few dozens more War Crosses ready as quickly as possible.”

“It will be done, General.”

09:09 (Washington Time)

Saturday, May 30, 1942 ‘B’

State Department Building

Washington, United States

Cordell Hull’s secretary, hearing some kind of disturbance in the hallway of the normally quiet State Department Building, was about to go see outside her office what was going on when a tall woman dressed in a gray military uniform opened the door and entered. The woman was too much of a celebrity for the secretary not to know her.

“Miss Laplante? What can I do for you?”

“You may tell the Secretary of State that I would like to see him for a few minutes to discuss a few urgent matters, Miss Calloway.”

“Uh, one moment please.” replied the secretary, eyeing discreetly the two pistols and the sword slung from the shiny black leather belt worn by Laplante. The Canadian’s uniform was a parade style one, made of a shiny gray tissue and with rows of medal ribbons on her left breast. Knocking first and waiting for an answer, the secretary

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pushed the door of Hull’s office open and stuck her head in after hearing her boss’ muffled answer.

“Mister Secretary, Miss Nancy Laplante is here to see you. She says that she needs to discuss a few urgent matters with you, sir. Should I let her in now?” The old politician and diplomat, sitting behind his desk and reviewing a report, thought furiously for a few seconds. The President was not very happy with Laplante these days after the stunt she had pulled in Hawaii. In fact, Roosevelt had told him only two days ago that he considered Laplante as a woman whose power had gone to her head and who needed a lesson in humility. Hull himself tended to agree with him on that.

“Tell her that I am busy right now and that, if she wishes so, she can wait in the anteroom for the time being.”

The secretary nodded her head and closed the door before turning to face Laplante.

“I am sorry, Miss Laplante, but the Secretary of State is busy at the moment. If you wish so, you can have a seat and wait here.”

An air of mounting irritation appeared on Laplante’s face, who however kept her voice even and polite.

“Miss, tell the Secretary of State that I am fighting a war and that I have no time for his petty bureaucratic games. If he refuses to see me now without some very good reasons, then the United States will be shut out of both the Western Pacific and of Europe after this war.”

“Uh, I will pass your message, miss. One moment please.” The secretary knocked again on the door and went inside, closing the door behind her before walking quickly to Hull’s desk.

“I am sorry, sir, but she insists and threatens to shut our country out of the Western Pacific and of Europe if you don’t see her now.”

“She threatens us?” replied Hull, getting irritated himself. “Alright, let her in, so that I can give her a piece of my mind.”

“Yes sir!”

The secretary went out once again to invite Laplante in, closing the door after Nancy had entered and then going to sit behind her desk, ready to call a few guards if things turned sour in Hull’s office. Inside, Nancy marched resolutely towards Hull’s desk and stopped a few paces in front of it as the diplomat got up from his chair.

“Secretary Hull, you should know that I don’t request urgent meetings simply to discuss peccadilloes.”

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“And you should know that the United States doesn’t take lightly threats made against it, wherever they come from. You have already interfered a couple of time in the internal affairs of the United States and even broke two prisoners out of a state-run internment camp.”

Nancy bent forward and put both fists on Hull’s desk, glaring at him.

“Count yourself lucky that I didn’t have your obscenity of a camp torn down then, Mister Secretary. My people had just liberated dozens of camps which were damn similar to the one in Manzanar and had liberated hundreds of thousands of starving, brutalized inmates from those camps. We have basically wiped out by ourselves both the German and the Japanese military machines, potentially saving you from losing tens of thousands of your soldiers and sailors, and the only thing you do in response is to snub me? Well, I do have power and I will use it, but only to make this world a better one and to prevent deaths and suffering. Now, you either listen to me or I will totally ignore the United States from now on and do things around this world strictly my own way.”

While despising the tone she was taking with him, Hull kept his cool façade and pointed at a nearby chair.

“Alright, miss. Please sit down and say your piece.”

“I will stand, if you don’t mind: this is going to be short. First off, both the cities of Paris and Warsaw have been liberated and both the French and Polish governments in exile have been put back in power. The German Army is now withdrawing on all fronts back to the German borders as they were in 1938, where they will be allowed to stay in a purely defensive posture, stripped of all offensive weapons. Stalin died of a heart attack yesterday, while Beria was killed by a father avenging the rape of his teenage daughter. The Soviet Union is now being ruled collectively by the surviving voting members of the Politburo. As a result of all this, a peace conference on the subject of post-war Europe will be held in Paris on June fifth, next Friday. Both I and General De Gaulle are extending an invitation to the United States to attend that conference as an observer state.”

Hull was speechless for a moment, stunned by so many vital news at once. He then connected on to something Laplante had said in passing.

“Wait! Did you say General De Gaulle? You know very well that we recognize only the government of Marshal Petain as the legitimate government of France.” That earned him a severe look from Nancy.

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“Mister Secretary, first the United States stayed in its splendid isolation for nearly three years, until it was attacked itself. Then you snubbed the one French general who called for his compatriot to keep fighting and recognized instead a collaborationist government which then helped the Germans round up its Jewish citizens for deportation to death camps, which we just emptied. Even more, you held talks with and supported French Admiral Darlan, a political opportunist ready to switch sides at will and who took orders from the Germans when it suited him. Well, whether you like it or not, General De Gaulle will be the center of power in France from now on. If you still insist on wanting to back the wrong horse, then your invitation will be revoked and Europe will be rebuilt without any input from the United States.”

“Don’t you see what you are doing there, miss?” replied heatedly Hull. “De Gaulle is a megalomaniac manipulated by the communists. You are going to help hand over France and maybe the whole of Europe to them.”

“Mister Hull, I won’t even grace those amateurish, ridicule assertions with the comment they would deserve. Now, will you or won’t you recognize De Gaulle’s government as the sole legitimate one for France?”

“Miss, you know very well that I can’t initiate such an important change in our external policies without at least conferring with the President first.”

“Then I suggest that you make it quick, Mister Hull.” said Nancy frostily before turning around and walking towards the door. A shout from Hull made her stop and turn.

“Wait! What about the Pacific campaign? Are you still going to fight the Japanese?”

“We will do what is necessary to stop the suffering around the Pacific, Mister Hull, without expecting anything in return. Just remember that the Time Patrol works for the welfare of the whole of Humanity, not for the good of any particular state. Goodbye, Mister Secretary!”

Hull watched Laplante leave, then grabbed his telephone and called the White House. He was quickly switched on to the President and spoke to him urgently.

“Mister President, this is Cordell Hull speaking. I just received a surprise visit from Nancy Laplante, who came to drop an invitation to a conference in Paris next Friday.”

Roosevelt listened in silence for a minute as his secretary of state told him about the information and the conditions given by Laplante. He finally grumbled in frustration.

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“Can’t anybody rein in that woman? It is becoming impossible to make any coherent long-term policy with her around. Listen, Cordell, I am due to head a planning meeting of the chiefs of staffs at ten in the conference room of the White House, where we will decide on a plan of action in the Pacific. Come in as well, so that we can discuss our European strategy at the same time.”

“I will be there, Mister President.”

Hull next called his aide to have his chauffeured car pick him up at the main entrance of the building. He then put a couple of files inside his briefcase before leaving his office and advising his secretary that he would be at the White House.

The car ride was short and Hull arrived well in time for the meeting, finding in the conference room of the White House the commanders of the Navy, Army, Marines and Army Air Force, the Secretaries of War and of the Navy, the commanders of the Atlantic and Pacific fleets and the President’s Chief of Staff, Admiral Leahy. The President himself was wheeled inside the room a few minutes after Hull’s arrival and stopped his wheelchair at the end of the table reserved for him. He looked around at the participants before speaking up.

“Gentlemen, before we start this planning session, I would like you to listen to some fresh information from Secretary Hull. Cordell, the room is yours.”

“Thank you, Mister President.”

Hull then described Laplante’s visit to the others, who grew quickly subdued. The Secretary of War, Henry Stimson, looked questioningly at Hull at the end of his presentation.

“What will the death of Stalin mean for us in terms of strategy in Europe, Cordell?”

“I am not sure yet, as I don’t know who replaced him as the effective leader of the Soviet Union. Thank God that Beria died too. I wouldn’t want to think about a Soviet Union led by such a monster.”

“That is in fact one thing that intrigues me.” said Roosevelt from his wheelchair. “Don’t you find curious, if not suspicious, that both Stalin and Beria died at the same time? Couldn’t it be Miss Laplante playing kingmaker?”

“Even if she did, Mister President,” said Stimson, “I personally won’t shed a tear for any of those two men. Both were tyrants of the worst kind.”

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“Maybe, but did you think about where she will stop playing kingmaker? She is apparently already putting General De Gaulle on the French throne, so to speak.” From jovial, Stimson then turned dead serious and stared back at the President.

“Sir, if I may. I have met Miss Laplante many times, the first time being only a few weeks after her arrival in 1940. I believe her to be an exceptional and most decent person, even if some people have tried to demonize her lately, maybe out of jealousy. Let’s not forget that she has the tremendous advantage of historical hindsight over us, apart from enjoying the support of some incredibly advanced technology. We may not like what she tells us, but does that mean that what she says is wrong? I personally believe that we may be wise to listen to her with an open mind.”

“To the point of changing our laws to fit her views, Mister Stimson?” replied Roosevelt. “That is what she is basically asking us to do on matters like segregation laws and the internment of Japanese in the United States. No! The people of the United States elected this government and not her. Let’s now talk about our future plans for the Pacific.”

Stimson felt disappointment at being rebuffed like this but did not insist. Admiral King, the austere, severe commander of the Navy, was next to speak, his voice forceful.

“I say that we should go for a straightforward invasion of Japan right away. The Japanese have next to nothing left in the air or on the sea to oppose us and we could attack while most of the Japanese Army is stuck in isolated garrisons around the Pacific and unable to move. Hell, we probably could take Tokyo in a week.”

“Sir, that may not be a wise move.” objected politely Admiral Nimitz, who was the subaltern of King. “The Japanese are holding tens of thousands of American and Allied prisoners around the Pacific, both military and civilians, and could massacre them in retaliation to any invasion of the Japanese main islands by us.”

“They know what would happen to them if they did that. They would not dare touch our people.” said King dismissively. “Besides, we have thousands of Japanese held here in the States who could be used as a bargaining chip.” Henry Stimson, keeping his cool with difficulty, bent forward, glaring at King.

“Admiral, you should realize two things: first, I believe that the Japanese soldiers don’t really care about either what will happen to them or what will happen to the Japanese interned in the United States; second, many of those so-called Japanese held in our camps happen to be American citizens, whether you like it or not. I always believed that interning those people, who by the way never showed any disloyalty

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towards their country of adoption, was both a big mistake and an injustice. I still think likewise right now. So, before you sacrifice both our people held by the Japanese and punish some others held by us, I would urge you to reconsider your idea about invading Japan.”

King, a stern man unaccustomed to having someone oppose him openly, was about to reply when General Marshall, the Army Chief of Staffs, cut him off.

“Admiral King, I believe that we should hold on a bit about invading Japan yet. Personally, I feel that we should concentrate first on the place where most of our former allies and of our servicemen are held in the Pacific: the Philippines. We could always blockade Japan in the meantime and let it starve into submission while we free our people.”

“I would agree with that, General.” said General Arnold, commander of the Army Air Force. “We would have however to act quickly to ensure that the Japanese in the Philippines don’t have the time or chance to harm our people there. I propose that, once our fleet is in place and about to invade the Philippines, we launch a massive airborne operation to secure the Japanese prisoners camps.”

“How long would it take us before we are ready to launch such an operation, gentlemen?” asked Roosevelt, looking around him and appearing obviously interested by Arnold’s idea. The generals and admirals discussed between themselves for a moment before Marshall looked back at the president.

“We should be ready in about three weeks, Mister President. Doing it any faster would make us take unacceptable risks.”

“Then three weeks it is, gentlemen! Now, about Europe. I say that, since Miss Laplante has decided to play kingmaker over there, we should let her run the show and wait for her to trip on her own plans when things there will blow up in her face. Then we will see who has the last laugh. Cordell, we will skip that conference in Paris: I will be damned if I support that De Gaulle and his so-called Free French.” Stimson nearly said aloud then that Laplante was certainly going to have that last laugh but managed to keep it inside himself.

17:03 (Warsaw Time)

Saturday, May 30, 1942 ‘B’

Local Time Patrol command post, Gesia Street

Warsaw Jewish Ghetto, Poland

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Jack Crawford briefly stuck his head out of the lounge used as the command post proper and shouted at George Townsend, who was relaxing with Liliana Edelman in the nearby room.

“The celebrations are on for tomorrow, guys. Nancy will arrive at ten in the morning.”

“Good! Thanks, Jack!” replied George before returning his attention to the holographic screen of the entertainment unit furnishing the room. His right arm, put around Liliana, resumed its discreet caresses, making the small but pretty Jewish female fighter purr with satisfaction. She had been watching with George the documentary made on the life of Yeshua of Nazareth and was finding it positively fascinating. Watching it while snuggled close to George made it even better. The final credits were now being displayed on the screen.

“You know, George, I am anxious to finally meet Nancy Laplante tomorrow: she seems to be such a fascinating woman. With everything she did for us and others in this war, she should be called a saint, or an angel.”

George laughed softly at that.

“Nancy, a saint? She may have earned that title in a previous life but she is no saint in this life. She likes her fun too much. Let me show you.” Grabbing the remote control of the entertainment unit, George selected one of the separate features attached to the main documentary and started playing it. Liliana read aloud the title which appeared over a picture of the Roman fortress of Antonia, in Jerusalem.

“Nauca rocks the Antonia. What does that mean, George?”

“I will let you see for yourself, Liliana.”

The meaning of the title effectively became quickly self-evident to the young Jewish woman, who reddened at one of the scenes of the feature short film: a half-naked Nancy singing and dancing on the tables of the Roman refectorium while hundreds of wild Roman soldiers cheered her on.

“Wow! A few of my male comrades would certainly love to watch this.”

“I bet they would! Don’t think however that Nancy is always like this. I worked for nearly a year for her while still in the British Army and she was a very responsible officer. She still is, in fact, more than ever.”

Liliana looked up at George, uncertainty in her eyes.

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“George, how long will you stay in Warsaw?”

“I don’t know yet, Liliana. Maybe a few more days. Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to go away from me, ever.” said the girl softly, attracting a tender look from George.

“Then, why don’t you come with me? You could enroll in the Time Patrol and have the time of your life…with me.”

“I could?”

“Why not? Liliana, you are not only a bright girl, but also a brave girl. We need people like you. Even more importantly, I need you and want you.”

“You really mean it, George?” said Liliana, close to tears. The British nodded his head.

“I do, Liliana. Come with me to the future, as my wife.”

Tears now coming out, Liliana answered George with a passionate kiss.

 

09:48 (Warsaw Time)

Sunday, May 31, 1942 ‘B’

Muranowski Square, Warsaw

Shimon Huberband, leading seven other rabbis and wearing like them a Jewish ceremonial shawl and robe, arrived a few minutes in advance of the requested time in Muranowski Square, by now well established as the landing area for ships of the Time Patrol. A group of ten armed Jewish fighters were already waiting along one side of the Square, near Jack Crawford, George Townsend, Miriam of Magdala and two other persons. Shimon smiled when he recognized the giant woman in that group and went to her, followed by his fellow rabbis.

“Miss Kano, it is a pleasure to see you again. How are you today?” There was still a bit of a haunted look in the reporter when she turned to face him and made a weak smile. She was wearing her head-mounted camera and microphone system this morning.

“Rabbi Huberband! I feel…better. And you?”

“I am fine, miss. You are here to cover the celebrations, I suppose?”

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“I am. I brought with me Mister Peter O’Neil, reporter with the London Daily Telegraph and a good friend of Nancy Laplante. He will also cover today’s events and will report on the liberation of both Warsaw and Paris.”

“Paris has been liberated too?” asked Huberband excitedly, getting a nod from Lori Kano.

“It was reoccupied by French troops yesterday. The German army units that had been occupying France are now nearly all back inside Germany.”

“That is great news indeed. I had a cousin in Paris. With any luck he and his family will be safe and free.”

“Excuse me, miss.” cut in a balding, heavily bearded man behind Huberband. “Could you tell us why we were asked to come here? We were only told that Miss Laplante would be bringing with her an old Jewish artifact that we will then escort to the Tlomackie Great Synagogue.”

Jack Crawford, listening to all this, answered for Lori.

“You will actually carry that artifact between the eight of you, Rabbi Shapiro. It is quite heavy but it is too sacred to be carried by others than Jews. Nancy Laplante will come in her best Jewish dress for the occasion.”

“Is she actually Jewish, Mister Crawford?”

“She may not be a practicing Jew but she was converted by Rabbi Yeshua in Canae in the year 30 C.E.”

“Rabbi Yeshua?” said blankly Kalunimus Kalmish Shapiro. “That name does not ring a bell to me. Should I know about him?”

“Probably!” replied Jack, smiling. “He is also known as Jesus Christ.” Shapiro and the other rabbis were left speechless for a moment. Shapiro then lowered his voice.

“You better not tell this to the Christian Poles: they would hound your Nancy Laplante endlessly if they knew that.”

“Not as much as Miriam of Magdala if they realized that she is officially one of their saints, Rabbi Shapiro.”

Shapiro nodded his head while looking at the young Galilean woman, who was by now well-known and appreciated by the people of the Ghetto. In fact, Miriam had come a few times to his house, which was also used as a synagogue, to pray. Miriam was resplendent in a beautifully embroidered robe of ancient manufacture. She was also holding a small boy of about one year of age whom he had not seen before.

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“Is this one of the orphans from the Ghetto’s Jewish orphanage, Miriam?”

“David is effectively an orphan, Rabbi Shapiro, but he is actually my son. He was in the care of another woman for the last few days while I was helping here.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Miriam. Did his father die during this war?”

“Hardly, Rabbi! Yeshua died on the cross in Jerusalem when David was still inside me.”

Shapiro became pale and stared at the little boy on hearing that.

“The son of Jesus Christ? This could start real chaos throughout Christianity if this became known.”

“We are perfectly aware of that, Rabbi.” said Jack Crawford before pointing an index at Peter O’Neil, who was about to take a picture of the child. “Mister O’Neil, as much as you are a favored friend of the Time Patrol, I will ask you to forget what you just heard. You know the consequences in England if you would publish something on David.”

“Hell, I realize that, but to blow such a story: the son of Jesus Christ. My editor would kill me if he ever learns that I didn’t tell him about this.”

“Well, it won’t be as painful as what Nancy would do to you if you blew that secret, mister. Talking of the Devil, here is her shuttlecraft.”

Looking all skyward, they were in time to see a light shuttlecraft on its final approach to the marked landing area. It landed smoothly less than fifteen meters from their group, with its rear access ramp opening soon afterwards. Nancy Laplante, dressed in an ancient Jewish robe and headscarf, got out and signaled the rabbis to approach before going back inside. The eight rabbis, dying with curiosity, walked quickly to the foot of the ramp, where they were able to look inside the shuttlecraft. All of them immediately went to their knees, a few of them suddenly dizzy from the rush of blood to their head.

“IT…IT CAN’T BE!” shouted Huberband, attracting at a run the ten Jewish fighters nearby, who thought that something had gone wrong. They braked to a halt and also knelt after seeing what was inside the shuttle. Zivia Lubetkin bent her head, unable to believe her eyes.

“Dear God! The Ark of the Covenant.”

Nancy, who was sliding in place the two gold-plated carrying poles in the hooks on the side of the priceless artifact, raised her voice to take the Jews out of their trance.

“It is the Ark of the Covenant, gentlemen, but it won’t get to the Great Synagogue if you stay on your knees like this.”

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Shimon Huberband wiped sweat from his forehead as he got up on his feet and climbed the ramp of the shuttlecraft.

“Miss Laplante, I will always owe you for giving me such an honor as carrying the Ark. How did you get it?”

“The Time Patrol replaced it with a replica in the Temple of Solomon just before it was occupied and looted by Egyptian raiders after King Solomon’s death. One day, it will be brought back to Jerusalem, that I promise solemnly.”

“May God bless you for that, Miss Laplante.” said Shapiro fervently. Nancy gave him a mysterious look.

“He already did, Rabbi. You will have to be careful when lifting the Ark: it is quite heavy, apart from being irreplaceable. You wouldn’t want to drop it and damage it.”

“May God save me from such a curse, miss.” replied Shapiro, meaning it. He and the seven other rabbis then took position, four to the left of the Ark and four to the right. Grabbing the carrying poles, they synchronized their moves and lifted the Ark to their shoulders. As the rabbis went slowly and cautiously down the ramp, Nancy shouted at the Jewish fighters.

“Zivia, have your fighters form an escort on each side of the Ark. We are going to the Tlomackie Great Synagogue.”

Beaming with pride, the seven men and three women formed up around the Ark and accompanied the rabbis at a slow pace, their rifles slung. The procession then left the square, followed closely by Nancy and Miriam, walking south towards the Great Synagogue. The Jewish people either present in the streets or on the balconies above the route followed by the procession fell to their knees one after the other as the Ark passed by them. Lori Kano and Peter O’Neil, following from a respectful distance, filmed and photographed all this, themselves feeling the great solemnity of the moment. As the procession progressed towards its goal, a growing crowd of praying Jews fell behind it. By the time the Ark was brought inside the Great Synagogue of Warsaw, over 20,000 people were close behind it, quickly packing the building to capacity and overflowing it.

Once inside, the eight rabbis carried the Ark to near the niche containing the sacred scrolls of the Torah and set the artifact down slowly. As they stood there, unsure what to do next, Nancy went to the chief rabbi, who was kneeling nearby and praying.

“Rabbi, I would need two large cushions, to put them in front of the Ark of the Covenant. Could you get them quickly?”

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“Certainly, miss!” replied humbly the man before getting up and walking quickly towards his office. He was back a few minutes later with two large red cushions, which Nancy took and then carefully positioned in front of the Ark. Next, she approached the Ark and stood a mere pace from it before speaking to the rabbis watching her.

“I will now use my mental powers to open the lid of the Ark. I want you to then take very cautiously the tablets of the Law inside and to lay them on the cushions. Be very careful: the tablets are extremely fragile.”

“God, oh God, guide my hands!” prayed fervently Huberband as Nancy concentrated and the lid of the Ark started rising slowly in the air apparently by itself. The congregation of Jews watching this all knelt at the sight, whispered exclamations coming from all corners of the crowd. Once the golden lid with its two cherubim was floating a good meter above the Ark, Huberband and three other rabbis bent over and slowly grabbed the two engraved stone tablets inside, taking them out and laying them gently on the cushions. Only after sighing in deep relief did Huberband kneel to examine the tablets. They truly looked very old, with the Hebrew writing on them showing extensive erosion from both time and the elements. The ten commandments of the Law were indeed written down on the stone tablets. Huberband felt unprecedented humility and devotion as he read silently the ancient Hebrew letters. Once the Ark’s lid floated down back in place and the eight rabbis stood to one side with Nancy Laplante and Miriam of Magdala, the chief rabbi initiated a series of prayers to thank God and to honor the dead. After the last prayer, he looked at Nancy while stepping back from his lectern.

“Miss Laplante, as the person who saved the sacred Ark of the Covenant and saved so many of us from death, would you like to address the congregation?” Nancy bowed while answering in Hebrew.

“I would be honored, Rabbi Zemba.”

Walking to the lectern and taking place behind it, Nancy then spoke up in Hebrew again, since she didn’t know Yiddish nor Polish and didn’t want to use German on such an occasion.

“Fellow men and women, the reason I brought the Ark of the Covenant here was to give you hope for the future, hope for a better life for you and your children. I may not be a practicing Jew, or even a practicing Christian as a matter of fact, but I had the chance to have a close encounter with a superior being I call ‘The One’ and to have communicated with him a few times since then. The One is neither Jewish, Christian nor Muslim: He is there for all of us on this Earth and his message is one of peace, love and

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tolerance. He loves us all, especially those most innocent ones among us: our children. After I am finished speaking, I will ask you to form two single files along the central aisle, so that you can briefly approach the Ark and touch it. Before that, though, I will ask the sick and the wounded to form a line in the middle of the central aisle, children first, where I will use the healing powers The One gave me in the past. I will ask the rabbis and Jewish fighters who brought and escorted the Ark here to organize the processions and keep order during this most solemn occasion, when you will be able to touch part of your faith. After this ceremony, you are all invited to the Muranowski Square, where a feast is being prepared to celebrate this joyous day. I will now finish this speech with a solemn promise: one day soon, the Ark will be brought back to Jerusalem, where it will regain a place of prominence as a sacred artifact. The sick and the wounded may now form up in the central aisle.”

Nancy then walked away from the lectern, heading to a position ten paces in front of the Ark, facing the central aisle. The first patient who came to her was a small boy of about six who walked with a pair of crutches. Nancy smiled gently to him, caressing his head.

“What is your name, little one? What is the nature of your wound?”

“My name is Jacob, miss. A German soldier smashed my left knee a few weeks ago. Can you help me?”

“Of course I can, Jacob. Please sit down, so I can examine your knee.” As the boy sat, Nancy noticed that many more children were already lined up behind Jacob. She felt discouragement for a moment, knowing how draining healing was on her. She however resolved to give everything she had to her present task and, pulling up the boy’s left trouser leg, applied her hands to his knee and concentrated. Exclamations of surprise and awe came from the two files of worshippers passing by her to go touch the Ark as her hands glowed lightly for a minute. More exclamations came out when little Jacob, transported with joy, got up without the help of his crutches and hugged Nancy happily.

“My knee doesn’t hurt anymore. You are an angel.”

“No, Jacob: I am only a woman. Go see the Ark with your parents now.” An old man who had watched the healing bowed and spoke with a tone of respect.

“The Hand of God! She is The Hand of God!”

Soon, most of the worshippers were repeating this, making Nancy blush with modesty. Trying to ignore the comments around her, she concentrated totally on healing one by one the long line of waiting children. After the seventh patient, she had to stop for a

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moment, mentally exhausted by her efforts. Looking down the line of children, she saw that over a hundred of them were still waiting for her care. Tears of discouragement came to her eyes.

“Great One, there is so much to do and only so much I can do.” A powerful voice then echoed inside her head.

“Do not lose faith, Natai, as I am with you. Stand up and be one with me.”

Watched by the curious worshippers, who had not heard the message she had just received, she stood up and closed her eyes while extending her arms out. A column of intense white light then came through the roof of the synagogue without damaging it, landing squarely on Nancy and bathing her in its light. Nancy herself soon started emitting an increasingly bright light while she levitated off the ground, until no one could look directly at her. A silent explosion of light then burst out of her, radiating outward at hypersonic speed. The expanding wall of light simply went through the persons present, without knocking them down but bathing them in light as well for a few seconds before the light faded away. The frightened Jews inside the synagogue then saw that Nancy was still floating a few meters in the air and radiating light, her eyes closed as if sleeping. Exclamations and shouts then started coming from the ones who had been waiting to be healed by her. Rabbi Menahem Zemba, getting over his surprise, ran to them and saw that all of them now appeared perfectly healthy. An old man who had been sitting away from the aisle took out his thick glasses and looked around with bewilderment.

“My eyes! They are as good as when I was young.”

Rabbi Zemba soon understood from the reactions of the people inside the synagogue that everyone present was now in perfect health, even the survivors from the death camps, who had been barely more than skin and bones. Those now looked much stronger, with their cheeks full and their back straight. Overwhelmed by all this, Zemba looked up at Nancy Laplante, who was still floating in the air and radiating light.

“She really is The Hand of God. May God be praised for sending her.”

In Muranowski Square, Jack Crawford was talking with General Grot-Rowecki, head of the Polish Home Army, while a small army of Polish volunteers, both Jews and Catholics, were busy preparing the public feast announced for the early afternoon by the Time Patrol. A shout of alarm from Natia Mindicor made him turn around while grabbing his rifle. He barely had time to see an approaching wall of energy before it went right

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through him and the others in the square. Shaking his head quickly to regain control of himself, he turned around again and watched the giant wall of energy as it swept outward, apparently in the process of covering the whole of Warsaw.

“What the hell was that?” he asked himself. “It came from inside the Ghetto.” Shouts of surprise from a number of people around the square then made him realize that something very big had just happened.

On the scoutship LATIN STING, flying east of Warsaw and over the Polish-Soviet border, a sudden alarm made Samuel Goldman look at his sensors. What he saw made him shout with urgency to Carmen Sanchez, sitting behind him in her pilot’s seat.

“An energy shockwave is approaching the border, originating from Warsaw.”

“What? What kind of energy? Is it a nuclear blast?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think that this is a nuclear strike. I see no destruction in its path.”

Both watched, fascinated, as the wall of energy finally died down and disappeared after sweeping across the border. Samuel shook his head with disbelief.

“Whatever it was, it covered a radius of just over 400 kilometers out from Warsaw. Nearly the whole of Poland was covered by it.”

“Well, it looks like it’s time to contact our team in Warsaw.” said Carmen, activating her radio.

The horse-drawn carts and wagons of the field hospital from one of the divisions of the German Fourth Army had just crossed the border, heading slowly towards Germany through Poland with its load of wounded soldiers, when the wall of energy swept through them. Their convoy was only one of many German convoys retreating back from the Eastern front, pursued by vengeful Soviet troops. Only the sacrifice of the German panzer divisions, including those from the Waffen-SS, who were fighting to provide a covering screen to the rest of the German units, had made possible the escape of most of the Wehrmacht troops from the Soviet Union. The Germans in the medical convoy, doctors, nurses and patients alike, counted themselves lucky to be still alive. Seeing the wall of energy approaching fast, the drivers of the wagon tried to turn around their horses in a reflexive but futile attempt to escape it. When it passed through them and proved to be harmless, the Germans looked at each other with total

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incomprehension. One of the drivers looked at the nurse sitting beside him in the front bench seat of his wagon.

“What the hell was that, Fraulein Hirsh?”

“I don’t know, Corporal. Let me just check quickly on the wounded in the back.” Before the nurse could get inside the wagon, screams of joy came out, soon followed by one of the wounded, who stuck his head out and looked at Anna Hirsh while grinning. His face, which had sported ugly burns the last time she had checked him last night, was now intact, its skin smooth.

“IT’S A MIRACLE! SOMETHING JUST HEALED ALL OF US INSIDE!”

“Mein Gott!” could only whisper the nurse, close to passing out.

In the Great Synagogue of Warsaw, Rabbi Zemba watched in respectful silence for a good two minutes while Nancy Laplante hovered above him. She finally floated down to the ground and stopped glowing as her feet touched the floor. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around her slowly at the Jews staring at him. She appeared like one who had just awakened from a nice dream and there was an air of revelation on her face. Zemba kneeled in front of her and, taking her right hand, kissed it.

“You are The Hand of God and we will obey you, all of us. What do you wish of us?”

She stared down at him, unsure at first how to react to what had just happened to her. She finally swallowed hard and spoke in Hebrew.

“I wish to be considered as a simple woman, Rabbi Zemba. The One did the work here. What I would like from you all, though, is to go celebrate in Muranowski Square after you have paid your respects to the Ark of the Covenant. Today should be a day of happiness for all.”

“Will you do us the honor of accompanying us to the feast, miss?”

“I will, soon, but I have to do something in London before. I will be back, I promise.”

Nancy then flew off again, without glowing this time, then disappeared in a flash of white light. Peter O’Neil and Lori Kano, who had watched and filmed all this from a corner of the synagogue, looked at each other with awe.

“My editor will never believe me until he sees my photographs.” said weakly the British journalist. Lori nodded her head at that, thinking the same about her own editor.

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“Mine as well. I think that Nancy just got up another notch in her personal evolution. She will be more powerful than ever now, but it will probably be for the good of all. I hate to think about what an evil person could do with her powers.”

08:56 (GMT)

Tower ALPHA

R.A.F. Air Station Northolt

England

Farah Tolkonen ‘A’ switched off her videophone, having just received a number of frantic reports from both her team in Warsaw and from the scoutship LATIN STING, then sat back in her chair while trying to make sense out of all this. One thing became quickly clear to her, though: The One was involved in this. This latest intervention was however of a scope and power hard to imagine, let alone believe. She was definitely going to have to talk again with Nancy concerning The One. The problem was that no one knew where Nancy was right now. As Farah pivoted her chair to look outside through the large windows of her office, a burst of intense white light exploded inside the refugee camp set up for the survivors brought from German concentration camps. A bright wall of energy then swept the whole of the airfield in a second, passing through the Tower ALPHA and Farah’s office before continuing to expand outward. Tears of joy then came to Farah’s face: she now knew where Nancy was and what she had just done. The Hand of The One had struck again.

12:37 (Warsaw Time)

Muranowski Square, Warsaw Ghetto

Poland

Mike Crawford hesitated for a second before approaching Nancy, who was speaking with a delegation from the Polish government which nearly surrounded her: he just wasn’t sure if she was the same person than before her latest supernatural experience. Some would have even questioned if she were a person at all now. What convinced him was when she turned her head and saw him, then flashed a big smile. She excused herself with the Polish officials and came to him, hugging and kissing him

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passionately. His doubts melting away, Mike returned her kisses in kind, then looked in her sparkling green eyes.

“Nancy, I must be the luckiest man in the world, for having you. How do you feel?”

“Better than ever, Mike. My latest contact with The One was like touching paradise.”

“How…different are you now?”

Nancy took the time to caress his face before answering, her expression now sober.

“The One boosted my powers of healing to an incredible level and I can now communicate more readily with him, but I am otherwise the same person, Mike. My other powers have not changed and I am still a woman made of flesh and bones. I will now be able to truly help people in need in this war. I see that Farah came with you. Do you mind if I go speak with her for a moment?”

“Go right ahead, baby.”

They kissed again before Nancy unglued herself from Mike and went to Farah ‘A’, who had been patiently waiting a few paces away. Both women exchanged a hug before Nancy spoke.

“Don’t worry about me, Farah: apart of my powers of healing, I am still the same perverted Nancy you know.”

“That is nice to know, Nancy. I was actually a bit worried about finding some kind of immaterial angel in your place. Did you know that your healing burst in Northolt reached all the way past Paris? That, along with what you did here, is going to impact heavily on how the people will look at you.”

“Farah, that must be the understatement of the year. Jews and Catholics alike already call me ‘The Hand of God’ here in Warsaw. In fact, that title describes pretty well what I am now: someone through which The One can help people in need. True, that will probably cause crowds to form everywhere I go, asking to be healed or expecting some other miracle, but it will be a small price to pay in view of the good I can do now.”

“The Hand of God…” said slowly Farah while staring at her friend. “And what do you intend to do next?”

“Farah, you are still the chief administrator of the Time Patrol: I don’t intend to take any decisions without consulting you, powers or no powers.” Farah relaxed at those words: at least, Nancy’s new powers had not gone to her head.

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“Alright, tell me as my chief of operations what we should do next, now that the war is all but over.”

“It is mostly over in Europe, Farah, but not in the Pacific. There are still hundreds of thousands of people suffering and dying in Japanese prisoners camps. We should concentrate now on helping those poor souls.”

“I concur! When do you intend to resume operations in the Pacific, Nancy?”

“Tonight! My plan is already thought over. It is a very simple one but it will involve a sizeable portion of our force of combat robots. You may want to alert our robotics technicians to be ready for some new programming to be loaded into our robots this evening.”

“I will pass the word. What will you do in the meantime?”

“Eat and drink, of course!” answered Nancy jovially, her arms sweeping around to show to Farah the huge crowd of Jews and Poles filling the square and enjoying the food served at the many grills and tables set around the square. Polish and Jewish volunteers mingled with caterers from the Global Council, busy roasting the huge quantities of meat and potatoes being consumed and serving wine from a dozen big kegs brought in by shuttlecraft. The happy faces and laughter around the square were like a balm to Nancy’s heart, who had seen too much sadness and suffering during the last few days.

“Would you like to join us for the feast, Farah?”

The scientist smiled as she looked around her.

“Why not? Seeing some happiness will do me good.”

Collecting Mike Crawford first, Nancy then led Farah towards one of the big charcoal-fueled barbecue grills, from which an appetizing smell of roasted meat came. Farah and Mike were quick to notice how the people in their path respectfully stepped out of Nancy’s way, many bowing to her. Nancy smiled to all of them, returning the bows. What truly surprised Farah was that the two men from the Global Council manning the grill bowed as well to Nancy, showing the same kind of religious reverence than the Jews and Poles. Farah was thinking about what this new trend could mean to the Global Council when Nancy asked her a question.

“Chicken leg or breast, Farah?”

“Uh, leg, please.”

Nancy soon handed her a plastic plate with chicken and potatoes in it, along with a set of plastic utensils. Thanking Nancy, Farah went to sit at a nearby folding table and started

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eating while looking around her. Everybody seemed to have a mighty good time, with the children in particular eating as much as they could of the things they had seen so little of for so many months. She then saw George Townsend, holding the hand of a young woman armed with a rifle, approach her. There was some nervousness visible on his face as he stopped in front of Farah.

“Farah, this is Liliana Edelman, a member of the Ghetto defense militia. We have become very close to each other in the last few days and I would like your permission to be able to bring her with me to the future, whenever that becomes possible. Liliana is also interested in joining the Time Patrol. She is a very brave girl and I am sure that she would make a good field agent.”

Farah examined with interest the pretty girl, who had relatively short black hair, brown eyes and appeared to be around twenty years of age. Her face reflected both intelligence and character.

“Liliana, you should know that being a field agent is a lifelong commitment. You may not be coming back to this century for a long while once we leave for the future.”

“I know, Doctor Tolkonen. George explained to me what it meant to be a field agent of the Time Patrol. I however have no family left alive, so I won’t be missing this time much.”

“Are you ready to work with members of the Time Patrol who are German, Liliana?”

There was only a slight hesitation in the girl’s answer.

“Yes, I am. George showed me pictures of your German agents helping to liberate the inmates from the concentration camps. I am ready to work with persons of any nationality, as long as they are decent people.”

“Excellent! Liliana, consider yourself now an apprentice of the Time Patrol. Make your goodbyes to your friends this afternoon: you will be leaving with me for our base in England at four O’clock.”

Liliana shouted her joy before hugging and kissing George, who smiled to Farah.

“Thank you, Farah! This means a lot to me.”

“I know! May you have a happy life together.”

As the couple walked away, Farah went to Nancy to tell her about them. Nancy was however already following them with her eyes, a smile on her face.

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“No need to tell me, Farah: I heard it all telepathically. Liliana will make an excellent agent. She will also make George a happy man, something he richly deserves. Now, let’s have some fun. Do you want some red wine?”

03:17 (Manila Time)

Tuesday, June 2, 1942 ‘B’

Japanese prisoner of war camp Cabanatuan Number 3 104 kilometers north of Manila, Island of Luzon

Philippines, Southwest Pacific

The loud noise of automatic gunfire and explosions made Lieutenant James Parker wake up with a startle in the dark of his bamboo long hut. Struggling to clear his mind and focus his eyes, he saw that the other prisoners crowding the stinking hut were all awake, which was not surprising in view of the heavy firing going on outside the hut. The Army Air Corps fighter pilot, wearing like the army soldiers of his hut the dirty rags that had once been his uniform, stepped out of the sleeping platform he shared with over sixty men, intent on having a peep outside. He was standing in the central alley of the hut and about to walk to the nearest door when it crashed open. Freezing where he was and ready to lie back on the sleeping platform, Parker then saw a fantastic silhouette enter the hut. He swallowed hard when he realized that it was flying silently just above the floor, instead of walking. He also soon saw that the thing, as it was obviously not a man, didn’t have legs either, having instead a pair of rubber tracks at the base of its boxy body. Now frozen with stupor, he watched helplessly as the thing floated towards him and came to a stop three paces in front of him. A male voice then came out of the machine.

“Are there Japanese soldiers in this hut?”

“Uh, no, just Americans. What are you?”

“A combat robot of the Time Patrol sent to deliver you. Please stay inside your hut until all firing has stopped. The Japanese garrison is being eliminated right now. You will be evacuated back to the United States once all the guards are dead.”

“Wait! What is this…Time Patrol? Is there someone inside you?”

“The Time Patrol comes from the 34th century and is led by Nancy Laplante. I am a machine with artificial intelligence. There is nobody inside me. Now, let me complete my sweep.”

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Stunned, Parker stood aside and let the machine fly past him. It soon crashed through the rear door of the hut and left, leaving the Americans inside to look at each other with consternation.

“What is this wizardry?” exclaimed an army corporal who, like the others, was barely skin and bones. “Did it mean Laplante, the Canadian time traveler who died in 1941?”

“Who else could it be?” replied James Parker, who happened to be the highest-ranking prisoner in the hut. “Do you know many time travelers apart from her, Corporal? Alright, everybody down on the floor. There seems to be a lot of bullets flying around right now.”

The prisoners didn’t have to be told twice, as the battle outside sounded quite fierce. As quickly as their weak, starving bodies allowed them, the Americans lay down on the floor, hoping that no stray fire would hit their hut.

The firing slowed down quickly after only a couple of minutes and then dying down completely after less than ten minutes. Raising his head, James Parker listened carefully for a moment, then smiled.

“Whoever attacked the camp worked fast: I can’t hear anyone shooting now. Stay down while I go see outside what is going on.”

Going to the front door of the hut, James looked cautiously outside. With the moonlight, he was able to see fairly well down the alley separating the rows of huts. While he didn’t see a single Japanese soldier, he saw dozens of machines on tracks similar to the one that had entered his hut earlier on. The machines seemed to be doing a detailed sweep of the camp, as if to make sure that no Japanese soldier was hiding somewhere. James suddenly tensed up: a silhouette had just walked from behind a hut and was now advancing calmly down the alley, what looked like a machinegun in its hands. The stranger, who wore a weird helmet and a bulky vest, then gave a few orders to a number of robots in a language that vaguely sounded like English, sending the robots away on some task. What caught his attention then was the fact that the stranger had a female voice. Deciding to take his chances, James got out of the hut and, his hands raised high, walked slowly towards the woman, who had stopped at his sight and pointed her weapon at him.

“Don’t shoot! I’m an American!”

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To James’ relief, the woman lowered her weapon at once and let him approach her. He soon stopped two paces in front of her and lowered his hands. The woman was a tall one, being over 180 centimeter-high.

“I am Lieutenant James Parker. I spoke earlier on to one of your machines. Are you really going to repatriate us to the United States?”

“We are, Mister Parker.” answered the woman before offering her right hand, which James shook. “Nancy Laplante, from the Time Patrol. Could you direct me to the Zero Ward?”

James nodded his head grimly: the Zero Ward was what passed as a medical ward in the camp. In reality, it was a hellhole where the sick and wounded who were too weak to work were sent to die slowly of starvation and neglect. Nobody ever came back from the Zero Ward. Obviously, the place’s notoriety had made it to the history books if a woman from the future knew about it.

“I know too well where it is, miss. Follow me!”

Prisoners were now starting to come cautiously out of the huts as he guided Laplante towards a separate compound of the camp. They walked through a barbed wire gate that had been blown away and entered the long bamboo hut in the center of the compound. The woman immediately stopped and covered her nose and mouth when hit by the stench from the dying men’s vomit and excrements. James thought for a moment that she would throw up but she steeled herself and slowly walked between the twin rows of skeleton-like prisoners, most of them naked and smeared with their own wastes. James himself had a hard time not to become sick at both the smell and the sight. Laplante suddenly stopped in front of a tall man too weak to get up and spoke to him in a voice broken by sobs.

“Ken? … Major Ken Dows? … Is that you?”

“Nancy?” replied the man in a weak, barely audible voice, prompting Laplante to quickly kneel besides him. She gently took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead while crying openly.

“Ken… My god! What have they done to you?”

What Laplante did next baffled Parker: gently putting down the sick man’s head, she got up and looked skyward while spreading her arms outward.

“Please help me save these unfortunate souls, Great One.” Before James could ask her what she was doing, a silent burst of intense white light erupted from Laplante and spread out, going through the walls of the hut without

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damaging them. James felt a marvelous sensation of strength flow through his body when the wave of light went through and past him. His constant hunger pains also disappeared at that precise moment. Blinking in surprise, James then felt his hair rise on his head: the previously skeletal prisoners of the Zero Ward now had healthy-looking bodies and were getting up by themselves hesitantly, unable to believe what had just happened. They were still naked, dirty and stinky, though. That didn’t stop Laplante from exchanging a tearful hug with Major Dows.

“Ken, I am so happy to have been able to save you. Wait until Mike hears that you are alive.”

“Nancy, how did you do what you just did? That was nothing short of a miracle.” She looked at him gravely and caressed his face.

“It was actually a miracle, Ken, a miracle made possible by The One. He both saved me in 1941 and gave me some powers, including that of healing.”

“Who is The One?” said Dows, sounding incredulous. “Are you talking about God?”

“No! The One is not God as you would define him, but he is very powerful, while also being kind and compassionate.”

She then pointed a hand at Dows, who suddenly started floating off the floor, making him wave his arms and legs frantically.

“Hey! What is happening to me?”

“I am lifting you through telekinesis, one of the mental powers I got from The One. Do you believe me now, Ken?”

Yes, yes! Now, put me down, please.”

She lowered her hand, making Dows float back down to the floor. All the Americans present, including James Parker, stared in awed disbelief at Laplante, who pointed at the door of the hut.

“Let’s get out of here, will you? The stench inside is unbearable.” Seeing one of the Americans timidly hide his genitals from her, she gave him a dubious look.

“Mister, me and my people have recently emptied all the German concentration camps in Europe and have seen our share of naked and dead people. Don’t worry about me raping you.”

That made Ken Dows laugh for a second.

“You are still worthy of your nickname of ‘Dirty Nancy’, as I can see.”

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“Damn right you are, Ken. I may have some powers given by The One but he didn’t turn me into a prudish angel for that.”

As they emerged from the stinking hut, Dows put a hand on Nancy’s shoulder, stopping her.

“Nancy, irrespective of how you did this, I owe you my life. Consider me in your debt.”

Nancy looked into Dows’ eyes with something approaching love: she had known him for nearly a year while in London between 1940 and 1941 and they had been good friends there. Dows, as a neutral officer, had also helped care for the young German women held as prisoners of war in the Tower of London, in which role he had proved to have a heart of gold.

“Ken, there is an easy way you can repay your debt: come with me and join my organization. This war is about over anyway, with the Japanese Navy and Air Force already decimated by my Time Patrol. I could use such a man as you. Some of the girls from the Tower of London would also love to see you work for me. Were you planning to stay in the Marine Corps after the war?”

“Uh, I don’t know. A few minutes ago, I was busy dying, remember?”

“Please, Ken, consider my offer seriously: I can offer you a fantastic life through time alongside some good people. Mike and Ingrid would be so happy to have you with us.”

“They are with you?”

“Of course, Ken! They are my family after all. So, what do you say?”

“Hell, Nancy, your offer is tempting indeed. Could you let me think on this for a few minutes?”

“Make it quick, Ken: the evacuation ship will soon land to pick you all up.”

“Uh, would you be interested in a poor army fighter pilot, miss?” cut in cautiously James Parker. “I’m afraid that returning to my old job of crop-dusting after the war won’t be too exciting to me.”

Nancy examined him carefully, helped in this by the night vision system integrated to the visor of her helmet. Parker was a handsome man standing about 180 centimeters, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was probably no older than 26. Nancy finally presented her right hand.

“Consider yourself in, with the provision that you pass the aptitude tests, of course.”

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“But I am fit, miss.”

“I am thinking about the psychological profile test mostly, Lieutenant. I need people with an open mind and without racial prejudices.”

“Miss, I may come from Southern Virginia but I am no redneck.”

“We will see, Lieutenant.”

That was when a group of about five men approached Nancy, soon stopping in front of her. They wore uniforms that were in slightly better shape than most of the other prisoners, who were half naked or, in the case of Ken Dows, totally naked. The man in the lead looked with reprobation at Dows, standing next to Nancy.

“Major, you could at least try to find something to wear instead of standing like this in front of a lady.”

“If I may, General Wainwright.” cut in Nancy politely. “Major Dows was about to die when I found him a few minutes ago inside the Zero Ward. He also happens to be a good friend of mine. As for offending my morality, I could show you a few tricks about strip-dancing, General. By the way, I am Nancy Laplante, Chief of Operations of the Time Patrol. My organization comes from the 34th century.” Wainwright stared at her with disbelief.

“The 34th century? You must be joking, miss?”

“Never when freeing dying men, General. A ship will land soon to pick you up and repatriate all of you to the United States.”

“What about the Japanese? They could launch a counter-attack soon. Could your…machines hold them at bay?”

“They easily could, but it won’t be necessary: there are no Japanese soldiers left alive around this camp. Within a few hours, the same will be true about the whole of the Philippines. I have 8,000 such combat robots and six ships actually engaged in a systematic sweep around the Philippines, with orders to kill any Japanese soldier they find. As we speak, the various Japanese prisoners camps in the Philippines are being liberated by my agents and robots, including Camp O’Donnell, where your surviving soldiers from Bataan were held.”

Wainwright grinned at these news.

“Excellent! Uh, could you tell me what the hell happened a few minutes ago? Is the wall of light I saw some kind of medical invention from the future?”

“No, General: I was the source of that wall of light. My healing pulse was targeted at the whole of the Philippines. Right now, every person on this island is in

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perfect health, save for the Japanese, of course: my healing energy is useless on dead people.”

“What are you talking about, miss? You don’t make much sense to me.”

“You will see for yourself soon, General. If you will excuse me for a moment, I must get things going here.”

Nancy then activated her helmet microphone, watched by the Americans around her.

“TEEN TEAM, this is the bitch! You can land in the camp with your load of food and water. There will also be people who will seriously need the use of a shower.”

“TEEN TEAM understood, out!”

Nancy next had thirty of her robots cordon off the parade ground of the camp, so that the TEEN TEAM could have space free of people to land. The scoutship soon landed silently with its navigation lights on, watched by the incredulous Americans.

“Hell, if somebody would have told me that he saw something like this, I would have charged him for drunkenness.” exclaimed Wainwright. “This thing is however way too small to carry us all, miss. There are over 10,000 men in this camp.”

“It is not intended to transport your men, General: a much larger ship will follow it. This scoutship is simply bringing some supplies of food in. By the way, the Filipino troops in this camp will not be shipped out: they will stay in the Philippines after being given food and water. They will also be able to use the Japanese weapons captured in this camp. Our plan is to kill all the Japanese in the Philippines, evacuate all the American and Allied prisoners and leave the islands in the hands of the Filipinos.”

“And then, what are you planning to do, you and your Time Patrol?” Nancy gave the general a resolute look as she answered him.

“Then, we will kill all the other Japanese soldiers stationed outside of Japan and free the rest of the Allied prisoners, both military and civilian. The Japanese Army’s conduct through this war, especially in China, has been simply too barbaric to be forgiven. Japan itself will not be invaded but it will lose its army and it will have to publicly apologize to the rest of the world for what it did. If it doesn’t, then it will pay an even heavier price.”

Wainwright was struck by the rage contained in Nancy’s voice.

“You did not personally suffer at the hands of the Japanese, miss, yet you seem to take a very personal view of this.”

“General, I am simply sickened by all the atrocities that were committed in this war. Also, I know about things that the Japanese did, both during and after the war, that

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you can’t possibly know about. I do not hate the Japanese people, far from it. What I want to erase is the militaristic and xenophobic mentality of their leaders which made all the atrocities around the Pacific possible. Once I am finished with them, the Japanese will not be able to think of themselves anymore as a superior race entitled to treat all others like inferior beings. Then, and only then, there will be peace.” Wainwright saw in her eyes that she meant every word of what she had said. Considering the kind of technology at her disposal, the Japanese were most probably in for a lot of hurt. That was however something he could live with easily. Looking at the landed ship, which was presenting its rear to him, he saw a big cargo ramp lower to the ground, showing the inside of a spacious cargo bay. Five female silhouettes, one a true giant, stood at the top of the ramp. The four smaller women then walked down the ramp and went to Nancy, Wainwright and the officers around them while the giant woman went to sit at the controls of what looked like a heavy forklift parked inside the cargo bay. One of the women, a beautiful teenager, stopped and stared at Ken Dows for a second before running to him, joy on her face.

“Major Dows? It’s me, Ingrid!”

“Ingrid? Ingrid Weiss?”

Both exchanged a hug for a second before Ingrid pulled away, pinching her nose.

“Phew! Ken, you do need a very serious shower.”

“I know, believe me. Nancy saved me and those six other men here from the hell of Zero Ward. You are more beautiful than ever, Ingrid. How are the other girls from the Tower of London doing?”

Ingrid gave him a sober look.

“Mostly well, Ken. Some are in Germany, while many, like me, are part of the Time Patrol. Lisa Hartmann, Barbara Holzberg and Martha Pfalz are dead, though.”

“Damn, I am truly sorry to hear that, Ingrid.”

Nancy then cut in on the conversation, as there was a lot to do and little time to do it.

“I hate to cut your reunion like this, guys, but we have things to do. Ingrid, could you escort Ken and these six other men to the showers inside your scoutship and provide them with clothes from our emergency reserves?” Nancy then added a silent mental message meant only for Ingrid. The teenager nodded discreetly, then led Ken and the six others inside the scoutship. On his part, General Wainwright was eyeing with surprise one of the three other women, which was wearing a dirty American Army nurse’s uniform.

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“Nurse, what are you doing in that ship?”

“I volunteered to help the Time Patrol help our men, sir. Second Lieutenant Frankie Lewey, sir. I was held with other nurses in Santo Tomas University campus, in Manila. The Time Patrol freed us a few hours ago. The other nurses who were in Corregidor are now in the heavy cargo ship of the Time Patrol, helping with the evacuation of camp O’Donnell.”

Wainwright, close to tears, looked at Nancy.

“Thank you truly, miss, for all that you are doing for us. The United States will be in your debt for this.”

To his surprise, Nancy made a wry smile at his words.

“Maybe, General. I will have to explain something to you later on.” She then addressed the three women besides her.

“Colette, Tatiana, Frankie, we will start distributing the food and water to the Filipino troops as soon as Xinia has taken out all the pallets. Tatiana, you will be in charge of the distribution.”

“Consider it done, Nancy. Come on, girls!”

As the three women went to the first pallet unloaded by the technician driving the forklift, Nancy called in the command combat robot leading the other machines present in the camp. The robot rolled to a stop two paces from Nancy, its weapons turret pointed upward and away.

“Unit 3540, at your command!”

“Unit 3540, take twenty of your units and provide a crowd control barrier to Tatiana Korbut’s team. Only stun rifles and riot prods are to be used and only if absolutely necessary. Go!”

Nancy then turned towards Wainwright, who was looking with fascination as the intimidating machine pivoted and rolled away.

“Excuse me for this, General, but I must take some precautions here: I am not sure that all of your men will wait their turn when they see that we are distributing food.”

“You don’t need to excuse yourself, miss. I am a realist and I know for a fact that there were instances in the past of some of my rear area troops stealing rations meant for frontline troops before our surrender to the Japanese. By the way, those machines truly amaze me. Hell, they sound as intelligent as some of my soldiers.” Nancy couldn’t help laugh at that.

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“True enough, General. They also never get drunk or become scared. In many ways, they are the perfect soldiers. Could I now ask you to have your Filipino troops line up near the pallets unloaded from my scoutship?”

“Sure! Major Tracy, have the Filipino troops line up as requested by Miss Laplante. Make sure that our other troops don’t try to get at the food before their turn.”

“Yes sir!” replied the officer before collecting a number of junior officers and senior NCOs and leaving Wainwright alone with Nancy, who then spoke in a low volume.

“General, about the relations between the Time Patrol and your country, you should know about this…”

She then spent a few minutes telling him about the events which had unfolded in Pearl Harbor and the tense state of relations between herself and Washington. Wainwright listened in silence, giving her a puzzled look at the end of her explanation.

“You really have different priorities and outlooks than ours, miss. However, you are in the process of saving the men of my command from a long agony, and for that I will be eternally grateful to you and to your people. I do not pretend to understand much about politics but your goals seem laudable enough to me. I sincerely hope that our mutual relations will improve soon, miss.”

“I do too, General, but I’m not holding my breath for this. Ending this war quickly will be a good enough accomplishment by itself for me.”

“I will second you on that, miss.”

They watched for the next half hour as the over 3,000 Filipino soldiers who had been held in Cabanatuan were given each a bag with carrying sling, a few tins of meat or fish, a few granola bars and two plastic bottles full of water. Nancy then had Wainwright tell their officers to have them collect the weapons and ammunition from the dead Japanese around the camp. Those were enough to arm about 240 of the Filipinos. While those soldiers were organized into two infantry companies. The rest of the food and water was then distributed to the American ex-prisoners. To Wainwright’s

embarrassment and anger, that part of the distribution was much less controlled than with the Filipinos, with a large group of American troopers breaking rank and trying to push their way to the pallets of supplies to serve themselves. The three women doing the distribution of the supplies were nearly trampled then by the rushing prisoners. Only the vigorous but non-lethal reaction of the combat robots surrounding the pallets restored a semblance of order in the line of waiting men. Fuming, General Wainwright

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went up and down the line, berating the troublemakers and directing the others to behave like soldiers. That did the trick, permitting the distribution to resume. By the time all the supplies were distributed, the huge mass of the GILGAMESH landed next to the main gate of the camp, attracting exclamations from the ex-prisoners. Nancy, who had in the meantime discreetly put both Ken Dows and James Parker aboard the TEEN TEAM, went back to General Wainwright and pointed at the big cargo ramp now coming down on the heavy transport ship.

“General, your men can now board their ride home. There will be a short stopover in Manila to pick up the army and navy nurses and the civilians who had been interned there. Then, my ship will fly to the San Francisco area, where you will disembark at the Alameda Naval Air Station. The authorities there have been warned by radio to expect you and your people.”

“What about my Filipino troops?”

“They will also board this ship but they will get off in Manila, where they will help restore Filipino authority over the capital. There are more than enough captured Japanese equipment and supplies in Manila to reequip them for that job. Will that be satisfactory, General?”

Wainwright nodded, obviously pleased.

“You have decidedly planned this whole thing very well, miss. I see that your reputation while working with the British higher staff in London was well deserved. As tempting as going back to the States for rest and recuperation is, however, I would prefer to stay in Manila with my Filipino troops until I can properly hand over my command to General MacArthur when he will return.”

Nancy smiled at those words.

“General, I was expecting that from you, so I had a few things prepared as a consequence. They will be handed to you once on the ship. I will not be going with you, though: I have other trouble spots to take care of. Have a good trip, General.”

“Thank you, miss.” replied Wainwright, shaking her hand. They then exchanged a salute before Nancy returned to the TEEN TEAM, where the empty pallets had been put back in and the team of women was now waiting inside the cargo hold. Wainwright watched her get in the scoutship, which then closed its rear ramp and took off, disappearing in the night sky. The general then turned to face his troops.

“ALRIGHT, MEN! FORM UP IN THREE RANKS, WITH THE OFFICERS AND NCOs ALONGSIDE, THEN WE WILL MARCH INTO THAT BIG SHIP IN MILITARY

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FASHION! AFTER A SHORT STOP IN MANILA, YOU WILL THEN BE FLOWN TO ALAMEDA NAVAL AIR STATION, NEAR SAN FRANCISCO, FOR A WELL-DESERVED PERIOD OF REST AND RECUPERATION.”

Wild cheers greeted his words. Their spirits now high, the soldiers quickly organized themselves into marching columns, their NCOs barking orders and directives when some were too slow in finding a place in the ranks. After five minutes, satisfied that his troops were grouped properly, Wainwright and his top staff officers took place at the head of the long procession.

“TROOPS, FORWARD…MARCH!”

The 11,632 men then started walking in cadence towards the GILGAMESH.

Major General Edward King, wearing a dirty and tattered tropical uniform, was waiting with a young woman of the Time Patrol inside the cavernous cargo hold of the ship. Wainwright, passing first the command of his column to his chief of staff, then broke away from the ranks and went to his subordinate, who had commanded his army forces in Bataan until its surrender to the Japanese. King saluted Wainwright when he stopped in front of him, then shook hands with him.

“Sir, it is a real pleasure to see you alive and well.”

“I’m alive but I was not really well until less than an hour ago, Ed. How did your men fare after the surrender?”

King’s face clouded with sorrow as he remembered the horrors he and his men had gone through.

“Not well at all, sir. Those Japanese bastards made us march over 85 miles without any food or water, then put us in a camp with only two water faucets for over 60,000 men, no sanitary facilities and little food. We lost an average of at least 500 men a day, the majority of them Filipinos, from diseases and starvation. The Japanese also kept beating us and killed our men under any kind of excuse they could find. According to our saviors, they counted a bit over 42,600 survivors as we marched inside this ship. In total, I lost over 2,000 American and 28,000 Filipino troops between the day of our surrender and today, sir.”

Wainwright lowered his head, devastated by these news.

“My God! So many good men, gone. Ed, I have decided to stay in Manila with our Filipino troops until General MacArthur can come and do a proper takeover of my command. You will escort our survivors to the States and make damn sure that they get

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the best treatment possible. As their commander, I am authorizing all our men and women a month-long leave of rest and recuperation. Don’t let any paper-pushing asshole in the States delay or shorten the leave for our people, Ed.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

The young woman in the gray Time Patrol uniform then politely cut in on their conversation.

“Excuse me, General, but I am to bring you to a cabin where you will be able to wash up and change. Since our trip to Manila will be very short, we have to hurry.”

“Alright then, lead on, miss.”

The trip to a small but luxurious private cabin on an upper deck took a good ten minutes, so big was the ship. The woman explained first to him the functioning of the shower and of the toilet in the bathroom attached to the cabin, then went outside in the hallway to wait for Wainwright. The general eagerly jumped in the shower and enjoyed the hot water spray for a few minutes, rinsing away the accumulated crust of dirt and perspiration on his body before soaping up and rinsing again. Feeling like a new man, he stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry. He found a razor and a can of shaving cream by the side of the sink. He hesitated only for a second before deciding to take the time to shave. Once that was done, Wainwright went to the bedroom, where he had seen clothes laid on the bed. To his pleased surprise, he found there a standard American Army combat uniform to his size, complete with boots, underwear and cap. There were even three stars on the collar of the shirt. A web belt supporting a holstered Colt .45 pistol was also laid on the bed. A small canvas backpack besides the bed contained two spare uniforms, some underwear and articles of personal hygiene. His morale quite high now, the general soon walked out of the cabin to join up with the Time Patrol woman, who smiled in approval while looking up and down at him.

“Much better, sir. Commanders should always look at their best.”

“Well said, miss. Thank Miss Laplante on my part when you see her next time.”

“It will be done, sir. This way, please.”

As they were in an elevator headed down to the main cargo holds level, a noise accompanied by a slight shock attracted a question from Wainwright.

“Hey! What was that, miss?”

“We just landed in Manila, sir. We are now straddling the old sports field of the Santo Tomas University, which had been turned by the Japanese into an internment

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camp for civilians. We will pick up over 3,600 American civilians and a few navy and army nurses there, unload your Filipino troops and you, then head towards California.”

“Could I ask you to delay the disembarking for a few minutes, to give me a chance to speak to my Filipino officers first?”

“Why not?” replied the woman, who then used her helmet-mounted radio to speak in an unknown language with someone. Wainwright couldn’t help examine in detail her uniform in the meantime, noting in particular her nametag: Eva Dittmar. That and her accent probably made her a German, but he was not going to be alarmed by that, not after what she and her comrades had done tonight. The doors of the elevator soon opened, revealing the inside of a huge cargo hold full of soldiers sitting or standing around. Looking around him as he walked out of the elevator, he soon spotted Major General King, who was conferring with some of his senior officers. He quickly walked to his group, prompting them into coming to attention and saluting.

“At ease, gentlemen! General King, I want to speak to our Filipino army officers, now!”

“Yes, sir!”

King in turn ordered his officers to assemble the Filipino officers, making them run away in all directions while shouting orders. King used the time he was alone with Wainwright to speak to him in a low voice.

“Sir, the Time Patrol trooper who freed us said that Nancy Laplante was the point of origin of that wave of light which miraculously healed all of us. Is that really true, sir?”

“It seems so, Ed. I didn’t see it myself but others in Cabanatuan did. Laplante herself said that she produced that wall of light. Frankly, I can think of only one who could do what she did: God! It does seem that Laplante is in high favor with Him right now, whether Washington likes it or not.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“What I mean is that Laplante herself confided to me that there are serious differences between herself and President Roosevelt concerning international policies in the post-war world. She also said that, while directing operations against Japan from Hawaii, racially motivated incidents made her abandon Pearl Harbor as a base of operation. Basically, she objects violently to the United States laws concerning racial segregation and the treatment of Asian immigrants.”

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“She may think what she wants about our segregation laws, sir, but it is none of her business, since she is not an American.” replied King. That drew a dubious look from his superior.

“Maybe, Ed, but can we afford to ignore her? She and her organization are turning this war upside down in a matter of days, while she personally holds powers that I would qualify as quasi-divine.”

King didn’t reply to that, obviously shaken by his arguments. The Filipino officers were starting to assemble around them anyway and they were out of time. Wainwright took two minutes to brief the native officers about what he wanted done in Manila, then sent them back to their men. The nearly 38,000 Filipino soldiers in the holds then formed up in massive columns, Wainwright at their head, as the giant access ramp of the hold lowered to the ground. The lights from the ship revealed a crowd of civilians waiting some distance from the ramp, guarded by dozens of the combat machines of the Time Patrol. Led by Wainwright, the Filipino soldiers walked down the ramp, bringing wild cheers from the civilians. A lone man in the gray uniform and body armor of the Time Patrol was waiting for Wainwright at the foot of the ramp and came to him as soon as the Filipino troops had a chance to disperse around the large campus of Santo Tomas University, searching for Japanese weapons and equipment to commandeer. The man was a tall, lean British named William Anderson who sported a small blond moustache and spoke with an unmistakable British accent.

“Good morning, General! If I may bring you up to date on the situation in Manila, I can tell you that all the Japanese within three kilometers from this campus are already dead. I have 1,200 combat robots doing an expanding, all-azimuth sweep of the city and the rest of the Japanese still alive should be dead in a couple of hours. All the strategic points and known Japanese installations have already been either taken or destroyed, including the Japanese High Headquarters for the Philippines. By the way, we found this in the files taken from the Japanese.”

Wainwright took the official-looking document written in Japanese as Anderson went on.

“This is a directive from the Japanese Army Grand Headquarters in Tokyo to all of its units, both inside and outside Japan. It directs all local Japanese commanders to exterminate all the Allied prisoners in their custody, both military and civilian, if enemy forces are either about to invade their zones of responsibility or about to invade Japan itself. The footnote at the bottom of the page was signed by General Homma, commander of the Japanese forces in the Philippines, and says that the order is to

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receive the widest distribution possible. You may keep this copy for your own use, General.”

“The bastards!” raged Wainwright, the Japanese order still in his hands. “And where is General Homma now, Mister Anderson?”

“Dead, sir, along with the rest of his staff. They never had a chance to warn Tokyo that we were attacking them. Before the end of this day, our robots should have completed a full sweep of the Philippines and killed all the Japanese soldiers still alive on the islands. We will then advise you when the job is finished. Where do you intend to set up your command post, General?”

“Right here, in this campus. My Filipino soldiers will help you sweep the city and ensure that no Japanese can hide. After learning about this Japanese order, I doubt that we ourselves will take any prisoners.”

“An understandable reaction, sir. By the way, you may want those to keep contact with us and with Pearl Harbor.”

Anderson then presented him with two radio transceivers, one small enough to fit in a large pocket, the other a heavier one meant to be worn like a backpack.

“The small one is already tuned to our operational frequency. The bigger one is a powerful HF/SF transceiver that can reach all around the world. The main frequencies presently in use by the U.S. Pacific Fleet are written on that tag attached to the handset. Both radios use isotopic batteries which will last over twenty years. We will recuperate both radios after you can effect a linkup with American forces, not because we are cheap but rather because these radios represent very advanced technology. By the way, saying that you lost them won’t work: they have internal radio beacons.” Wainwright looked at Anderson with amusement.

“You Time Patrol types always think of everything, it seems.”

“We do try, General.” replied proudly the field agent.

13:17 (San Francisco Time)

Monday, June 1, 1942 ‘B’/Tuesday, June 2 in Philippines Alameda Naval Air Station, Oakland

California

Voran Tess, commander of the GILGAMESH, felt relieved when the last of his American passengers was safely off his ship and the access ramps closed back: the

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welcome from the local base authorities had been polite but cold, probably reflecting the attitude of Washington towards the Time Patrol. The European and Australian

passengers left aboard would probably bring him warmer welcomes at his next stops. Still, posting anti-aircraft guns and pointing them at his ship had not been a gesture he had appreciated much. Even Major General King had found that quite stupid and had blasted verbally the base commander, forcing the latter into withdrawing the guns. For Voran and his crew, who had been warmly thanked by the camp survivors as they left the ship, the attitude of the local authorities had been a bitter disappointment. With that still in mind, Voran turned his command chair to look at his pilot, Alan Mishtar.

“Let’s take off now, Alan. Our next stop will be Northolt, where we will drop off our British passengers. Helena, warn Northolt that we are about to arrive, so that the British can be ready to process those poor souls in the cargo hold.”

“Yes, Voran!” replied the young German blonde, who was the assistant sensors and weapons officer of the ship. As she was contacting Northolt, Voran rubbed his tired eyes and shifted his body in his command chair: he had been up and at his station for over sixteen hours now. The rest of his crew was also getting tired by the high operational tempo of the latest days.

“Helena, on second thought, tell Northolt that, after dropping all of our passengers off, we will go to 60,000 B.C.E. to take a good rest period.”

“Got that!” said Helena, pleased by his decision. She was dog-tired and really could use some sleep. One way to catch up on one’s sleep without delaying the present operations was to go back in the distant past, park the ship in Earth orbit and put the autopilot on before going to bed. Once you had slept all that you needed, you simply jumped back to five minutes past the time of your first jump and resumed operations.

For their two last trips, to Amsterdam in Holland and Melbourne in Australia, they didn’t even bother retracting and deploying again the landing legs, instead rising high enough from their latest landing spot to perform a spacetime jump to the next destination and landing again. This way, they had their last passengers disembark less than an hour after leaving Alameda Naval Air Station and were soon on their way to a parking orbit in 60,000 B.C.E. Once in the planned orbit, Voran made a last ship-wide systems check, then spoke in the ship’s intercom.

“Attention all hands! Secure from duty stations and go for a twelve-hour rest period. We will resume operations after that. Have a good sleep!”

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Getting up slowly from his command chair, he rubbed his tired back and went to his cabin, situated on the same level than the bridge. The other bridge crewmembers soon followed suit.

Voran woke up with a startle seven hours later, still feeling tired. The insisting voice of the main computer then made him wake up fully very fast.

“Alert! Intruder on the bridge! Alert! Intruder on the bridge!” Getting out of bed in a hurry, he switched on his videophone, which could also connect with the main computer.

“This is Voran Tess. Show me the intruder!”

The main computer then switched his videophone screen to the view given by one of the security cameras on the bridge. Voran now could see a young woman in a dirty T-shirt and tropical shorts bending over the pilot’s station, studying the controls. Her black hair, cut at the neck, was disheveled and dirty. Voran sighed in both relief and annoyance: at least the intruder was not an armed Imperium soldier, in which case their situation would have been very bad indeed. On the other hand, having a clandestine passenger was not something to please him. Eva Dittmar, the ship’s security officer, was going to blow a fuse on this. Voran called Eva next, finding that the German was already up and armed with a stun pistol, even though she was only wearing her underwear.

“Eva, take the time to dress properly. I don’t think that our visitor means any harm. The controls will refuse any command from her anyway. I will meet you outside the bridge’s main access in five minutes.”

Dressing quickly, Voran took a stun pistol as well before leaving his cabin. Eva Dittmar was already at the main entrance to the bridge when he arrived there and looked at him.

“She has done nothing but look at the various stations. She seems to be quite a curious woman, but she also is showing no apparent fear. I would rate her as a cool customer. She must have come aboard during our stop in Manila, then probably hid in some storage room.”

“We will know soon enough, Eva. Let’s go in!”

Pistols at the ready, they ran inside as soon as the door slid open. Crossing the footbridge leading to the bridge control platforms, set in the center of a large holographic sphere, they then ran up the stairs to the command platform, where the intruder was. The stranger heard them coming and raised her hands as soon as she saw their pistols, shouting in English.

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“Don’t shoot! I have no hostile intentions.”

Eva approached her cautiously, her pistol still pointed, and performed a quick search on her, finding no weapon in the process.

“Alright, miss, who are you?”

“My name is Sally Nolan. I was a prisoner in the Santo Tomas internment camp. Before the Japanese invasion, I was working for a Texan mining company doing prospective work in the Philippines.”

“Why did you stay on board this ship instead of disembarking at Alameda?”

“Because I want to stay with you guys.” said forcefully Nolan. “Can you imagine how exciting it could be for a girl like me to be part of your Time Patrol? I have been constantly treated before like a tomboy who wouldn’t stay in her proper place, even though I could drive and operate heavy machinery better than most of these beer-guzzling loudmouths. Then, I saw you guys, commanded by Nancy Laplante and apparently treating your women on an equal footing with men. How could I not stay on this ship?”

Eva and Voran exchanged a quick glance, then lowered their pistols. Voran spoke this time.

“You said that you can operate heavy equipment, miss. Are you good at mechanical repair as well?”

“Hell, will a degree in mechanical engineering from the University of Houston be enough for you? Even with that, the most those macho morons would let me do is drive a bulldozer or a heavy truck. Now, can I put my hands down?”

“You can, Miss Nolan. By the way, I am Voran Tess, captain of this ship. This is Eva Dittmar, my weapons and security officer.”

“Cool!” said Nolan happily while shaking Eva’s hand after that of Voran. “Does that mean that I am in?”

Voran smiled at Sally’s audacity. Nancy Laplante was definitely going to like that Texan woman.

“Only Nancy Laplante can approve your candidacy, miss, but I would say that the odds are in your favor right now. Do you need anything for the moment? Are you hungry?”

“I could use a good shower and a meal, if that is possible.” said Nolan, her voice now reflecting her fatigue. Voran nodded his head and looked at Eva.

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“Eva, could I ask you to escort Miss Nolan to a private cabin and see to her needs? Have her fitted with an apprentice uniform and make her pass a session of mnemotronic chair to teach her Neo-English, French, German, Russian and Spanish.”

“I already speak Spanish, guys.” said Nolan quickly. “What is a mnemotronic chair?”

“A device that lets you learn very quickly through direct transfer of knowledge to the brain. You will be able to learn those four new languages in less than an hour.”

“Wow! I can’t wait to see that. What do we do after that?”

“We will resume our operations. Our next priority task is to go pick up Australian prisoners in Rabaul, on the island of New Britain just north of Australia.”

“Rabaul? Isn’t that a main Japanese naval base?”

“It is.” answered Eva. “Right now there is a hell of a battle going on there.”

05:46 (Melbourne Time)

Kokopo catholic mission, near Rabaul

Island of New Britain, Solomon Islands

Southwest Pacific

“My God! I don’t know who is attacking the Japanese, but this sounds like one hell of a fight.” Said Australian nursing sister Mavis Cullen as she listened to the noise of the intense firefight coming from the main Japanese naval base in Rabaul. Her comrade, nursing sister Eileen Callahan, standing like her outside the convent of the Kokopo catholic mission, nodded in agreement.

“It certainly is. It has been going on for over half an hour now. Do you think that the strange flying ships we saw a few days ago are involved again?”

“They must be, since the last time we saw one was when it sank all the ships in the harbor.”

Kathleen Parker, the matron in charge of their group of six nursing sisters, then stuck her head out of the door of the convent.

“Girls, you better come inside. The last time the Japanese got clobbered, it took all of the bishop’s influence to stop them from taking us away and throwing us in the prisoners camp with our unfortunate soldiers.”

“She is right, Mavis. Let’s go inside.”

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They were about to walk inside the convent when a huge ship flew overhead at low altitude, spitting condensed streams of canon shells from a number of gun turrets at the Japanese base. The two nursing sisters watched with awe the behemoth pass over them, then ran inside.

“Did you see that thing, Kay?” exclaimed Mavis. “The Japanese are going to be shredded to pieces this time.”

“I sure did. Now, let’s lock the doors and windows, quickly!” Leading her five nursing sisters towards the back rooms of the convent, Parker gathered as well the seven civilian sisters from the government hospital at Namanula, the two Methodist missionary sisters of the mission and the wife of a plantation owner who had refused to be evacuated last December.

“Get dressed and be ready to run from the mission on short notice. The Japanese may well seek revenge on us.” said the matron. The missionary sisters looked at her with shock and disbelief.

“Abandon the mission? We can’t do that!” objected the senior Methodist sister, bringing frustration to Kay Parker.

“Do you prefer to die if the Japanese come here? We would only leave the mission for a short time anyway, until the Japanese are gone.”

“Where could we hide, Kay?” asked nursing sister Lorna Whyte, anxious.

“In the jungle, of course!”

Taking their clues from Kay, the fifteen women hurried up and got fully dressed, then filled a few knapsacks with food and water canteens. A shout of alarm from Mavis Cullen suddenly froze them.

“Kay, a Japanese Army truck is coming up the road.”

“Quick, let’s leave by the back door!”

They were moving towards the rear of the convent again when they heard a shouted order in German from the courtyard of the mission. The two Methodist sisters immediately froze in horror.

“My God! The bishop!”

They would have turned back towards the front if Kay had not physically stopped them.

“Are you crazy? What do you expect to accomplish except for getting yourselves killed?”

“But, the bishop…”

“He is trying to save you. Don’t make his efforts pointless.”

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As if to underline her point, they then heard a last shouted order from the bishop to the approaching Japanese, which was followed by a single rifle shot. Kay then forcefully pushed the Methodist sisters back.

“I said get out, all of you, and run inside the jungle.”

The sixteen women started running out from the back of the convent as the noise of rifle butts breaking down the front door could be heard. There was a good hundred meters of open ground from the convent to the start of the jungle, a long distance when running in female shoes while pursued by Japanese soldiers. Arriving first to the cover of the trees, Mavis Cullen turned around to see how the others were doing. To her horror, nine of the women were still in the middle of the open ground when the first Japanese soldier showed up at the back door of the convent. The Japanese raised his rifle and pointed it at the back of one of the Methodist sisters. Mavis couldn’t help flinch and look away as a rifle shot rang out. She then realized that the shot had come from the jungle and not from the convent. Looking again, she saw the Japanese soldier sprawled across the back porch. A second Japanese soldier appeared, only to be shot as well in the next second. Someone then shouted from inside the jungle.

“QUICK, SISTERS, RUN INSIDE THE JUNGLE!”

Spurred by the voice of their unknown savior, the women soon were all under tree cover, while two more shots downed as many Japanese soldiers, who were now growing much more cautious and were shooting back from behind the windows of the convent. The Australian women had no choice but to lie down to avoid the bullets, but the dense jungle foliage gave them good cover. Probably spurred by their officer, the Japanese soldiers suddenly burst out of the convent at a run, charging with bayonets fixed and screaming loudly. In a show of marksmanship which left Kay Parker awed, the unseen sniper shot the Japanese one after the other, downing six soldiers in less than ten seconds. That left only two Japanese alive to reach the first trees. If the unseen sniper was using a Lee-Enfield bolt-action rifle, as Kay suspected, he was now probably busy reloading his rifle, which could contain a maximum of ten rounds. Terrified, Kay forced herself to stay still as the two remaining Japanese soldiers advanced in her general direction, keeping a low profile. Another shot rang out from close by, downing one of the Japanese. The surviving one cursed loudly in Japanese and shot back twice in the general direction of the shot, unable to spot the sniper. He tumbled to the ground two seconds later, a bullet through the head. There was then an incredible silence around for a few seconds, as the women didn’t dare move yet. Someone then moved to the

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right of Kay. She sighed with relief when a tall silhouette covered with dirt and wearing the tattered remains of an Australian Army uniform approached her, a scoped rifle in its hands. The sniper smiled to Kay and offered her a hand.

“Let me help you up, Sister.”

The voice of the sniper struck Kay as she got up with his help: while he had spoken with a strong Australian accent, the voice had been that of a teenager. The sniper’s face was hard to detail with the shadows from the trees and the dirt covering it.

“I must thank God for your help, sir. We owe you our lives.”

“It was a pleasure, Sister. I’m Jeffrey Norton, from the Australian Army Corps of Cadets.”

“A cadet?” exclaimed Kay in disbelief. “And what are you doing, running around the jungle with a sniper rifle?”

Jeffrey’s smile turned to a tired expression then.

“It is a long story, ma’am. First, though, do you have food still in your convent? I haven’t eaten for over two days now.”

“Of course, my poor boy. Come with us.”

Kay was leading him while assembling the other women when Jeffrey stopped and pointed his rifle towards the convent.

“Maybe you should stay here under cover for a while, Sisters: there may be more Japanese in and around the mission. I will go check the place out first.” Seeing the good sense in his suggestion, Kay didn’t object and watched the boy run across the open ground towards the convent. To her relief, nobody shot at him and he soon disappeared inside the convent. He reappeared two minutes later and waved at them to join him inside. Cautiously at first, the sixteen women left the cover of the jungle and walked back to the convent, arriving there without incident. They found Jeffrey Norton in the kitchen, his mouth full of raw onions. Embarrassed, he tried to swallow the onions while attempting to explain himself.

“Sorry, Sisters! I was so hungry and I saw those onions…”

“There is nothing to be sorry about, Mister Norton.” replied Kay in a gentle tone while detailing him. The teenager was over 180 centimeter-tall and had blond hair and blue eyes. While thin from hunger, his body was athletic, with wide shoulders and long legs.

“Mister Norton, how old are you exactly?”

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“I turned fifteen last month, Sister.”

“And you were fighting in the jungle? Since when?”

“Since the occupation of Rabaul over four months ago, Sister. My parents, who owned a plantation near Rabaul, were shot by the Japanese. I fled in the jungle then and returned to my house a day later. I shot the Japanese still there, then packed what I would need to fight on before disappearing in the jungle again. I have been sniping at the Japanese since then, stealing food and water from where I could. I was starting to despair of ever seeing Allied troops come and deliver us when those silent flying ships started appearing a few days ago.”

Kay was about to say how impressed she was when one of the Methodist sisters suddenly ran towards the front door.

“Bishop Becker! We must see if he is alive still.”

As one, the other women rushed out, with the confused Jeffrey Norton behind them. Emerging in the courtyard of the mission, they saw the body of the bishop sprawled in the dust near a parked Japanese light truck. They ran to him, with Mavis Cullen arriving first and kneeling besides him. After checking his pulse, she looked up with joy at the others.

“He’s still alive. Quick, let’s get him inside.”

Jeffrey Norton shouted in alarm before they could lift the bishop from the ground.

“SISTERS, WATCH OUT!”

The teenager was in the process of pointing his rifle at something behind the truck when he froze, total surprise on his face.

“What the hell is that?”

The women looked in the same direction as him and froze as well. A machine the size of a big man and mounted on two tracks had advanced from behind the truck, a turret with weapons in the place of a head. Altogether, the thing looked formidable and Jeffrey decided that lowering slowly his rifle was the smart thing to do right now. The machine rolled to a few paces of their group and stopped; its weapons pointed downward at the ground. A male voice coming out of the machine then spoke in English.

“Are you Australians?”

“Yes, we are!” answered quickly Jeffrey. “Who are you?”

“The correct question would be ‘what are you?’, sir. I am a robot, a machine animated by an artificial intelligence. My task is to destroy the enemies of the Time Patrol.”

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“The Time Patrol?” said Kay Parker. “What’s that?”

“The Time Patrol is an organization from the 34th century mandated to protect history. Our present mission is to destroy the Japanese Army and save the prisoners it holds.”

Everyone swallowed hard while trying to digest that information. Jeffrey was the first to recover from the shock.

“Could you help us? We have a gravely wounded man here who urgently needs to be brought to a hospital.”

If the machine looked at Bishop Becker, nothing showed it. It stayed still and didn’t speak for a few seconds, prompting Jeffrey into shouting at it with impatience.

“Hey, machine, are you listening? We have a man in need of urgent treatment.”

“The message has just been passed along, sir.” replied the machine in a patient voice. “Someone will soon arrive to help you.”

“He better arrive quickly.” muttered Mavis Cullen, who was pressing her hand on the chest wound of the bishop to stop the bleeding. “The bishop is bleeding heavily.” Only a few seconds after she said those words, a tall woman appeared from nowhere in a flash of white light, making them all jump back in surprise. The woman wore a dark gray uniform, a complicated helmet and some type of molded armor around her torso. Jeffrey’s eyes opened wide when he recognized the heroine he had been worshipping since 1940.

“Wow! Brigadier Laplante!”

Nancy Laplante smiled to him while walking towards the bishop.

“Just miss or Nancy will do, boy: I resigned my commission. Let’s see your friend he…”

Just then, a bullet ricocheted on her body armor and went through her left arm, making her stagger back and grimace in pain. The robot reacted even faster than Jeffrey, who pivoted around immediately towards the corner of the convent while raising his rifle: the weapon turret of the robot went up and spat a short machine gun salvo in less than a second. The wounded Japanese who had crawled to the corner of the convent to shoot at them dropped dead, riddled with bullets. After a moment of stupor, the nursing sisters ran to Nancy Laplante to examine her wound, but Nancy gestured for them to stop.

“No need for this: I can heal myself.”

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Before anyone could question her on that, she touched her left arm with her right hand, which then glowed intensively for twenty seconds. Withdrawing her right hand, she cautiously flexed her left arm to test it and smiled.

“As good as new.”

While everybody was still stunned into silence, she extended her right hand towards Bishop Becker, palm opened. A white ray shot out of her hand and covered the bishop’s chest for a few seconds before fading away. The bishop soon opened his eyes and sat up, confusion on his face.

“What happened? My shirt is covered with blood but I don’t feel any pain. Did the Japanese shoot me?”

The Australian women and Jeffrey immediately kneeled in unison, staring at Nancy with awe.

“A miracle! You just performed a miracle.” said fervently one of the Methodist sisters. Nancy looked down gravely at them.

“Please get up, all of you. I am no saint: I am just an intermediary.”

“But…the way you healed yourself and the bishop was nothing short of a miracle.” objected the sister. Nancy shook her head.

“Call it the power of mind over matter, Sister.”

She then looked at Jeffrey, scrutinizing him with curiosity.

“Aren’t you a bit young to fight, boy?”

“Boy? Miss, I may only be fifteen but I know how to fight.”

“How long have you been fighting the Japanese?”

“I have been sniping at them for over four months now, miss.” answered proudly Jeffrey. Kay Parker took on her then to support the cadet.

“Yes, and one fine sniper he is, miss. Jeffrey shot twelve Japanese in succession and saved our lives.”

Nancy looked at Jeffrey with renewed interest.

“Where are your parents, Jeffrey?”

“Dead, miss.” replied the cadet, lowering his head. “They were killed by the Japanese when they took Rabaul.”

Nancy nodded her head slowly and spoke after a few seconds.

“Jeffrey, would you like to come with me? I could use a brave lad like you.” Jeffrey immediately took one step forward, coming to attention with his rifle.

“I would be honored, miss.”

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“Excellent! Bishop, sisters, I will have a small flying craft pick you up shortly to transport you to Australia. Please pack your things quickly.”

“But we can’t abandon the mission like this.” objected the bishop, who was now up on his feet. Nancy looked at him with concern.

“Bishop, this is only a raid. We will kill all the Japanese we can find, free their prisoners and then leave, as we have much to do around the Pacific and few people to do it. I can’t guarantee that no Japanese soldier will be able to escape into the jungle to later attack your mission. There will anyway be no one left for your mission to serve until the original citizens of Rabaul return.”

“I still want to stay with my nuns, miss.”

Nancy sighed in annoyance, then looked at Kay Parker.

“Alright, but I am evacuating all the nursing sisters present here: you will be a lot more useful in a hospital in Melbourne than here. Be ready in less than ten minutes.”

“Yes, miss!”

As the nurses ran back to the convent, Nancy approached Jeffrey and glued herself to him while smiling.

“Don’t think bad of me because of this, Jeffrey: I am simply about to transport you out of here.”

Both then disappeared in a flash of white light, leaving the stunned bishop to stare at the spot where they had been.

18:46 (Beijing Time)

Tuesday, June 2, 1942 ‘B’

Main vivisection laboratory

Pingfan Germ Warfare Complex

Manchuria

Farah Tolkonen ‘A’ stared silently for long seconds at the partially dissected bodies of four unfortunate Chinese: two men; a woman and a small girl. She had seen pictures and films of countless atrocities committed in this war, but this was the first time that she truly saw by herself the bestiality of some persons. That so-called doctors of medicine would have done such things, injecting living human beings with horrible diseases and then dissecting them to see the results, made it even harder for Farah to accept that such atrocities could have happened. She, like the other Time Patrol

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personnel present in Pingfan, was wearing a light protective suit on top of her uniform and her helmet faceplate was down and sealed, her air now being filtered by the built-in filters of her helmet. An equally silent Nancy Laplante stood beside her.

“Nancy, you did say that the Japanese doctors assigned to Unit 731 and Unit 100 were captured alive, correct?”

“They were, Farah. Since those bastards were wearing civilian clothes, our robots simply stunned them instead of killing them outright. We herded them into a nearby lounge.”

“Lead me to them!” said Farah in an unusually cold voice. As a citizen of the Global Council, she had been a convinced pacifist before meeting Nancy but, like all the other field agents and aircrews of the Time Patrol, had been since then exploring the souvenirs of her past incarnations with the help of Nancy. One of her past lives had been as a soldier in Humanity’s last recorded war in the 29th century. Following Nancy out of the vivisection laboratory and along a long hallway, she soon entered a lounge whose two doors were guarded by combat robots. About twenty Japanese men wearing lab overcoats were sitting around the tables of the lounge, their face jittery, and looked up at the two women with fear and dread. Farah stared back at them for a minute, examining the face of each of them, then turned towards Nancy and extended her right hand.

“Your pistol, Nancy.”

Nancy gave Farah her Colt RAPTOR machine pistol without a word. Farah, like all the members of the Time Patrol, was fully qualified on all of their individual weapons and was familiar with the Colt RAPTOR. Nancy did speak out loudly in Japanese, though.

“Doctor Ishi, stand up and come forward.”

The head scientist of Unit 731 got up hesitantly and walked slowly to Farah and Nancy, stopping three paces in front of them and bowing deeply.

“What may I do for the honorable ladies?”

The hypocrisy and shameless opportunism of the man finished convincing Farah about her next move. Raising the machine pistol, she shot Ishi once between the eyes. The Japanese toppled backward to the floor, letting Farah realize how easy it had been for her to kill him: no last second hesitation; no shaking of the hand and no remorse. In fact, she now felt relief, as if killing that monster had brought peace to his unfortunate victims. She then slowly, deliberately shot the remaining Japanese scientists one by one even as they scattered around the lounge to find whatever cover there was. All her pent-up

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revolt at the sadistic atrocities she had witnessed in this war burst out in that round of killings. Her face was hard when she gave back the weapon to Nancy.

“Let’s repatriate the prisoners who survived this hell, then we will get rid of the stocks of chemical and biological weapons stored in the camp by transporting them into Space and dumping them into the Sun. Then, let’s burn this whole place to the ground.”

10:10 (Washington Time)

Wednesday, June 3, 1942 ‘B’

Oval Office, White House

Washington

“Come in!” said tersely Franklin D. Roosevelt while still reading the morning edition of the Chicago Tribune newspaper. Secretary of State Cordell Hull and Secretary of War Henry Stimson entered the Oval Office and took the seats offered by the President. Since both had also read today’s edition of the Chicago Tribune, they had a good idea already about why they had been called in. Stimson even had his own copy of the Chicago Tribune in his briefcase. Roosevelt, sitting in his wheelchair behind his work desk, finally showed the front page of the newspaper to his two cabinet members and pointed at a large picture with an equally large title in bold letters. The picture showed Nancy Laplante in the process of healing General Claire Chennault in freshly liberated Nanking, with the title above saying ‘HOLY WARRIOR IN CHINA’.

“Did you guys see this?”

“We did, Mister President.” answered glumly Cordell Hull. The events of the last few days had been particularly damaging to his professional ego. Having dismissed Laplante as an egomaniac with simplistic views of world politics, he was now starting to look like the actual amateur, with Laplante piling success after success. “That woman could give lessons in public relations to even General MacArthur.”

“Which she did.” replied Stimson. “Remember yesterday’s edition of the Chicago Tribune, with that picture of General MacArthur arriving in the Philippines by plane in order to play ‘Savior of the Philippines’, only to be upstaged by Nancy Laplante, who was waiting for him on the tarmac besides General Wainwright. Personally, I have to admit that I was happy to see MacArthur eat crow for once.”

“I have to say that I felt the same.” admitted Roosevelt. “MacArthur had it coming for a long time. However, our real problem now is about what we do next. Because of

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her advanced technology, Miss Laplante and her Time Patrol will always be one step ahead of us, literally, and can accomplish military feats we can only dream about. Hell, that picture of all these robots lined up in Nanking made me green with envy. There is also another aspect of her that could play havoc with the way the American public is viewing her.”

“You mean her so-called holiness, Mister President?” said Hull, attracting an annoyed look from Roosevelt.

“Cordell, I know that you don’t like her, but give her at least her dues. After all that she did in the last days in front of thousands of witnesses, how could anyone deny that she is able to perform literally miracles? That is having right now a major impact on the American public, an impact I can easily understand. Imagine: after years of seeing Germany and Japan kick the teeth of about everyone else in the World with apparent impunity, here comes a charismatic woman who basically defeated Germany in a single week and also destroyed the Japanese Navy and Air Force. To add to that, she frees hundreds of thousands of people dying in German and Japanese camps and, to top it all, heals them in a series of mass miracles with what can only be the help of God himself. Well, guess what! Those healed Jews and American servicemen and citizens have friends and relatives here in the States who are now ready to kiss Laplante’s four cheeks for what she did. You should see the deluge of mail the White House is receiving, all supporting Laplante and praising her to heaven.”

“She already went to heaven and came back, if one can believe the stories about her, Mister President.” said Stimson, deadpan. That made Roosevelt pause for a moment.

“Damn, you are actually right, Henry. You want another good one on the same line? Our people in London have been very carefully monitoring what is happening around the Time Patrol people there and they picked up something that is extremely disturbing, to say the least. Yesterday evening, the head of the OSS, General Donovan, briefed me about it. From the testimony of numerous witnesses, both in London and in Warsaw, a young Jewish woman who came with the Time Patrol and who is presently staying in Warsaw is actually Saint Mary-Magdalene in person. She was apparently extracted from Palestine by Laplante after the death of Jesus Christ on the cross. That is not however the real whopper. What is significant is that she has a toddler boy with her who may be the actual son of Jesus Christ. That toddler, named David, is said to have demonstrated already some paranormal powers.”

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“Dear God!” said softly Stimson, now pale. “If this is true and it becomes public knowledge, it could start a real religious storm, especially with Laplante running around and performing miracles.”

“That secret may be already out, at least partially.” replied Roosevelt. “The Vatican, whose information network should never be underestimated, has apparently learned about that Mary-Magdalene and her son and is said to be preparing a delegation to visit her in Warsaw.”

Cordell Hull shook his head in bewilderment at those words.

“Damn! That’s the last thing we need. How will the Muslims and other religious groups react to this? What about our own people? This could create worldwide chaos and religious turmoil.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” said Stimson, somber. “I am sure that the Vatican wishes no more than us to see such religious turmoil being created. Whatever its delegation will find in Warsaw will probably be kept a closely guarded secret. Mister President, this aspect of the situation may be a fascinating one, but it leaves us still with the question of what we do next. Personally, I would urge that we reconsider our decision not to attend that peace conference in Paris on Friday. We should also seriously consider dumping the Vichy government of Marshall Petain. From what I hear about it, it is already becoming quite irrelevant and could be soon dissolved under French popular pressure. If we keep backing dead horses in Europe, we may end up with pie all over our faces.” Cordell Hull, stung by such open criticism of his handling of foreign affairs, had however little arguments to oppose Stimson’s views: whether he liked it or not, Nancy Laplante seemed to have all the aces in her hands at the moment. He thus swallowed his pride and spoke up reluctantly.

“I am afraid that Secretary Stimson is correct, Mister President. Things are quickly slipping out of our grasps in Europe as well as in the Pacific. We must salvage what we can while we still can.”

Roosevelt took only a moment to take his decision: it was not as if he had many options left open to him anyway.

“Alright! Have our embassy in London contact the Time Patrol outpost in Northolt to inform them that we wish to participate to that conference in Paris. As for the situation in the Pacific, let’s put on hold any military operation, except for the reinforcement of our forces in the Philippines, until things become clearer, especially in China.”

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