Escape To Yesterday - A Historical FOF2K4 Dynasty

[Franklinnoble]

*** This thread is the continuation of the "Interest Chargers" dynasty. ***

Prologue
London
May, 2054

Two men in dark suits chased Franklin down the escalator at the Bayswater station of the London Underground. Both in their early 30's, they were somewhat puzzled at how the 80 year old trillionaire had been able to outrun them so far.

Franklin grinned as he hopped on the orange line and sped out of sight of his pursuers. He'd change trains a few more times before he would arrive at Piccadilly Circus, just to be certain he wasn't followed. Then he would see what Oscar Baines had wanted to meet him for.

Baines had told him to meet him at the London Museum of Art. Franklin figured that it would be best to get off at the Piccadilly Station and walk the rest of the way. He was being closely followed almost constantly these days, and there was no such thing as being too careful.

He arrived at the museum and met Baines in front of a large Monet painting. Baines nodded at him and walked off. Franklin followed him from an inconspicuous distance until both men arrived in a women's bathroom that was marked "Closed for Cleaning."

Franklin remarked, "You know, in 80 years, this is my first time in one of these places."

"You've never been to an art museum?"

"No, I've never been in a ladies' restroom."

"Ah. Well, I figured this was the last place anyone would look. Let's go, then." Baines entered a stall and pointed a small remote at the toilet. The commode slid backwards and revealed a narrow staircase in the floor.

"That is so MI-6," remarked Franklin.

"Indeed. This way, Mr. Bond."

The staircase led to an underground room that was occupied mostly with shelves full of dusty boxes. A table near the furthest wall stood out as the only evidence of recent use; brimming with electronic equipment and computers that Franklin could not identify. Baines led him over to the table and picked up some sort of diagnostic device and pointed it at him. "How have you been feeling?"

"Fine," Franklin replied. "What is this place?"

Baines fiddled with some of the settings on his scanner. "It used to be an office for British intelligence during World War II. They seem to have forgotten about it for this war."

"That's probably because it doesn't matter. Even if Winston Churchill jumped out of his grave and started giving motivational speeches on the BBC again, we'd still lose the war."

"Well, you're in perfect health, and the nanites are working exactly as they're supposed to."

"It's weird. Sometimes I can actually 'hear' them."

"That's not surprising. They've got several colonies throughout your cerebral cortex. They respond better when they can tell what's on your mind."

"I guess that's good to know. But I don't think you called me out here just for a checkup." Not that it mattered. Great Britain was the last free nation in the world, and that would likely change in a matter of weeks. There was no place else to go. At least not for most people.

"I have an idea."

"That's what I've been paying you for over the last 20 years."

Baines grinned. "How would you like to go to the moon?"

"Are you trying to be funny?"

"No, I'm quite serious. The quantum gate needs a lot more work, and there's not going to be room to work around here for much longer. We need a safe distance between ourselves and the Canadians."

"Alright, genius. How are we going to get there?"

"You know that $4 billion dollars I spent about three years ago?"

"Yeah, on a bunch of old Russian satellite equipment. What evere happened to that stuff?"

"It's in Siberia. The Canadians trashed the warehouse, but completely missed the silos."

"Silos? Are you saying....?"

"I'm saying I have four rockets with Soyuz capsules ready to launch right now. There probably won't even be anyone guarding the complex. All I need is to get us and a few crates of equipment out there."

"And assuming we can actually get to Siberia without being shot, and launch rockets to the moon without being shot, and land safely on the moon, then what? It's not like we can pitch a tent and camp out up there for a few months."

"No, but the Japanese moon base is still intact."

"Those guys ran out of oxygen six months ago."

"I can solve the oxygen problem. We just need an air-tight roof over our heads."

"And what's keeping the Canadians from coming after us?"

"I have a solution for that, too. Just find a way to get us to Siberia, and I'll explain the rest on the way."

**** To Be Continued....

[JeeberD]

Did bbor launch a gas attack which lead to a nuclear holocaust???

[StanGunner]

OK ya got me reading. Bring it on!

[Franklinnoble]

Prologue - Continued

Canada had suffered terrible economic hardship in the 40's. Decades of socialist government had left the nation bankrupt. No economic aid was available, because most of the world had already given too much to the Canadians, and now they had their own problems. Food and fuel shortages hit America hard, and there was nothing to share with their neighbors to the north.

The United States had to close all its borders and refuse any immigrants or refugees. The Canadians were resentful and angry, and went as far as banning all imports from the USA and prohibiting all American civilian and military air traffic. With only Europe and Asia as trade partners, and little surplus to offer aside from timber, Canada's economic depression worsened beyond any hope of recovery; nearly every industry either collapsed or became government owned. The Canadian dollar wasn't worth the paper it was printed on, and became totally irrelevant on the international exchange.

There were over 60 million people in Canada, and most of them were starving and impoverished. In 2047, a militia uprising broke out, led by Thomas Nordberg. Nordberg commanded a force of over 100,000 angry men, and overthrew the government. The United States threatened to intervene, but Nordberg kept his promise to hold a general election to approve the new leadership and a new constitution. It passed overwhelmingly, as the people flocked to support the only strength they knew. Nordberg immediately instituted a program of mandatory conscription for all able-bodied men between the ages of 16 and 50. Most were made part of the new Canadian army. The rest were put to work on farms and on infrastructure projects. It was a new communist regime - everyone was employed by the government.

Naturally, the United States was not very comfortable with the developments in Canada. Most of the U.S. military had been reduced to long-range, aerial, and naval combat units. Nothing existed to deal with a force of over 10 million armed men that could simply walk onto American soil. The only comfort that the U.S. had was in the fact that the Canadian military was poorly equipped, had no air force, no heavy cavalry, and no nuclear arsenal.

The Canadians did, however, have many American sympathizers, and one of them committed an act of industrial sabotage that would change the face of the world.

***

Franklin Brown remained the owner of the Washington Redskins until the NFL ceased operations at the outbreak of the Canadian war. The team had been a perennial powerhouse under his stewardship, and had made him a very wealthy man. Long before there was any inkling of trouble in the north, Franklin had diversified his assets. One doesn’t merely leave a quarter of a billion dollars in annual income in a savings account. He had bought a respectable portfolio of stocks and bonds, and had provided venture capital for dozens of start-up enterprises. Many had failed, but a few had prospered fantastically, and one would prove to be the catalyst for the bloodiest war in history.

Oscar Baines was working on his doctoral thesis at Penn State when he met Franklin for the first time. Franklin still made a habit of scouting his first round draft picks in person, and was at the campus to see a linebacker work out. Baines had approached him at the stadium and handed him a coal black piece of plastic, roughly the shape and size of a piece of paper and only slightly thicker.

“I’m going to need a silver marker or something if you want an autograph here, kid.”

“I don’t want your autograph, Mr. Brown. That’s the future of manufacturing.”

“How so? Are we going to make toasters by practicing origami or something?”

Baines smiled. “What you’re holding isn’t paper, and it isn’t plastic. It’s a sheet made of malleable, programmable carbon nanotubes. It’s tougher than steel, and if it were to break, it would remember how to put itself back together.”

“Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you’re a venture capitalist.”

“And you think this will make money? Even if you’re not totally bullshitting me here, I’m guessing that in order to manufacture anything aside from a sheet of paper requires a complex and expensive process that you haven’t even mastered in theory yet.”

Baines grinned even wider. “I made bulletproof paper on a college campus, Mr. Brown. Imagine what I can do for you with a proper laboratory.”

“When do you graduate, kid?”

“Not for another year and a half.”

“Well, here,” Franklin handed him a business card. “Why don’t you call me after you’re done with school?”

***

Baines didn’t wait. Less than a week after their meeting, he had sent a complete and detailed business plan to Franklin’s office, including a digital presentation of what his nanotube manufacturing could really do, and what it would take to make it work. Franklin flew him to Washington for a meeting.

“You’re gonna quit school to do this?”

“I’m only in school to do this. What’s the point of staying there with such limited resources?”

“You don’t care if you don’t get your PhD?”

“No. I’ll make enough money without it, I’m sure.”

Franklin gave him his capital. He would remain 75% owner of Colossal Micro Laboratories, and Baines would own the rest. Within two years, CML had developed the technology to allow complete digital design and fabrication of simple parts and components. The company had 30 employees, and one day, one of them went on vacation and never returned.

***

Andrew Palmer became a United States citizen by marriage just four years before the border to Canada was closed. The federal government had erected a three-layered fence along the border that was nearly impossible to cross. When Thomas Nordberg came to power in his homeland, Palmer made the decision to return to Canada and offer his services to his country. He had been with CML for over a year, and had stolen nearly every secret from the lab and stored it on his handheld computer.

He almost didn’t make it. His plan was to cross the border in Montana – along one of long, uninhabited stretches of wilderness. He bought a Jeep and a dirtbike, and drove as close as he could to the fence. Even if the monitoring system along the border detected him, it would take at least 20 minutes for border agents to reach him by helicopter. The real problem was that the middle layer of the fence would become electrified if an intrusion was detected.

Palmer’s plan to dynamite holes in the fences worked fine. What he hadn’t anticipated was being shot by the Canadian border patrol who found him after he had been on the other side for about 45 minutes. Automatic gunfire had left bullets in his stomach and spine, and he only barely survived to remain crippled for the rest of his life. He was spared execution after he had convinced Canadian authorities of his intentions and had shown them the data he had with him. Six months later, he was in a secret laboratory in northern Manitoba, working to create a means of manufacturing the arms of a hostile nation.

***

When the Canadian air force sent 10,000 fighter/bomber jets across the border armed with low-yield nuclear warheads, America could do little to stop them. Military installations and major cities were devastated in less than half a day. Following the planes were millions of Canadian troops, well-armed and fast-moving on countless hordes of armored personnel carriers. America launched a full tactical nuclear assault against Canada, and had most of its warheads intercepted.

Most, but not all. After the theft at CML, Franklin had contacted the U.S. government to inform them of the severity of the breach. While little was done in the immediate aftermath, the Pentagon began to pay close attention to what Oscar Baines had to say after large factories and warehouses began showing up on satellite photos over Manitoba almost overnight. Before anything could be done to raise the tactical preparedness of the U.S. military, the Canadian war machine had built thousands of planes, vehicles, and weapons, all in less than two months. CML had the technology to match the production, but it was too little, too late. Franklin had Baines set up shop in Great Britain, and Baines modified the guidance systems on 225 intercontinental ballistic missiles for the U.S. Government. Those were launched along with the rest of the American arsenal at Canada, and specifically at the nanotech manufacturing facilities in Manitoba.

They hit their mark, and Canada had lost its manufacturing capabilities, but the damage was done. Ten million Canadians, armed to the teeth, overran the United States in just months. A similar fate later befell Russia, then Asia, and then Europe and Africa. Few nations bothered to keep large standing armies anymore, and Canada took advantage. They plundered their conquered nations to re-supply themselves as they continued to march over the globe, and it was only the nano-manufacturing plants in Great Britain that kept the Canadian onslaught at bay for a brief period of time.

But you can’t hold off an army of millions forever, and it would not be long before the Canadians overran the British Isles.

***

Fortunately for Franklin and Oscar, the Canadians had not done a very good job of securing the lands they had conquered. There were countless bands of resistance all over the globe, and the Canadians were content to destroy the conventional military in each nation and then move on, with the intention of eventually killing nearly every dissenting person on the planet. Over 200 million Americans had been butchered already, and nobody was really sure whether or not the Canadian army would run out of steam before they had killed just about everyone else on the planet.

In the meantime, securing passage through Europe and into Siberia was easier than expected. Everybody wanted to help anybody who said they were on a mission to fight back against the Canadians, and after less than a week, the two men were at the deserted Siberian scientific compound that Baines had said would be their salvation. The place was unguarded, and the men loaded the Soyuz capsules without incident.

“What happens when we launch these rockets and they scramble jets to intercept?” Franklin asked Baines.

“First of all, they’d have to be really, really good to intercept one of these rockets.”

“Suppose they are…”

“They’ll never make it.”

“Why?”

“Because I have two satellites in low orbit right above us. If anything approaches us on the way up, it’s toast.”

“How?”

“Concentrated E.M.P., followed by a nasty fusion-powered laser. The E.M.P. will destroy the nanomachines ability to self-heal, and the laser will do the rest.”

“I assume you have a similar apparatus ready to set up on the moon base, should we get any unexpected guests?”

“No, I have ten similar satellites ready to deploy around the moon. In the event that the Canadians can figure out how to launch a spacecraft against us – which I doubt they can do, unless they’ve got scientific American sympathizers – it will be disabled and disintegrated long before it can ever reach the moon.”

“Well, let’s get moving, then. We may not have much time.”

“Where we’re going, time won’t be much of a factor.”

*** To Be Continued...

[StanGunner]

I never knew the Canadians were so bloodthirsty. Guess I was lulled by the fact that so many are comics. Of course I have heard that comics are maladjusted, unhappy and disgruntled at heart. It probably all stemmed from the triple whammy of GST, HST and PST. I live just across the border. This is just another reason to move south.

[Franklinnoble]

Samurai Lunar Research Center
September, 2054

In the four months that they had been on the moon, the Canadians had only made two attempts to overtake them. In the first, they had launched an old Atlas V rocket directly towards the moon base - presumably with a cargo of several commandos in space suits. They were immediately disintigrated as soon as they were within range of the defense satellites.

Their second attempt was more aggressive, but equally futile. They launched a volley of ICBM towards the base as a diversionary tactic, while three Atlas rockets were sent behind from various trajectories to land ground troops. Baines grinned as the rockets approached.

"Watch this..." he said.

Franklin was observing the inbound ICBM's on the large monitor in the command center. There had to be nearly a dozen of them. "Can your satellites take out that many at a time?"

"The satellites could take out a hundred times that many - but I'm not going to destroy them completely." The ICBM's kept on course towards the base. Two of them were suddenly vaporized in a flash of light.

"That's only two, chief... the others are coming in fast."

"Those two are the only ones on course to make a direct impact with the structure. I'm going to let the others land around the perimeter."

"Can you explain why that's a good idea?"

"The EMP took out their guidance and detonation systems. They're flying duds right now. I can salvage the warheads after they've landed."

"Isn't the radiation dangerous if they crack open?"

"This structure is designed to shield us from all sorts of radiation in that event. The rovers will be doing the salvaging, and remove any dirty warheads. The rest we can use."

"For what?"

"I dunno... I just thought it'd be cool to have a few nuclear warheads lying around."

Franklin looked up at the screen again. Sure enough, the ICBMs were falling towards the base, but their propulsion systems had cut out, and they were about to crash harmlessly about the perimiter of the facility. There were still three Atlas rockets inbound. "I guess we have to toast those guys."

"Yep. We can't afford to let them land. There could be dozens of troops on board, and I'd rather not take our chances with the ground perimeter defenses." Baines punched a few buttons on his console, and the rockets were vaporized instantaneously.

"You think they'll give up after that?"

"Well, if they knew what we were doing up here, they wouldn't. But from a tactical standpoint, they've got to realize that they just can't keep sending rockets up here and expecting to get through. The defense satellites are too good for that."

"Let's just try to finish up here before they try again."

The quantum gate was nearing completion. The problem was that there was no way to safely test it. Using it was a one-shot deal, and it had to be perfect. Another two months passed before Baines declared the gate ready to go.

The "gate" was actually an apparatus mounted upon a modified Soyuz capsule. There was no point in going back in time while standing on the moon. The capsule would be launched from the moon, then the gate would be activated. With any luck, the capsule would arrive at a point in time in the past, and could then be navigated towards the Earth for a normal landing.

"You realize," Baines said, "That you're going alone, right?"

"Why's that?"

"Because if this doesn't work, I need to be the one left behind to try it again."

"What if it does work?"

"I'll never know."

"I don't get it."

Baines sat down at a chair in the hangar where the final preparations were being made to the capsule. "If you go back in time with this thing, you can't come back to the future."

"You haven't figured out how to go forward yet? Why don't you work on that before we launch?"

"Because it's theoretically impossible to go forward in time. When you arrive in the past, you'll instantly create a temporal paradox. This future, and every moment that happened after your arrival, will cease to exist. Simply entering the earth's atmosphere will likely affect the outcome of world events and permanantly alter this timeline."

"I thought we were going far enough back to avoid detection."

"We are, but that's not the issue. You'll change everything you touch, and that will have a ripple effect worldwide - an effect that will only be magnified with the passage of time. When you first arrive, you can count on certain events to happen as you know them to occur historically, but after a while, things will deviate greatly from what you expect."

"So, really, I don't have to do anything but show up, and it'll probably prevent this war."

"Probably, but you'd better make sure. You have to interrupt the Nordberg bloodline."

"So, I kill his great-great-great grandmother or something?"

"I don't think you need to be that drastic. Use the nanogun and program the nanites for simple sterilization. His ancestors will never have kids, and he'll never exist. You go about life as normally as you possibly can."

"That seems pretty simple."

"It really is. You'll have the ability to affect major changes in history, but you should really focus on keeping an eye on would-be despots and keeping them out of power, especially when nanotechnology begins to become a scientific reality."

"How am I going to do that? I'm already 80 years old."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? You're getting younger daily. I turned off the anti-aging inhibitors on your nanites - in a week, you'll look and feel like a 20 year old."

"And I can expect to arrive sometime in the 1920's and hang around over a hundred years to keep an eye on rouge nanotechnology?"

"Theoretically, unless you experience a very gruesome accident of some sort, you should live indefinately - I don't know for sure, but my data suggests the nanites can keep you alive as long as you eat regularly and/or get some occassional sunshine."

"So that's it then... you launch me in this thing, and you're basically committing suicide for yourself and everyone else living in this timeline so we can start all over."

"What's the alternative, Franklin? You've been watching the news feeds from Earth. The Canadians have killed billions, and enslaved the rest. There's nothing left to save in this timeline. Our only hope is in the past."

[StanGunner]

Maybe Franklin can also help the Bills win one of their SuperBowls?

[Franklinnoble]

Samurai Lunar Research Center
October, 2054

Franklin woke up to the muffled sounds of explosions on the morning of October 31, 2054. Somebody had started the trick-or-treating a little early, it seemed. He jogged down to the command center in his sweatpants and saw that Oscar was already at the main console, furiously punching away at the keyboard.

"Damned Canadians. They were never this persistant before they became world dominators," Baines fumed.

"What's going on?" Franklin looked up at the main screen. It appeared as if thousands of projectiles were inbound towards the base.

"Oh, they're trying to be clever. They've sent up about four hundred rockets with custom warheads, each packed with about five hundred or so small guided rockets. The warheads pop just outside the range of the perimeter satellites, and the guided rockets are too small and too numerous for them to pick off. They've managed to take out one satellite, and there have been thousands coming towards us for the last 10 minutes or so."

"So we're screwed?"

"Don't be silly. I've got laser cannons, EMP guns, and conventional machine guns all over the ground here, and they're keeping most of them off us. Besides, the guided rockets are too small to pack much of a punch. It would take a few dozen direct hits just to crack the dome in one area, and even that wouldn't be a critical amount of damage, as I've got the entire structure nano-coated for self-repair."

"Then why do they bother?"

"Because they can. Because there's nothing left on Earth to really pick on, and we're a nice challenge for them. And because I think this is just the first of many attacks meant to wear down our defenses and create a diversion for a more potent assault. Let's face it, they have considerable resources at their disposal, and we're only two men up here - sooner or later, they will break through."

"Are we still going to try to launch today?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to have this mess cleared up in a bit. Put that on." Baines pointed at a stack of clothing sitting on a chair across the room.

Franklin picked up a plain looking cotton button-up shirt, wool slacks, socks, and leather shoes. "I assume this is supposed to look like 1920's clothing?"

"Well, you won't stick out or anything, and that's the general idea. You'll get by until you can buy new clothes."

"I don't have a spacesuit to wear in the capsule or anything?"

"Please. What's the point? If that capsule cracks, chances are you've been hit with something that no spacesuit will stop."

"Right." Franklin got dressed and went over the inventory of what he was bringing back with him. There was a briefcase with a small computer and about $5,000 in 1920 US dollars. He couldn't take any more paper currency than that, as the US dollar was still on a gold standard, and too much counterfeit money could dramatically affect the economy. Besides, that was more than enough to get started, and he would have another means of income upon his arrival. The three large black foot lockers contained everything he would need to prosper in the past, as well as what he needed to secure the future.

About two hours later, Oscar was satisfied that the airspace was clear, and began to prepare the capsule for launch. The booster rocket was remarkably short, as there wasn't much gravity to clear on the moon. He went over the plan again with Franklin.

"Alright, so you'll get about 500 miles clear of the moon, and engage the quantum gate. It won't be like in the movies... no flashy lights or flux capacitor or anything like that; but you'll probably emerge a little disoriented, and there's a real good chance you'll be no where near Earth orbit."

"That's not very comforting."

"Well, this isn't something I can be more exact about. I can program the gate to land you sometime between 1920 and 1922, but it won't get any closer. My short-term experiments have proven that the device is less accurate over longer jumps. So, I could send you back five days or so, and nail it within 10 seconds, but 135 years is a bigger deal. Anyhow, it's highly likely that you'll end up well outside current Earth orbit, and you'll have to navigate towards the planet for re-entry."

"Right... so, I end up in the same place in space, just a different time. But isn't the entire solar system moving? I could end up a billion miles from Earth."

"Unlikely. The quantum gate uses the nearest, largest gravity source as its point of reference - in this case, the sun - and you will be transported to a point and place in time in relation to that."

"Ok. I'm not gonna end up emerging inside Halley's Comet or anything like that?"

"It's theoretically possible, but unlikely. The whole point of doing this in space is to reduce the likelihood of you encountering any other matter on the other end to a statistical improbability along the lines of being struck by a bolt of lightning."

"And the on-board computer will handle most of the navigation and re-entry?"

"Correct. I've already programmed it to drop you in a valley in central Virginia. In the 1920's, there's no roads in that area for a good 20 miles all the way around. You'll have plenty of time to hide the capsule and then hike out. Then just stick to the plan."

Franklin nodded. He was as ready as he was ever going to be. He set his briefcase inside the capsul, and shook Oscar's hand. "Thanks for everything, Oscar. Are you sure you won't come with me?"

Oscar shook his head, "No, especially not after this morning. I need to be here in case the capsule fails, or if they try another attack. I will assume you've gotten lost if I'm still here after you open the gate, and I'll try to figure out what went wrong so I can make another attempt."

Franklin nodded. "Alright, well, I'm not one for mushy good-byes. Let's light this candle and get this done."

Oscar grinned. "Get strapped in. It might get a little bumpy."

Franklin got seated in the capsule and pressed the button to seal the door. Oscar's voice came on over the speakers. "All set?"

Franklin finished buckling the harness, "Yep."

"All right... here we go." And without so much as a countdown, the capsule surged upwards, slamming Franklin's head back against the padded headrest. The initial launch lasted only a few minutes, and then he heard from Oscar one last time.

"You're clear. Just hit the pretty blue button to activate the gate. Good luck."

Franklin reached up and pressed the button. He was suddenly struck by a piercing ringing noise and then given a terrible jolt. Then everything went black.

[Franklinnoble]

Somewhere about 90 million miles from the sun
May, 1921

Franklin awoke in a fog, his vision blurred and his head pounding. He hadn't felt pain or discomfort like this since before he'd been injected with the nanomachines; he wondered how bad he'd feel if he didn't enjoy the benefits of an enhanced metabolism.

He rubbed his eyes and looked at the on-board computer monitor. It was awaiting his command, and had already calculated his location, and, more importantly, the current time.

04:32 A.M., Eastern Standard Time.

May 18, 1921.

"Holy shit, it worked..." Franklin muttered. He brought up the graphic that showed his current position. He was about 2 million miles from Earth - miraculously close, under the circumstances. Assuming the capsule was in good working order (the diagnostics verified it), he could be on the ground in 2-3 days. He plotted the course and hit the fusion reactor ignition, and the capsule sped off towards home.

***

Despite the fact that he could have been stuck weeks or months from Earth, Franklin cursed the distance after the second day, as 48 hours in a cramped capsule without a bathroom was a long time indeed. He had finally achieved orbit of the planet, and the computer was making final calculations for re-entry. He verified that the nanomylar parachute system was prepped and ready to deploy, and then gave the order to initiate the landing. The navigational thrusters fired, and then he began the bumpy descent into the atmosphere.

Sure enough, the capsule's chute deployed, and he made a soft landing in the middle of a forest about 40 miles southwest of Richmond, Virginia. The area was suitably remote, and he had made the landing late at night, so as to avoid detection. No doubt some stargazers would have seen him lighting up the upper atmosphere, but it was unlikely that anyone had a telescope that could tell it wasn't just a meteorite making its way to the ground. He stepped out of the capsule and enjoyed the opportunity to stretch his legs and relieve himself, then immediately went to work setting up camp. He had about 5 hours before dawn, and he wanted to get some sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

[StanGunner]

WOW!! Long time between chapters. Keep it coming Franklin

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by StanGunner

WOW!! Long time between chapters. Keep it coming Franklin

Thanks... I had a few rough months there with a lot of personal stuff getting in the way, but I've been itching to get back to this for a while. Don't worry, I'll actually have some more football in the storyline here soon enough.

[Franklinnoble]

Ashburn, VA
July, 1922

Four-thousand acres of prime Northern Virginia real estate was a lot cheaper these days. Franklin grinned as he thought about how much his home would be worth in about 75 years. He sat on the porch of the large, two-story brick colonial style mansion and looked out at the horses grazing in the pasture. In just over a year, he had already managed to establish himself as one of the most affluent men in the Washington, D.C. area, and he was preparing to move on to the next phase of his mission.

The first few days after his landing had been rough. He had to bury the capsule and its contents, then hike nearly 20 miles to the nearest town, where he bought a horse (nobody had a car for sale) and then headed to Richmond, where he immediately began his career in banking.

While he was only able to bring $5,000 in paper currency, there was almost no limit to what his portable nanofactory could create for him – including a hefty sum in gold bars. He announced to the manager of the Colonial Bank of Richmond that he had struck it rich with a family goldmine in California, and that he had decided to bring his good fortune back east. His initial deposit was large enough to grant him a seat on the bank’s board of directors, and within three months, he became the new owner.

Moving the capsule had been a tricky prospect. He had purchased a home on the outskirts of Richmond, and brought a team of horses back to the landing site with a large wagon. It took three days to reach the road, where he had a pickup and a trailer waiting. The capsule rested in a shed in his backyard until the new estate in Ashburn had been completed. It now sat in the basement, and had become a part of his underground office/laboratory.

Franklin had diversified his holdings considerably in his first year, purchasing large tracts of real estate, and stocks in companies he knew would do well (well, at least until October of 1929). The wealth wasn’t necessary for his mission, nor was it really historically responsible, but he had grown accustomed to a comfortable lifestyle, and he saw no reason not to embrace one now, since the timeline was shot to hell anyway.

The challenge now was doing what he really came here to do – prevent the birth of Thomas Nordberg and Andrew Palmer. He had done detailed genealogy research on both men long before he’d left the future, and had a good idea where to find their direct ancestors in this time period. Nordberg’s was simple enough – there was a Randall Nordberg who was a student at Boston College starting in the fall. He was to be married and have children in the next 6 years. Palmer was a little more difficult. There was no record of a living paternal relative in this timeline (at least not yet), but he had a maternal ancestor living somewhere in Los Angeles by the name of Amanda Roberts. She would become pregnant by some unknown chap in just under 4 years, and bear the next known Palmer ancestor. Franklin had already hired the Pinkerton detective agency to track down Roberts, and he expected to know her exact whereabouts within a month or so. Information moved a lot more slowly without the internet, television, or even a national radio broadcast network, but he was already concocting plans to capitalize on that.

[finkenst]

Yay! You're back!

[Franklinnoble]

Alright... I'm trying to decide here... I have a few idea for some more plot twists and such... would you care to read that, or would you rather I got on with the football portion of this dynasty?

[Franklinnoble]

I've posted a poll... feel free to comment here, and vote there:

http://dynamic2.gamespy.com/~fof/for...ad.php?t=26033

[Franklinnoble]

Chestnut Hill, MA
October, 1922

Franklin sat in a Ford Model T outside Barney’s Tavern as the rain poured down over the small Massachusetts borough. Randall Nordberg spent nearly every Friday night at Barney’s, according to the report he’d been given by the private detective that had watched him for the last three months. Franklin would wait for him to leave the tavern and begin his walk home before he would strike.

He was wearing a pair of phony spectacles that actually granted him enhanced night vision and a 20x zoom when he needed it. With them, he saw clearly through the rain, and was able to carefully examine the face of every person that emerged from the tavern. His detective had provided him with several photographs of Nordberg, and the resemblance to his world-dominating descendant was uncanny.

Sure enough, Nordberg emerged from the tavern shortly before midnight. Good. Franklin thought. I won’t have to stay up too late. Franklin checked the palm-sized nanogun once more to make sure it was ready to fire. It was a nondescript matte black dart pistol that was easily disassembled and concealed, and it would fire a painless, laser-guided dart at its target that contained a cache of nanomachines with one simple mission – sterilization. Nordberg wouldn’t even know he’d been hit, and while he might enjoy a fulfilling sex life for his remaining years, he would produce no children.

Nordberg’s path would take him right in front of the rolled-down passenger window of the Model-T, and Franklin wasn’t even looking in his direction when he fired the nanogun and hit his target. Nordburg rubbed his arm as if he’d been pinched, but continued walking, oblivious to what had just happened.

***

Los Angeles, CA
November, 1922

The Pacific Coast Diner was a small surf-and-turf restaurant not far from present-day downtown Los Angeles. Franklin sat at a table by the window reading a newspaper and sipping a glass of lemonade as his waitress returned.

“You ready to order, hon?” She was a short brunette with blue eyes. The nametag on her dress read ‘Amanda.’

“Yes, I think I’ll have the grilled trout and roasted potatoes.” Franklin replied.

“Soup or salad?”

“Salad, please. No dressing.”

Amanda jotted down the order and walked back towards the kitchen. She never noticed the dart that hit the back of her leg. Franklin tipped her generously after he finished his lunch and headed back to the train station for his return trip to Virginia.

[stkelly52]

So are you ever going to finish this one?

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by stkelly52

So are you ever going to finish this one?

Yep.

Here's the deal. I do most of this sort of thing while I'm at work. I have two kids at home, and there's just no time.

My job situation has been pretty brutal since November. I just now started a new, permanent position that I'm hopeful will grant me some modicum of stability for the forseeable future. With that in mind, I've installed FOF2k4 on my work PC, and am preparing the historical league for this dynasty.

Oh, and I still have a few nice plot twists to throw out there. They'll come later... when our hero least expects it.

[Franklinnoble]

Auburn, VA
October, 1924

It had been almost two years since Franklin had completed his primary mission in the past, and he was getting a little stir crazy. There wasn't much of a nanotechnology threat to worry about for the next 75 years or so, and he was eager to find a project that could keep him busy in the meantime.

He had already secured several fortunes - his historical and technological advantage had seen to that. He knew things would get rough in a few years when the market was due to crash, but that would have little effect on his lifestyle; he was more worried about bigger issues, like what, if anything, he should do about things like World War II. He could go to Germany and kill Adolf Hitler right now. No one would ever miss him...

Alas, no, he decided. America became the world's strongest democracy because of the military and technological growth spurred by World War II. Right now, America was a seclusionist culture, and might stay that way without the upcoming war.

So, he would let international politics run their course for now. But that wouldn't stop him from making a huge historical change - one that would keep him busy while he waited out the next several decades.

Professional Football hardly existed at this point. There were a few fledgling leagues, but nothing that could compete with the current king of American sports leagues (baseball). Franklin had maneuvered himself into a position to change all that. He was a large shareholder in companies like AT&T and RCA - companies that were on the leading edge of radio technology. Radio stations were still scattered and disorganized at this point, but that was changing. Broadcast networks were about to be launched, and Franklin was using his influence to push that along. He had big plans for negotiating broadcast rights for college sports, major league baseball, horse racing, and boxing - but that would be just the foundation.

He knew that the modern NFL reached its apex thanks to collectively bargained television broadcast contracts and revenue sharing. There was no reason why these concepts couldn't be applied a few decades early to radio. Of the handful of current professional teams, Franklin had bought a controlling interest or purchased outright. He would assemble a nation-wide league under his vision, then gradually sell-off interests in the teams over time, as more investors began to realize the profit potential of the game.

He'd lose a ton of money in the early years, to be certain. But he had money to spare, and lots ot time to kill, and, most importantly, he missed the game. It had been over 10 years (for him, anyway) since he'd given up his ownership of the Redskins when the NFL ceased operations at the start of the Canadian war. He wanted to get back into the game, and he was going to do it in a big way. Plans were being finalized, and soon he would make the announcement to the national news media. The NFL was about to be re-born, bigger and better than anyone had ever imagined.

[Franklinnoble]

Washington, D.C.
January, 1925

There was snow on the field at Griffith Stadium, and a few dozen reporters grumbled about the fact that they had been invited to an outdoors press conference in January for some mysterious reason.

They all showed up because their editors (and in some cases, their publishers) told them to. No other details were given, and many of them wondered why nearly every national newspaper had sent a sports writer to Washington for this event.

A small stage and podium had been set up in front of the bleachers on the field, and after a few minutes of waiting, a man walked up and began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming out here today. My name is Franklin Brown, and I'm here to share a vision with you."

One bold reporter cracked, "Why don't you share it indoors, buddy?"

Franklin smiled. "Because I want you to imagine this vision being realized on this field, and 31 others just like it, all across America." For the first time, some of the reporters realized that the field, usually used for baseball, had been re-configured for football. "I am here to announce the birth of the National Football League, a professional football league that will revolutionize the game and the world of professional sports."

There was some muttering amongst the reporters, most of it highly skeptical. Franklin continued. "There will be 32 teams total. Two conferences, with four divisions each. My aides are passing out a list of the teams to you now. The league will initially maintain ownership of all 32 teams, and gradually divest its interest in them over time. General managers have already been hired for each team, and a league-wide draft will be underway in New York City in two weeks." The reporters received a piece of paper with a list of the teams:

American Conference

Eastern Division
Boston Patriots
Providence Steam Roller
Buffalo Rangers
Hartford Blues

Northern Division
Cleveland Browns
Pittsburgh Steelers
Cincinnati Bengals
Milwaukee Badgers

Southern Division
Houston Oilers
Miami Dolphins
Tampa Bay Buccaneers
Baltimore Colts

Western Division
Denver Broncos
Oakland Raiders
Kansas City Chiefs
San Diego Chargers

National Conference

Eastern Division
Washington Redskins
New York Giants
Dallas Cowboys
Philadelphia Eagles

Northern Division
Green Bay Packers
Minnesota Vikings
Chicago Bears
Detroit Lions

Southern Division
Canton Bulldogs
Columbus Tigers
Atlanta Falcons
New Orleans Saints

Western Division
St. Louis Cardinals
San Francisco 49ers
Los Angeles Rams
Seattle Seahawks

Franklin paused for a moment and gave the reporters time to read through the list. Then he asked for questions.

"Thirty-two teams is an awful lot. How are you going to pay for this?"

Franklin smiled. "Good question. The league will be underwritten by me for right now, until it becomes profitable. National radio broadcast contracts have been arranged, and revenue from those will be shared amongst all teams, as will a large percentage of ticket and merchandising revenue."

"What about the players that already have professional contracts?"

"I have purchased all existing professional teams and either dissolved them or merged them into the NFL. Players with contracts have been bought out, and will be made draft eligible."

"Why so many teams?"

"I want the league to have room to grow in every major city in America. I expect after some time, certain teams may re-locate to other markets, but I want a large, competitive league structure in place that can last for many, many years."

"Who is eligible for the draft?"

"Any person who has been graduated from high school for at least three years. We do not wish to seriously comprimise the talent available to the college game, and we feel that professional players should be 100% physically mature before entering the game. We expect that a lot of men who have enjoyed distinguished college careers anytime in the last 10 years will be getting phone calls in the next few days from our general managers."

"Why would someone who has a college degree and a steady job want to play football instead?"

"Because we're going to pay them very generously to do so. NFL salaries will be higher than that of any athlete in the world, and will assure a comfortable living for any player in the league, even at the bottom of the pay scale."

"When are the games going to be played?"

"Sunday afternoons and evenings, and possibly even Monday nights. We don't want to compete directly with college games on Saturday. All the stadiums in the league will have lights for night games."

Franklin fielded more questions for the remainder of the hour, then excused himself. The reporters disbursed, shaking their heads in disbelief. It was a crazy idea, most of them decided, but they were all under orders to take it seriously and write about it, so the next day, every paper in the nation carried stories about the new football league. Advertisements were placed in each paper for tryout camps in each city that was to host a team, and general managers from each team gave interviews to their local papers and radio stations promoting the new home teams. The league draft was just two weeks away, and the NFL had to find enough talent to fill its rosters.

[Franklinnoble]

Washington, D.C.
September, 1925

The Redskins first game of the season was at home against the Hartford Blues. The stadium was only maybe a third full, and a lot of those had been tickets that were given away. Franklin stood in the owner's box at the top of the stands and surveyed the scene. Not much attention had been given to any of the pre-season games, but there was a relatively full press box next door, and they were about to see football like they had never seen it before.

Leather helmets with no facemasks were still standard at this point; there simply hadn't been any alternative. However, the rest of the NFL rules were thoroughly modernized, and the people would be witnessing them for the first time. He had given a two-week seminar on modern offensive and defensive schemes to the GM's and coaches in the league, and told them emphatically that traditional football strategy simply would not work in the new league. It was not an easy message to get across, and Franklin suspected that, for a while at least. many teams would still run the ball a lot more than they passed it.

Another big difference was the roster sizes. None of the coaches were accustomed to having so many players at their disposal. In fact, many players were disappointed at the idea of not playing both ways. It would take some getting used to, but Franklin figured that he could ensure that his Redskins would lead by example, and the other teams would have to follow the example if they expected to be competitive.

The referees were all-new. None of them had any experience in football at all. This was deliberate. If the new rules were going to take hold, they had to be enforced by men who had no prior prejudice towards the old rules.

It would probably take several years for the design to truly take form. There wasn't much talent in the league right now, and few recognizeable names. The Bears had Red Grange, and the Bulldogs were going to try to get a few more years out of Jim Thorpe, but aside from that, nobody was familiar to the fans yet. But the money was good for the players, and college players were sure to be attracted to the game in years to come.

In the meantime, Franklin was content to be back at the helm of a football team. His Redskins didn't do much to usher in his new vision of a more spectacular offensive brand of football, edging by the Blues by a score of 10-7. Ah, well. A win was a win, and the NFL was off to a good start.

[Franklinnoble]

**** Just a side note ****

If anyone has historical players that they would like to see in the game, let me know. Please make them relevant to the timeframe that the dynasty is presently in. I could only come up with a few names for the 1925 season (Grange, Thorpe... Lambeau is also playing for the Packers, but he was really a better coach than player ). If you have a good player you'd like to suggest, post it here, and I'll see about re-naming a player on a current roster. I may even play around with custom draft files... I know that there aren't any historical draft files until 1970, so this dynasty (if it lasts that long) will be mostly fictional until then.

[Franklinnoble]

Ashburn, VA
January, 1926

The Redskins had started the season 3-0, but ended it 6-10. Inexperience had simply caught up with them. Franklin had deliberately drafted last, and drafted young players only, and in the short term, that meant his squad was outmatched against a league full of older, more experienced competition. There were signs of promise; Thomas Kent, their young QB who had played for Florida two years ago and was working on his family farm in Ohio when he had been drafted, had passed for over 3800 yards in his rookie season. He was hardly the most talented quarterback Franklin had seen - not even in the top ten - but he might be good enough to make the Redskins a contenting team in another year or two.

The Miami Dolphins won the first Super Bowl, defeating the Detroit Lions by a score of 16-7. The Dolphins were led by stud RB Stuart Barton, who led the league in rushing with 1623 yards, and was named Super Bowl MVP, League MVP, and Offensive Player of the Year.

The league was not yet profitable, but it had done better financially than most people expected. Ticket sales were good, and the radio networks had enjoyed decent ratings as America tuned in to the NFL on Sunday afternoons. Ownership interests began to appear, with Henry Ford purchasing a stake in the Lions, and Norman Rockefeller buying a piece of the Giants.

Franklin hadn't even seen that many of his team's games. He spent most of the season on the road, scouting college talent for the upcoming draft. Film of college games wasn't widely available at this point, so there was no substitute for in-person scouting. The Redskins were picking 8th overall, and had a lot of holes to fill, especially on defense.

[Franklinnoble]

New York City
April, 1926

It was draft day for the NFL, and the league had rented out the newly opened Madison Square Garden for the event. There were no players on hand, and the occassion hardly resembled the modern NFL draft.

There weren't any sports publications in 1926. There was no leauge-wide rating of available draft picks, and very little media prognostication over the outcome of the draft. Each team was left to its own devices when it came to selecting the picks, and Franklin was already making plans to organize a scouting combine before next years draft.

For now, the arena was filled with NFL GM's, owners, and scouts, each huddled around their own tables, with a stage at the end of the arena fitted with a podium and a large blackboard. The picks for each round would be written on the blackboard, and each team would be given 15 minutes to make their selection.

Franklin had hired a man by the name of Jack Redman to be the commissioner of the league. Everyone knew that Franklin still ran the show, but Redman had taken over most of the basic day-to-day administrative duties of the league, and was given charge over things like settling contract disputes and levying fines for rules violations. He would also oversee the draft.

The Redskins needed help all over their defense. In the first year draft, they had loaded up on young offensive talent, but they had done so at the expense of the defense. There had been some good players available in free agency, but the bidding for them had gotten out of hand early, and Franklin knew much better than the other owners and GM's the perils of signing large contracts against a limited salary cap. He would build the team through the draft and perhaps a few smart trades, leaving free agency alone unless there was a glaring need that could be quickly and cheaply filled.

There were two defensive tackles at the top of the Redskins wish list. After that, there was a definate drop-off in the available talent. They were:

Emmanuel Nabors - Oregon State
Gary Lofton - Florida State

Nabors was arguably the best player in the draft, but a lot of other teams knew that. It would be a small miracle if he fell all the way to #8.

The draft began, and Nabors was taken right away by the Los Angeles Rams, who had the #1 overall pick. Franklin had hoped that Nabors might have been obscured, playing in the Northwest, but he feared that LA might have scouts up that way. His fears were confirmed.

Lofton was taken 3rd overall by Cincinnati. The Redskins were in a bind. They could take a chance on DE Todd Ingley (Louisiana), or try to trade down. Ingley hadn't been heavily scouted, but he had put up good numbers in college. At 6'1", he was a little short, and he'd be a risky pick.

Washington selected him anyway. There wasn't much to be gained by trading the pick at this point; they would just have to scour the later rounds for good talent. The remainder of the draft included:

2 - Jonathan Riley - ILB - Duke
3 - Chris Hackett - ILB - Tennessee
4 - Kirk Berkebile - QB - Oregon State
5 - Adrian Easter - DE - Navy
6 - Alfred Duran - RB - St. Francis
7 - Blake Pitts - G - Mississippi

Telegrams were immediately sent out to each player drafted, informing them of their status, and requesting their arrival at training camp.

[Franklinnoble]

Tampa, Florida
March, 1927

It wouldn't make any sense to have the annual scouting combine in Indianapolis - there was no HoosierDome (or RCA Dome, or any sort of dome), and Indiana was pretty damned cold this time of year.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers had a good stadium and practice facility (and, in fact, had just won the Super Bowl), and were chosen to host the combine, largely thanks to the fair weather they enjoyed around that time of year.

New league rules were in place requiring each rookie player to declare his draft eligibility to the league office at least one month before the combine - otherwise he could not be drafted or signed as a free agent by any team. Each draft-eligible rookie was invited to the combine and offered train fare and lodging for the four-day event. Teams were allowed to host private workouts for players only if they agreed to sponsor their combine expenses (expenses were shared amongst multiple teams that had interests in the same player).

The Redskins had improved to 8-8 in the 1926 season, and they were expected to be playoff contenders in 1927. Quarterback Thomas Kent had put up nearly identical numbers in his first two seasons, and it was generally expected that he would have to improve his efficiency or start looking for new employment.

Franklin sat in the bleachers at a high school football field in Tampa and watched Kent's biggest threat workout. Luke Lane was a 6 foot, 200 pound QB from Southern Mississippi who threw bullet passes with pinpoint accuracy at every distance. He was quick, intelligent, strong, and even-tempered. Having nearly half a century of football talent evaluating experience, Franklin knew this kid could be a great one.

He also knew that he'd probably get drafted very early - possibly #1 overall. This year's draft was rich in talent, especially on the offensive side of the ball, so there was no telling, but Lane was a rare QB. And Kent was an underachiever at this point. He could still develop into a good quarterback, but his passer rating had been 77.1 this last year - hardly promising.

Washington drafted 14th this year. They would have to make a big move to get Lane. Oakland had the #1 overall, and was not likely to part with it cheaply. Franklin scratched his beard and watched Lane hit Redskins all-pro wide receiver Thomas Darden in stride. He was working in shoulder pads and a helmet, behind a skeleton offensive line with a practice team defense in front of him. He took the next snap, dropped back, gracefully sidestepped a blitzing Todd Ingley, and fired a pass right into the hands of Darden again - who was double-covered in a deep crossing route. Redskins Head Coach Floyd Brock was sitting next to Franklin and just shook his head and muttered, "No way Kent ever even tries a pass like that."

Franklin nodded. He got up and started walking down the bleachers. He had seen more than enough to know that he had a big decision to make between now and April.

***

Draft day arrived, and Franklin approaced the Raiders table at Madison Square Garden. The team was now owned by Andrew Ellis, a Bay-area businessman who had made his fortune in shipping. He shook hands with Ellis and said, "Andy, what do you want for that #1 pick?"

Ellis grinned. "I've had about 20 offers already. I'm thinking of using it on Blackwell." Patrick Blackwell was a running back from Toledo who had a lethal combination of bruising strength and blazing speed.

"How about Thomas Kent, and our #1?"

"What's the matter with Kent?"

"Nothing. We're just looking to go in another direction. Albert Denham has a lot of potential." Denham was the Redskins backup QB, and this was not an entirely implausible excuse - he HAD talent, and had been the target of several trade offers to the Redskins over the last year or so.

Ellis grunted. "That's still not enough. Dropping to 14th in this draft is a big deal."

Franklin nodded. "How about I throw in our second rounder, too?"

"Can't afford it this year. Our cap is pretty tight." Ellis was full of it. If he could afford to sign a #1 overall, he could afford a #14 and an extra 2nd round pick.

"How about next year's 2nd round pick?"

"No way. I've got another offer on the table that includes 3 first rounders..." Ellis didn't make a fortune in business by not being a shrewd dealer.

Lane's pricetag was getting prohibitively high. "I'll be back in a minute." Franklin said.

Franklin returned five minutes later. "Alright, Andy... here's my final offer. Kent, our #14, our #1 next year AND the year after, plus Tampa Bay's #1 next year. Take it or leave it."

Ellis grinned. That was too much for him to pass up. "Done." Acquiring Tampa's #1 next year had cost Washington this year's 2nd, 3rd, and 4th round picks. Suddenly, Franklin felt a lot like Mike Ditka must have. He muttered to himself as he returned to the Redskins table "This kid had better be worth it."

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by ardent enthusiast

I need a super twist.

Patience. It's coming. Eventually.

[Franklinnoble]

Ashburn, VA
Thursday, October 31, 1929

The stock market had crashed, pretty much exactly on schedule. Franklin had personally lost over $200 million over the last week. He didn't care. He had ample liquid assets to carry him and the NFL through the depression, and in fact was planning on buying substantial amounts of stock when the market re-opened on Monday.

The rest of the league wasn't so confident. Many of the team owners were ruined, and nearly all of them wanted to sell out or close shop completely. There was no way they could pay salaries, and there was little hope that anyone would show up to watch football games for the rest of the season.

Franklin had called a meeting of all the league owners and the commissioner, and they were all meeting in a large boardroom at Redskins Park. Despite Prohibition, drinks were served, and generally well received. Franklin called the meeting to order and told the owners that he would personally guarantee the salaries for all NFL players for the remainder of the season. The league was not going to close its doors. Owners who were financially strained would be able to take out 0% interest loans against up to 90% of the value of their teams if they needed it to cover other debts. As a last resort, the league would buy out owners that simply could not continue to operate.

Many owners took out loans, and all of them were relieved that the player salaries would be guaranteed by the league. The radio broadcast deals were immediately re-negotiated out of necessity - the networks simply could not afford to pay full price for the rights to the games. Franklin knew it was critical to keep the games on the air, so for the time being, the NFL would practically give the broadcasts away.

Player salaries were frozen. There would be no increases for the forseeable future. The players cried foul at first - with no increases, veterans would be cut more often in favor for lower-priced rookies - but they eventually understood that the alternative was unemployment, and most people learned to be very happy just to have a job.

The Redskins had gone 8-8 in Luke Lane's rookie season. Last year, they went 12-4, and lost in the NFC Championship game. Lane led the league in passing. They were off to a good start so far this year, but there was no telling how the growing economic depression would affect the team. Franklin planned on speaking to all the players prior to Sunday's game to assure them of there security and the stability of the league. Aside from that, all he could do was ride out the storm like everyone else...

[StanGunner]

Still one of my favorite reads.

[Franklinnoble]

Monday, December 8, 1941

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Yesterday was supposed to be Pearl Harbor Day. The Japanese were supposed to have bombed most of the Pacific fleet and drawn the United States into World War II.

They had not. Franklin had stayed as clear of the political situation in the U.S. as he could, content with running the Washington Redskins and overseeing the continued success of the NFL. It was highly unlikely that any of his actions should have changed the movements of the Japanese military.

But something was out of place. About six years ago, Franklin had discreetly launched a series of small satellites into high orbit. They were meant to provide him with the ability to conduct global espionage in the event that there was any odd historical development. This instance certainly qualified.

His satellites did a complete photographic and thermal scan of the Pacific Ocean. Japan's navy was no where near Hawaii. They appeared to be solely focused on the war against China. It appeared that they had no intention of making any aggressive moves against the U.S. Why had this changed?

What was more disturbing (and had gone unnoticed until now) was that the Germans had NOT attacked the Soviet Union in June of 1941. In fact, satellite imagery revealed no aggressive movements toward the East by the German military. Their focus seemed squarely upon Great Britain.

This was an alarming change in the military tactics of the war. Without the war on the Soviet front, Hitler was much stronger in the West. Britain might actually fall. And without the attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States' entry into the war was delayed, and every moment was becoming critical.

There had to be an explaination, and something needed to be done to correct the shift in the timeline. If Germany kept its alliance with the Soviet Union and overtook Great Britain, it would be nearly impossible to free Europe, especially with the United States maintaining a policy of neutrality. But who was responsible for the drastic changes, and what could be done to repair the damage?

A knock at the door of his den interrupted his thoughts on the matter. Franklin stepped out of the alcove that held his computer equipment and shut the bookshelf over the doorway that kept it hidden. He called out, "Come in."

Reginald, his butler, entered the den and announced, "You have a visitor, sir. I told him that it was entirely too late to have company, but he insisted it was most urgent."

"Fine. Where is he?"

"In the living room, sir."

The living room was a large, comfortably furnished room with a large marble fireplace at one end. Facing the fire and warming his hands was a man in a tan overcoat. Franklin did not recognize him until he turned around.

"Hello, Franklin. Nice place you've got here."

Franklin stood stunned as he looked at the last man he expected to ever see again.

"Oscar? How the hell did you get here?"

[Franklinnoble]

Monday, December 8, 1941 (continued)

"I don't get it." Franklin stammered. "You said that as soon as I went back in time, you, and the rest of the future I came from, would cease to exist."

Oscar smilied. "I never told you that."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't. I'm not the same Oscar Baines you knew from your original timeline."

Franklin shook his head. "What do you mean? I don't get it..."

Oscar walked over to one of the large leather sofas, removed his coat, and sat down. "Take a seat, Franklin. This is going to take a while for me to explain.

"When you went back in time, and attempted to sterilize the ancestors of Thomas Nordberg and Andrew Palmer, you changed history, but not exactly in the way you expected. You succeeded with Palmer - he will never exist, but he wasn't really that important. The problem was that you didn't really know the truth about Thomas Nordberg."

"What, did I not get the right ancestor?"

"Not exactly. You see, you didn't attempt to sterilize Nordberg's ancestor; you were attempting to sterilize Thomas Nordberg himself."

"What do you mean? How is that possible?"

"Nordberg doesn't belong in this time any more than you do. In fact, he's been here a lot longer than you have. You see, Thomas Nordberg is actually from an alternate timeline - a timeline which he broke when he was accidentally transported back to the year 1827 from the year 2087."

"Whoa... how did all this happen, and how do you know all this?"

"I'm getting to that. In the original timeline, I invented biomolecular nanotechnology, just about the same time that I did in your timeline. By the 2080's, nearly everyone had nanotechnology implants similar to the ones you have now, giving them remarkable health and longevity. Apparently, I had started work on my next experiment, the quantum gate, when I first met Nordberg. He was 19 years old, and had already spent 6 months in prison for grand theft when he started working at Colossal Micro Laboratories as a janitor. I don't know how he got the job there with his criminal record and all, but he eventually figured out what I was working on, and decided that he could make good money if he went back in time a few years and bet on a few Super Bowls. The problem was, the quantum gate was incomplete, and I had trouble accurately calibrating it for time jumps of just a few minutes. When Nordberg tried to go back five years, it instead sent him back 260."

"So what's he been doing for the last hundred years? And why does he decide to try world conquest in about a hundred more? And you still haven't told me how you know all this..."

"I told you, I'm getting to that. Anyway, Nordberg wasn't very bright, so it was all he could do to stay alive for the first few years he was in the 19th century. In fact, if it weren't for the nanotechnology, he'd have probably died pretty quick in those days. Apparently he's already been shot four times. And he's not waiting to rule Canada and take over the world anymore - he's got ambitions right now."

"The Nazis..."

"Precisely. In my timeline, Nordberg realizes someone know's he's out of place, because when you hit him with the sterilization dart, his nanomachines go into hyperdrive to ward off the attack - and the stimulation not only alerts him of the fact that someone else has nanotechnology in this time, it prompts the machines to set up a more intelligent collective in his spine - it's like he has a second intelligence running inside him now, one that has brilliant analytical skills that he lacks on his own. Nordberg decided a long time ago that he could use his longevity for world domination - but now he doesn't have to wait until the Canadian civil unrest to do it. He is more decisive now, and he's been living in Germany since 1923. He's a high-ranking officer in the Nazi party, and he's secretly been Hitler's right-hand since he became Fuhrer. And he's not letting the German's screw things up this time around. He's kept Hitler's ego and pride in check, and they're running this war much more efficiently than they ever would have, thanks largely to the tactical prowess of Nordberg's nanocomputer."

"Holy shit... think of the technological advances he could give the Germans."

"Precisely. He hasn't done that yet, because he's still a bit limited with the resources he has - he didn't come here in a spacecraft full of sophisticated computer equipment like you did - and he's also trying to lay low and avoid the notice of whomever else in this timeline has nanotechnology."

"You mean me..."

"Right - only he doesn't know it's you. Fortunately, his knowledge of early NFL history is pretty limited, or he'd have you pegged. Instead, all he knows is that someone tagged him in Boston in 1922, and he fled the country. Now he's running most of the German army, and he's managed to keep the US out of the war. In another year or so, you will have figured this out on your own, but by then Britain has fallen, and the Germans posess rocket technology. Six months later, they have nuclear bombs, and they rule pretty much most of the Eastern Hemisphere."

"So, how do you know this? How did you get here?"

"Nordberg is content with what he had in my timeline for a while. The USA never entered the war, as they make a deal with the Germans to remain neutral if Germany agrees to stay out of the Western Hemisphere. Germany does - for a while. For many decades, they're busy enough dealing with various civil wars and uprisings all over their empire. Life goes on pretty much like normal for the US - it's like the Cold War that you knew, only on a bigger scale. You and I meet while I'm a student at Penn State, and we start Colossal Micro Laboratories together. That's about when Germany declares war on the United States."

"Because your nanotechnology is a threat."

"Exactly. See, Nordberg figured that as long as he was the only one with nanotechnology, he was safe. He wouldn't even allow German scientists to study it. But as soon as he found out about my work, he decides to crush it. This time, however, Canada is on our side - along with the rest of the Western Hemisphere, and World War III is on."

"But, surely by then, everyone's got nukes."

"True, but you've got satellites in the sky, remember?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Don't forget - you're around while all this is going on, using your political and corporate influence to keep America a step ahead of the Germans. You figure at this point that Nordberg is somehow responsible, but you don't know how - yet. You sought me out at Penn State and put me to work on the problem - and you gave me access to your computers and nanolabs here at the house to give me a head start. So the development time is much, much shorter for me. Still, the nuclear war isn't pretty - the satellites stop most of their inbound missiles, but ours hit all their targets - and nearly every major city in the Eastern Hemisphere is fragged."

"Holy..."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad. The environmental impact is brutal, and will probably end up killing most of the planet anyway. It doesn't take long for us to figure out that the only way to save the world is to go back and prevent the problem - again."

"So this time, I sent you back. It makes sense... but I still don't get how you figured out Nordberg's history."

"We captured him shortly after the war. I was able to tune the satellites to search for his nanomachines, and we found him hiding in a bunker in Ireland. By then, I knew more about the machines inside him than he did, and it wasn't hard to get him to talk. They can cause their host a great deal of pain, when properly instructed."

"So, you got Nordberg to squeal, and then you invented the quantum gate, again, and went back here. But why now? Why not just go back further and take him out sooner?"

"Because it's easier to use your satellites to locate him. And because you said that you were having a good time with you NFL team until Nordberg started screwing around with world history."

Franklin grinned. "Ok, so we track down Nordberg, take him out of commission, and then what?"

"Well, it won't be easy. Nordberg is probably in Berlin right now, surrounded by the heart of the German wehrmacht - it won't be like tagging him outside a pub in Boston this time around. Still, the theory is that once he's gone, Hitler's ego will take over again, and he'll attack the Russians - Nordberg said he could hardly get him to stop bugging him about it. With any luck, we can somehow get the US into the war - soon - and turn things around."

Franklin nodded. "Then we don't have much time to waste. The computer lab is in my den. I imagine you'll want to get in there and start re-configuring those satellites."

Oscar smiled. "No problem. Do you mind if I get something to eat first? We've been on pretty lean rations since the nuclear holocaust."

"Sure thing. Ask Reginald for whatever you want - we have a pretty good chef on staff here. He can also get you set up in one of the guest rooms - did you bring anything with you?"

"You might say that. I've got a large craft parked in a glen somewhere on the back of your property here. We'll tend to it in the morning. I'm going to need you to build me a decent lab."

"Alright. We'll start working on that in the morning. I'm supposed to be in D.C. tomorrow, but I can postpone that a day or so."

"What's going on in D.C.?"

"The Redskins are in the playoffs, Oscar. We're playing Green Bay this weekend. You want tickets?"

[Poli]

[Wolfpack]

...and now I've gone cross-eyed.

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by Wolfpack

...and now I've gone cross-eyed.

Quite possibly the best response to this thread ever.

[StanGunner]

Wish I had a time machine to jump ahead and read the new threads.

[Poli]

I've got this back to the future thing going on.

[Franklinnoble]

Ashburn, VA
February, 1942

Franklin greeted Redskins quarterback Luke Lane on the runway of the small airfield that had been recently built on his estate in Ashburn. He had been in the hangar with Oscar when Reginald called over and announced that Lane had stopped by. Franklin figured he knew why Lane had come to see him.

"Nice plane you have there, Mr. Brown." Lane gestured towards the black B-17 that was parked in the hangar.

"Thanks. I wanted something to make my business travel a little easier."

"Isn't that a bomber?"

"Yes, but I've made a lot of special modifications myself."

"Hmm. Well, I came out here today to let you know that I've made my decision. I'm going to go ahead and retire. I don't really have a lot left to prove, and I'd like to spend some more time with my kids."

Franklin nodded. "I sort of figured you would, Luke. You finished on a pretty good note. But we're sure gonna miss you." That was an understatement. The Redskins had defeated Kansas City for their 8th Super Bowl victory during Lane's career. He would be retiring with the career record in touchdown passes, and 7th all-time in passing yardage.

"I'm gonna miss it too, but fifteen years is enough for me. My oldest is starting high school this year, and I'd like to be able to see his games."

"Luke, I'm not gonna try to talk you out of it. You've given this team more than anyone could have ever wished for, and you certainly deserve a peaceful retirement."

"Thanks." Lane shook his hand and walked back towards the driveway. Franklin pondered the Redskins' future for a moment; Lane would have been a free agent this year anyway (he most certainly would have been franchised), so the cap implications for the team weren't bad at all - his salary had been enormous. The problem was that the Redskins had nobody on the depth chart behind him. Journeyman backup QB Herschel Villa had also retired following the Super Bowl, leaving the team with unproven third-year QB Harry Terrell as the only option. The team still had a solid receiving corps, and an outstanding running back in Mitch Castle, but they would have to find another QB, and guys like Lane were few and far between.

All that would have to wait, however. The more urgent issue was the hunt for Thomas Nordberg. Oscar was able to pinpoint his exact location with the satellites - he moved around a lot, but generally stayed pretty close to Berlin. Getting to him was going to be the hardest part.

That's where the B-17 came in. Franklin had bought it from Boeing a month ago. Oscar had stripped it down and re-built it, so while it looked like a flying fortress with a black paint job, it was actually nothing like it underneath. The hull was fortified with a lightweight nano-polymer that would be impervious to the conventional weapons of the day, and would allow for pressurized flight at extremely high altitudes. The engines were still prop-driven for appearances, but the wings contained fusion propulsion engines that gave the plane supersonic capability. The .50 caliber gun barrels remained, but were now attached to a specially designed action that could fire over 8,000 rounds per minute. The plane was designed to slip in and out of Germany completely undetected, but if it were sighted, it could easily withstand anything the Nazis could throw at it.

Franklin walked back into the hangar, past the plane and through the door in the back which led to Oscar's lab. Here, he had parked the small shuttle he had taken back from the future, and assembled the equipment he used to build most of the enhancements for the B-17, among other things.

"Are we about ready to do this? I'd like to get out of Germany before the free agency period starts?"

Oscar grinned, "Don't wanna take any of this too seriously, do you?"

"On the contrary. My hall-of-fame quarterback just resigned - I take that very seriously."

Oscar shook his head. "Try this on for size." He held out a black jumpsuit. Franklin put it on. "The nanomachines in that suit should be able to communicate with you. Ask the suit for the menu."

Franklin started to ask what Oscar was talking about, but before he could say anything, a menu appeared in his field of vision:

Suit Menu - Main

• Civilian clothing
• Military clothing
• Camoflage
• Help

"Whoa... can anyone else see this?"

"Nope. The nanomachines are superimposing the menu on your optic nerve for you. You just think about what you want to select, and it takes care of the rest. So far, I have the suit programmed for a few different varieties of civilian clothing, and various military uniforms - including an assortment of German military dress."

"What's the camoflage look like?"

"It gives the suit a chameleon effect - you basically blend in with whatever you're surrounded with."

"That's pretty sweet. With this, I should be able to walk right up to Nordberg."

"Don't get too overconfident - we have no idea what measures he's taken to protect himself. He may have the ability to detect your nanomachines and see you coming. He may even be prepared for a counter attack."

Franklin hadn't considered that, and the thought of Nordberg being prepared with weapons to neutralize his own technological advantage didn't appeal to him. "I don't like the sound of that."

"That's why I've decided that we need to hit him hard from a distance first. We've still got room in the bomber for a bunch of blockbusters; we'll carpet-bomb the area he's at - it'll create a diversion for you, and it should knock him off balance for a while."

"Why not just whip up some cruise missiles?"

"Because if we miss, Nordberg will know for sure that someone is throwing a lot of new technology into the mix right now. By using conventional ordinance, even if it's extremely potent, it doesn't look too out of place. The Nazis will think that the Brits got one lucky bomber into Berlin that made a mess of one small area. They'll lose some men, and a chief military advisor, but they won't think much more of it. Aside from that, we need to try to let history take care of itself."

"I guess that makes sense. When do we leave?"

"I'll have everything ready by tomorrow. We'll take off tomorrow night. If everything goes well, we'll be home by morning."

"That fast, huh?"

"That plane can get us there in three hours. If I have a good bead on Nordberg, I can level the place, drop you off, and pick you up in no time."

"Good. I'm going to need all the time I can get to find a new quarterback."

[Franklinnoble]

Berlin
February, 1942

The transatlantic flight had been uneventful, as most of the trip had been spent at an altitude that far exceeded the reach of any current aircraft or radar detection; and the descent into Germany had gone undetected.

Franklin looked over the console at the rear of the B-17's cockpit. "Still no unusual activity on any of their radio channels. Looks like a clean entrance."

The plane was hovering over a field about fifteen miles outside Berlin in 'whisper' mode - the conventional engines were shut down, and only a soft hum emitted from the fusion reactor at the heart of the craft. Oscar activated the landing gear and set the plane down. "Alright - time for you to start moving."

The men walked towards the back of the plane where the rear bay was already opening. Parked at the head of the ramp was a BMW R12 motorcycle dressed and painted to look like Nazi military issue. It was actually a very, very accurate replica, as Franklin had been unable to locate a model in the U.S. for them to use.

His suit had already assumed the form of an SS uniform, complete with helmet and goggles for the ride towards the city. He released the motorcycle's restraints and started to wheel it down the ramp.

"Remember," Oscar called out, "If you run into anybody, speak German!"

"I don't speak German." Franklin started the motorcycle.

Oscar flipped down the microphone on his headset, and spoke over the radio to him, "Yes, you do. Your nanomachines have you quite fluent, but you'll need to make a conscious effort to listen and respond."

Franklin tapped the earpiece under his helmet and responded, "You know, you really need to start telling me before you program crap into my brain. One of these days you're going to overwrite something important."

"Not likely. You've got plenty of unused space." The plane began its ascent and turned towards the city.

"Smart ass. Have fun bombing the bunker."

"I will. Get moving - it'll be a smoldering heap by the time you get there. I'll be laying down cover fire for you. The latest data from the satellites indicate that Nordberg is still asleep in building B, basement level."

"I'm on my way." Franklin reached the main road and turned the throttle up, speeding towards the city. It would take him about twenty minutes to get there. Oscar would circle the area for a while, monitoring any troop movements (unlikely at this time of night), and waiting for him to get a little closer.

When he was about five minutes out, Oscar came on over the radio. "Bombs away."

Right on cue, the night lit up with a series of loud explosions. Shortly afterwards, air raid sirens went off, and following that, anti-aircraft guns. The Luftwaffe would be airborne in a few minutes, but they'd have little chance of even seeing the B-17 - it was running without any lights.

Franklin sped through the streets and approached the bunker, weaving in and out of debris and dodging confused soldiers as they scurried about. His internal suboptic display was tuned to Nordberg's nanomachines, and led the way towards the bunker.

It was completely leveled when Franklin arrived, just as Oscar had promised. Franklin parked the motorcycle and dismounted, drawing what looked like a German Mauser (and which was, in fact, capable of firing 7.63mm ammo), but was actually an electromagnetic pulse emitter designed to completely neutralize nanomachine technology. He stepped towards the bunker, noticing some shifting in the rubble in the general direction where his optics indicated Nordberg was located.

"Sonfabitch is still alive..." Franklin muttered to himself. He walked briskly towards the bunker, and was less than ten feet away when Nordberg lifted up a section of the wall that had been on top of him and stood up.

"Gutentag, Herr Nordberg." Franklin glared at his target.

Nordberg shook his head, and his eyes flashed with a sudden realization. "You're no German." His hands moved around as if to reach for something, but there were no weapons on his person - he was dressed in only a pair of cotton pants.

"You're finished here, Nordberg. You've managed to screw things up quite enough." He raised the Mauser towards him.

"Achtung!" Franklin spun around at the sound of the voice from behind him. A German soldier leveled a rifle at him and fired. The bullet ripped through his right lung and sent him sprawling backwards.

Coughing and trying not to choke on his own blood, Franklin rolled over to see Nordberg running off into the distance. Suddenly, another voice, "Stay down."

Franklin did, and then the area was strafed with several thousand .50 caliber tracer shells, cutting his attacker in half, and taking down Nordberg as well.

Franklin spit out a mouthful of blood and muttered, "I thought the whole point of cover fire was to take out the bad guys BEFORE they shoot me."

"Sorry, I was busy mowing down a column of tanks headed this way. Hurry up and get Nordberg before he tries to run off again."

The nanomachines had already healed his lung and most of the gunshot wound, leaving Franklin a little winded and very sore. He staggered to his feet and ran over to Nordberg, who was flailing about on the ground trying to re-attach his right leg.

"That looks kind of painful."

Nordberg glared up at him. "Too bad that idiot didn't aim for your head."

"You mean like this?" Franklin aimed the Mauser and fired. A flash of light struck Nordberg in the forehead and incinerated his skull, along with most of his upper body. One of the unpleasant side effects of the concentrated EMP blast on the nanomachines was the complete destruction of their host material. Franklin fired twice more at Nordberg's remains, vaporizing the rest, and then jogged back to the motorcycle.

It was a short ride to a nearby clearing where he drove the bike up the ramp into the hovering B-17, and then began the flight back home. Franklin tried to sleep most of the way, but was restless with worry over the things he couldn't control at this point, like how soon the U.S. would enter the war, and if they weren't already too late.

[Poli]

"Ziggy says we can't leave until the US enters the war..."

[Franklinnoble]

I don't get it...

[Poli]

Quantum Leap, Sam. Quantum Leap.

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by ardent enthusiast

Quantum Leap, Sam. Quantum Leap.

Doh! I should have known that...

[JeeberD]

Awesome stuff, Franky...

[Franklinnoble]

Ashburn, VA
March, 1942

It didn't take long for Hitler to step up his aggression in the east and draw the Russians into the war. Shortly after that, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, a few months late, but creating the needed effect of bringing the United States to the war. While the U.S. was late, their Pacific fleet was in better shape than in the original timeline - not as many ships were in Pearl Harbor during the attack this time around. Hopefully, the increased naval assets would help offset the delayed entry into the war.

The impact on the NFL would be staggering. Franklin figured that nearly every player in the league would be drafted or would volunteer for service before the season started in the fall. He would either have to shut down the league for a few years, or play with men who weren't fit for combat. Neither option seemed very appealing.

In the meantime, he would busy himself helping behind the scenes during the war - whether it was funding industrial companies that could provide military hardware, buying up large sums of war bonds, or providing anonymous intelligence tips to the Allied war effort, courtesy of his global satellite network.

Oscar was moving to California. He had always wanted a home on the coast, and real estate was still relatively cheap enough to allow him to buy a large oceanfront estate to enjoy. There wasn't much point in him hanging around Virginia now anyways - he could collaborate with Franklin via satellite any time it was necessary.

***

Berlin

Lukas Weiss was a captain in the German army, responsible for a platoon headquartered near the bunker that Thomas Nordberg had occupied. His men had been in charge of clearing the rubble and seeking out the men who had abducted him. Weiss was reading reports at his desk when a knock came at his office door.

"Eintreten."

A lieutenant stepped into the room, carrying a briefcase-sized grey metal box. "Hauptmann Weiss." He handed him the box.

"Was is das?"

"We do not know, captain. The emblem on the front glows red when one presses a finger to it, but it cannot be opened, not even with a cutting torch."

Weiss furrowed his brow and pressed the mysterious circular emblem on the surface of the box. It glowed red briefly, then returned to its original grey. "Very well. Leave it with me, and I will inspect it."

The lieutenant nodded, stepped to attention, and saluted. "Sieg heil!"

Weiss returned the salute, and placed the box on his desk. He knew that Nordberg had been involved in some top secret projects for the Nazi party, and suspected this mysterious item belonged to him. He could not guess what it contained, but was sure that it merited further study.

[Franklinnoble]

*** Just an aside.... Nazis make great bad guys. Every dynasty should have a few...***

[Poli]

Noted. Can't believe I got you with Quatum Leap. Tsk, tsk.

[sterlingice]

FN, this is quickly becoming one of my favorite dynasties! Keep up the good story

Originally Posted by Franklinnoble

*** Just an aside.... Nazis make great bad guys. Every dynasty should have a few...***

Not that I want to admit to this, but I actually watched the season finale of last season's Enterprise and it provides a good counterexample to that. It's not so much the Nazi's, per se, but the fact that there are Nazi's in a Star Trek which seems out of place.

SI

[Wolfpack]

Originally Posted by sterlingice

FN, this is quickly becoming one of my favorite dynasties! Keep up the good story


Not that I want to admit to this, but I actually watched the season finale of last season's Enterprise and it provides a good counterexample to that. It's not so much the Nazi's, per se, but the fact that there are Nazi's in a Star Trek which seems out of place.

SI

There was an episode in the original series where the Enterprise actually encountered a planet that was inhabited by Nazis. Supposedly what happened was a Federation (somethingorother) decided National Socialism was inherently a good concept, but Hitler mucked it up with all the hatred and looniness he possessed. Unfortunately, the experiment failed because the nature of the system dictated needing an enemy to hate (or something to that effect).

[Franklinnoble]

Peenemunde, Germany
August, 1945

World War II was dragging on too long. By now, the Allied forces should have liberated Europe, beaten the Nazis, and nuked the Japanese into submission. None of that had happened yet. The Manhattan Project was behind schedule, and would not produce the first atomic bomb for at least six more months.

Germany had stepped up its attacks on Great Britain, Russia, and Allied territories in Europe with V-2 rockets. The aerial attacks, backed by unexpected numbers of Panzer tanks, had made the Nazi entrenchments nearly impenetrable. While there was little doubt that the Germans would eventually run out of either men or food, in the meantime, they were slaughtering millions in concentration camps and slave labor camps.

Wernher von Braun was the scientist most directly responsible for the development of the V-2 rocket, but it was believed that his true motivation was exploring the potential of space travel, and that he was only developing military ordinance for the Nazis under threat of imprisonment (or worse).

Franklin knew this to be true - history recorded that von Braun fled the research facility at Peenemunde when the Russians captured it, and surrendered to the US Army. He later was a critical figure in the development of American ballistic missiles and a large part of the US space program. The problem was that von Braun was still working for the Germans, and was continuing to develop more advanced weaponry for them. This had to stop.

Franklin had been to Peenemude in May of 1942, and had made contact with von Braun. He told von Braun that he was a secret agent working for the United States, and that he wished to help von Braun defect. The German scientist was skeptical, but agreed to stay in touch with Franklin via a special "short wave" radio.

In July, von Braun contacted Franklin and expressed his desire to defect, but under the condition that about 40 other scientists and their families come with him. This would be logistically difficult. The stealth B-17 that was still parked in the hangar couldn't possibly carry more that 50 people, and that would be pushing it. Braun wanted to remove about 100, and they were all living in a secure Nazi compound.

There was no way Franklin could pull this off on his own, even with Oscar's help. He contacted President Harry Truman and let him know that he had heard through his sources within the German industrial network (a lie, but a feasible one... Franklin had diverse corporate holdings around the globe) that Braun wanted out of Germany, and wished to come to the U.S. He explained to Truman the impact of Braun's research, and that it would be devastating to allow him to continue working for the Nazis.

Truman agreed to authorize a limited-scope mission for a company of troops to extract Braun, on the condition that Franklin could find a way to safely get the company in and out of Germany. Franklin was given a contact at Fort Meade that would provide the troops when he was ready.

His first phone call after the meeting with Truman was to Oscar Baines.

"So what'd Truman say?" Baines answered from his home in Bodega Bay, California.

"He authorized the mission and gave me a company of men. Now I just need a way to get them into Germany, and back out, along with about 40 scientists and their families."

"We're going to need more aircraft. You know anybody at Douglas?"

"I should hope so. I own 12% of the company."

"Good. Get me four C-47D's, and have them delivered to your airfield in Ashburn. You'll need to expand the hangar space for them."

Franklin scribbled down some notes on a piece of paper. "I can probably have them in two weeks, maybe less. I'll start working on the hangars right away."

"Good. Let me know when they're ready, and I'll come out to retrofit them. We're going to need to keep them fairly conventional, since we'll be using military pilots, but I can throw in a few features like improved fuel efficiency and engine speed, as well as radar invisibility, without tipping them off."

In the ensuing weeks, Franklin procured the aircraft and briefed his military team on the mission. There was an airfield at Peenemunde that they would land at and extract the scientists from. Franklin assured them that there would be minimal Nazi resistance.

The mission started in Britain. At nightfall on August 11th, Franklin and Oscar took off in the B-17 and headed towards Peenemunde. Braun met them outside the town near the banks of the river. Oscar had dropped Franklin upstream, and he paddled a small raft to the rendezvous point, where he greeted Braun, and handed him a black briefcase.

"What's this?" Braun asked.

"We're bringing you all out tomorrow night. Shortly after nightfall, we will gas the entire area. This will render everyone unconscious for at least 8 hours. You and your people should each take one of the tablets inside this case - they will make you immune to the gas. Gather at the airfield after everyone is asleep, and we will take you out of here."

"How will I know when it is safe?"

"You'll know. We will have to pass low overhead - they will try to shoot us down before the gas takes effect."

"What if you are shot down?"

"We won't be. Just be sure that everyone takes one tablet before nightfall."

Franklin paddled away and was picked up by the hovering B-17 downriver. The next evening, he and Oscar took off again at nightfall, ten minutes before the C-47D's. They flew in low over Pennemunde, and began spraying gas over the compound. Several anti-aircraft posts opened fire briefly, then stopped.

Just as Braun and his fellow scientists began to gather at the airfield, the C-47's began to land, with the B-17 circling overhead to provide cover, if necessary. The defectors were loaded without incident, and safely removed from Germany.

The mission was a success. With Braun out of the country, Germany would not be able to advance its ballistic missile program. Franklin and Oscar did not leave Europe right away, however. They had one more mission to complete.

[sterlingice]

Originally Posted by Wolfpack

There was an episode in the original series where the Enterprise actually encountered a planet that was inhabited by Nazis. Supposedly what happened was a Federation (somethingorother) decided National Socialism was inherently a good concept, but Hitler mucked it up with all the hatred and looniness he possessed. Unfortunately, the experiment failed because the nature of the system dictated needing an enemy to hate (or something to that effect).

Yeah, well, this is what happened in Enterprise (spoilers follow, if anyone cares) and the conversation a friend and myself as we watch it. It's quite a bit paraphrased as it's been a couple of months.











Backstory: So, I started watching Enterprise because a friend of mine had told me what was going on and it sounded interesting. At the end of last year, this group called the Xindi (sure, it was a warmed over version of the Dominion in Deep Space Nine but that was the only Star Trek series I followed regularly) sent a giant weapon to earth which cut a swath of death through Florida and killed something like 5 million people. Now they're off in space building a giant Doomsday Device (TM, patent pending) and are going to destroy the entire planet. Well, in this season's finale, Quantum Leap and his crew stop Doomsday Device but they're separated and we're supposed to think the captain is dead (yeah, right). Enterprise is hanging out by earth because they had to stop Doomsday Device at the last moment, otherwise it wouldn't have been fit for tv and we'll pick up the action from there.

Me: "Maybe they'll go into the earth politics or something. The writing has been decent this season so maybe they can tackle how Earth is dealing with space travel"
Him: "I doubt it. No one would watch. Then again, no one is watching now."
*scene with crew reacting to Quantum Leap being dead*
Me: "Enough with the emotional Vulcan already. I thought they weren't supposed to have emotions."
Him: "But we get token reactions from the rest of the crew, too. Huzzah"
*then there's the ridiculous scene of them sending a shuttle down to earth and hearing thudding noises*
Him: "Sounds like the hicks are shooting at the spaceship. Guess things haven't changed in 200 years"
*they pan out and show WW2 fighter planes shooting at the shuttle*
Me&Him: (almost in unison, both in horror) "Oh dear god."
Me: "Well, you know how the Sci-Fi hierarchy grows. Once you outgrow your sphere you have to move onto the next: world then space then all of time so time travel was only a matter of time"
Him: "But you have to outgrow your current one first and they're nowhere close"
Me: "So when are we going to get the gratuitous shot of Quantum Leap not being dead?"
*cue scene with Quantum Leap all bloodied and we don't know where he is*
Him: "So, what's next? Nazis?"
Me: "No, even better. Commienazis"
*they show Nazis running around camp*
Him: "Of course."
Me: "Uh, yeah.
*We both let out some sort of sigh or groan or both. But the writers don't leave us time to ponder this stupid development as they show an alien leaning over Quantum Leap in a Nazi uniform to dramatic music and the closing credits start*
*I scream/groan some sort of "NOOOOO!" at the tv*
Me: "So is 'Nazi's in Space' their answer to Mel Brooks's 'Jews in Space' from History of the World?"

So, think about how this writer's meeting went down.
One writer: 'What does everyone in sci-fi like? Yeah, time travel.'
Other writer: 'And who does everyone hate? That's right, Nazis!'
Producer: 'Perfect! We have our season finale! It will be the best ever!'

SI

[Franklinnoble]

Originally Posted by sterlingice

So, think about how this writer's meeting went down.
One writer: 'What does everyone in sci-fi like? Yeah, time travel.'
Other writer: 'And who does everyone hate? That's right, Nazis!'
Producer: 'Perfect! We have our season finale! It will be the best ever!'

SI

*** Note to self... abandon Nazi storyline. Revert to more original material, like Canadian world domination. ***