A Glint In Time (History and Time) (13 page)

Sally opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Ted said, "We're forming a new team. We might even get Janet to come back in. Bill really wants her back -she's going to that seminar in Europe too. There are people who want you in the team because you proved that you have a cool head, that you're smart, that you know your business, and that you're tough. I should tell you that they also want you as a government employee to keep you quiet. I'm authorized to offer you a GS-13 rating, that's a pay grade higher than a Captain, by the way, to work on this team.

"Oh God, Ted. I'm not smart. I'm not stable. I'm a fool. Besides, I was dragged around the world, dumped into sewer water, buried in a hole, and shot at with a missile. Then I thought that you... Oh, Ted, I just don't think I could...."

Just then, in the restaurant of the Ritz Carlton Buckhead, the air shimmered. There was a small explosion about a foot above Sally's head and three feet to her left. Nearly at the same time, another small explosion took place a foot higher and a few feet to her right. Two white hot pellets fell to the restaurant's carpet and started to burn the fibers. Ted grabbed a glass of water from the table and moved first to his left and then to his right, pouring water and ice on the smoldering rug and whatever fell there. The water burst into steam when it hit the source of the heat.

After a little more water, they each dug a glass sphere, about the size of a large marble, out of the carpet. The restaurant staff hovered, but didn't know what to make of the strange events.

Sally moved the glass sphere from hand to hand. It was still hot. "It must have taken a lot of power to get bring it here." she said. She picked off some of the melted carpet fiber with her finger nail. In a circle around the equator of the sphere, in raised letters, were the words, "Go, Go, Go." She never got Ted to tell her what was on the sphere he picked out of the carpet.

FORWARD TO BOOK II

So, what do you think happens to yesterday? Does it just ...go away? Is it possible that more than one version of yesterday exists? You would probably accept the argument that there are many possible tomorrows, so how can there be just one yesterday?

You'll face those questions in this section. Again, watch the time and date of each chapter and read the material in the opening box for orientation.

This section deals with some revisions of history as if they happened. But, these revisions are based on researched facts. I don't make this stuff up. I give the characters the facts and they tell me what happened!

Frank Derfler
Islamorada, FL 2008

A GLINT IN TIME: BOOK II
SEPTEMBER, 2001

SMOKING PUZZLE PALACE

Thursday, September 13, 2001
1400 Hours Eastern
E Ring, The Pentagon, Washington DC

Excerpt from the Personal Narrative
of Brig Gen
Fred Landry, PhD, (USAF Ret)

Recorded July 2006
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET/ TA

".....Immediately after the 9/11 attacks, certain people Project as a way to retaliate and perhaps even to prevent the attacks from happening. I see now, I know now, that the power inherent in time displacement capabilities is appealing and addictive. Back then, I thought it was just scary."

Air Force Colonel Fred Landry was one of the first people out of the meeting room in the Office of the Secretary of Defense area on the Pentagon's "E" ring. The smell of smoke from the airborne terrorist attack of two days ago was still strong in the outer corridor. The floors and walls were sooty, but the sounds of a cleaning crew came from just down the hallway. Landry took the number three lateral corridor inward to the A ring and walked around to the fifth corridor and the Air Force sector of the Pentagon that cut across the B through E rings. A good working knowledge of the geometry of the Pentagon helped

to get things done in the five-sided building.Although it was Saturday, the hallways were busy with grim faced officers and DoD civilian employees.

He entered the office of the Deputy Director of Operations for the Air Staff. The executive officer, another Colonel, nodded to Landry from behind his desk inside the door and pointed to a comfortable maroon leather couch. "Probably ten or fifteen minutes." he said.

This visit was a courtesy call. Landry worked for a senior DoD civilian employee who worked for an Assistant Secretary of Defense. But, Landry knew that while he wore the Air Force blue uniform he should keep his lateral communications going within the Air Force. Besides, he needed to ask for a few favors.

"Hey Fred, watcha got?" Lieutenant General Jack Hitchens had been Landry's wing commander when they both flew F-4s at KadenaAir Force Base in Okinawa. They flew combat missions in support of US advisers in Vietnam in 1963 and '64 until Kennedy declared victory and pulled US forces out of Vietnam in time for his re-election in '64. They lost track of each other during the turmoil caused by Kennedy's impeachment in '66 after the Mob's assassination of Castro.Landry, grounded from Air Force flying because of a heart fibrillation, went to MIT for an Air Force-sponsored PhD in physics and had received on-time promotions. Hitchens continued to climb a high speed career ladder and now Hitchens was a natural point of feedback into the Air Force for Landry.

Except for an eight-year difference in age, the two men looked alike. When they were young officers, the Air Force emphasized running and they dutifully ran. But then, the Air Force Flight Surgeons discovered that thin runners with low blood pressure and slow heart rates passed out earlier under high G loads than their beefier colleagues. So, fighter pilots stopped running so much and started pumping iron. They both stood under six feet tall with well developed arms and chests and no butts.

Landry started talking as they walked into Hitchen's office. Hitchens wasn't big on foreplay and wanted his information fast and tight. "OSD and DARPA are all-hands-on-deck." Landry said. "Anything anyone has from odor detectors, to unmanned recon smart drones, to better drugs for interrogation. Any toy on the shelf that can be labeled "counter-terrorism" is up for a lot more funding. You better find a counter-terrorism mission for your F-22 air superiority dream fighter."

Hitchens didn't even smile. Nothing seemed very funny in the two days since September 1 1 th. "How about your bunch of eggheads? Have you really got anything to contribute? Hitchens asked.

Landry was so used to the jibe that he let it pass through him. "It's the usual problem." he said. "The politicians and bureaucrats want proof. They want to take credit. We know we can send things back in time, but logically it's impossible to prove that we can materially change anything. We're the closest thing to Voodoo they've ever seen, so they suffer career fear and run away."

Hitchens leaned back in his chair and said, "Okay, so you can send some small object back in time. I've seen it work. And, just like throwing a ball, the heavier the object is the smaller the distance and the greater the distance back in time the worse the accuracy. Is that right?

"Yes," Landry replied. With the addition of heat and pressure. The object has to survive tremendous heat and pressure. We have had the best provable results with beads of fused quartz."

"So," Hitchens leaned forward, "We suspect we know who some of the hijackers were and even their assigned seats on the hijacked airplanes. We know for sure where the airplanes sat at the gate when they loaded. Wouldn't it be pretty easy to put some hot golden BBs into their foreheads before takeoff and spoil the whole attack plan?"

"Or," Landry picked up, "to at least pop some tires so the flight never took off.Yes. But, how do you know we didn't do that already? It's always the same logic problem. If we take an action to eliminate a problem in the past, then the problem never existed, so we never took any action because there wasn't any need to take action. We've had physicists, logicians, astronomers, and lots of smart people look at the problem. It's a logic trap. There is no way to leave ourselves a note telling us what we've already done.We can't prove we ever make a difference. In a science fiction movie, there would be spooky music and dimming lights when the past changed, but in the real world we have nothing to signal a change. We can do something, but not only don't we know if it worked, we don't know that we did it."

"Does anybody else have this capability?" Hitchens asked. "Didn't this whole thing originate in a Muslim country?

"Yes, in Indonesia." Landry replied. "But the Air Commandos did a pretty good job of closing down that operation in 1995. Nobody in government, business, or industry has ever given us a whiff that someone is working on time transportation. But, we'll never really know, will we? It was like the whole Vietnam project. We worked for a year and have no idea if we changed the past."

Hitchens drummed his fingers on his desk twice. "You're going to try to do something about the hijack attacks, right? They killed the Vice-President and a lot of the legislative branch along with thousands of citizens.They poisoned the land and sea up and down the East Coast with the attack on the Indian Point nuclear power plant. And then the twin towers and the Pentagon. Five successful strategic attacks in one morning! This can not be allowed to happen." He waved his hand in the direction of the Capitol building downtown where smoke still curled from the rubble.

Landry nodded. "Yes, we have to gather information and try things in increments. And, that's one reason why I'm here. I need two favors."

Hitchens made a come-on motion with his hand.

"First, I need you to keep the Air Force Reserve people off my turf at Homestead. I expect that the base will get crowded and the Reserve folks are already looking hard at

my pretty building so close to the flight line."When Hitchens nodded, Landry continued, "second, I want Ted Arthurs back. He has a real feeling for what we do."

Hitches shook his head. "I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but there are war drums beating all around this building.The political appointees in the SecDefs office are going nuts for blood.Arthurs is a seasoned F-16 squadron commander. He's not a resource I'm going to give away."

"But, his command tour is over." Landry replied. "You'll probably drag him here to the puzzle palace where he'll just be a very junior Lieutenant Colonel spending time at the fourth floor Pentagon copy center. He knows what we do, so we don't have to waste time making him believe it. He has a current background investigation so we'll be able to get him the clearances he'll need for the investigation. If we're effective, it would be like Ted having the ability to drive those hot glowing BBs into those guys. Where is he more valuable?"

"A ninety-day TDY. That's it." Hitchens said.

"Six months." Landry said. "I need his wife too and she won't come for just ninety days.'That was a minor fib, but Landry knew it had an element of truth.Hitchens pondered for a minute, called in his exec, and gave Landry what he wanted.

Landry worked his way down to the Pentagon bus ramps and ninety minutes later a bus deposited him at Dulles Airport. National Airport was closed indefinitely because

of its proximity to the Capitol. The military travel office at the Pentagon had gotten him a seat on a special military contract flight that was "relocating", that was the approved term of the moment, essential military personnel from NorthernVirginia.lt wasn't yet an official military evacuation. When it was mentioned at all, the relocation was described as a measure to ensure "continuity" of forces.To Landry, it looked like NSA was getting its spooks out of Vint Hill Farms in Northern Virginia and moving them to its facilities in Miami or down near Key WestThe contract flight was packed and it left on time.

It was late when he got out of the terminal at Miami International. National Guard troops carrying M-16s kept the light traffic moving through the terminal area. He walked to the long term parking area, pulling his rolling bag, until he saw a familiar figure waiting for him.Doctor Bill Wirtz, the project's operations director, had driven from Homestead to pick him up.Landry left the Pentagon feeling like he'd won a bet. But on the flight down to Miami he realized that while Hitchens was betting on him, it was a bet that nobody could ever collect.

HOMING IN ON MIAMI

Saturday, Sept 15, 2001
1500 Eastern
Homestead ARB, Homestead, FL

Excerpt from the Personal Narrative
of Brig Gen Fred Landry, PhD, (USAF Ret)

Recorded July 2006
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET/TA

"Ted and Sally provided the operational insight, the power and perspective we needed to stay balanced. Bringing them in on short notice was a surprise for them, but they were the only people in the world with the experience."

Lieutenant Colonel Ted Arthurs and his wife Sally arrived at the main gate of Homestead Air Reserve Base and presented their orders and ID cards to the augmented security patrols still jumpy after the attacks. The gate guards even opened the back doors of the Grand Cherokee to look over their three year old son Patrick who was asleep in his car seat. They made the drive from Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in North Carolina with only short stops, so they were stiff and tired. It had been a long slow drive because the highways were jammed with people fleeing the threat of nuclear fallout over New York and Philadelphia. A gate guard gave them a map and they followed it to a new building on a far corner of the base. The sign outside identified the

Homestead Detachment of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency. Neither one of them was surprised to see a windowless building with its own fenced electric power substation. The power feeders went off toward the Turkey Point nuclear power plant that could just be seen in the distance.

Ted was almost too tall to be an F-16 pilot. He always carefully pointed out that he had a long trunk. The distance from the hip to the knees is critical for fighter pilots because you don't want the canopy frame to kneecap you if you have to eject. He led his squadron's pilots through weight room activities and could grunt through the G forces of combat with the best of them. But, because of his time in special forces, he could swim and run too. He referred to his wife Sally as a "Statuesque Brunette". She was a slim five eleven Atlanta-Italian who hadn't put on much weight during pregnancy and had immediately lost it by swimming in the Seymour Johnson Officers' Club pool every morning. They both had engineering degrees, she was electrical and he was aerospace, and they were both quiet and analytical. When their analysis was in sync, they were extremely effective together. Their few arguments tended to have more proof statements and less invective than those of most married couples.