The Time War Ch. 03&04

Suddenly they heard the sound of a twig snapping.

They hid behind bushes. They saw tall, dark skinned pacific islanders in grass skirts walking through the forest. Erica and Calle watched them walk by.

"Maybe we should make contact," said Calle, watching them go. "If Amelia Earhart landed herE, maybe they know what happened to her."

"We are to avoid contact unless you determine it's absolutely necessary," said Erica bluntly. "Every contact we make risks damage to the timeline."

"How do I know if it's absolutely necessary?" Calle asked. "So far, we've found nothing."

"It's all up to you, Captain," said Erica, folding her arms in front of her.

Calle frowned, and concentrated.

Those glowing orange eyes.

"Left," he said.

"Left?" said Erica.

"Left," said Calle. They started walking left. She followed him for some time. Calle walked left or right without apparent reason. But it wasn't twenty minutes later before they bumped into a thick layer of bushes. When they got closer, they saw...

"It's an airplane," said Erica, pulling off one of the branches covering it.

"A disguised airplane," said Calle, pulling off another. The plane looked exactly like the image of Amelia Earhart's plane they had seen in the briefing.

"It looks intact, though I don't know how it landed here," said Calle.

"Maybe it was moved," said Erica.

"Maybe," said Calle. "There's no sign of the pilot. If the plane is intact, I'll bet the pilot is too."

"And so?"

"And so it's time to make contact with the locals."

********

They waited until they found one of them wandering alone on a narrow jungle path. He was a Pacific Islander wearing a grass skirt. He was dark skinned and had a big belly. He was also carrying a club.

Calle and Erica stepped out of the bushes. "Hello," said Calle.

The Pacific Islander raised his club. "UNGA BUNGA!" he said.

Under other circumstances Calle and Erica might have felt threatened. But they had both been brainstamped with the language of the Pacific Islanders of this time. What the man actually said was, "Greetings. What nice weather we are having today!"

Calle replied. "UNGA BUNGA BUNGA!", which roughly translated to, "Yes, the humidity is quite low."

His name was Tulsi Abbard, and if he was astonished to see two journalists from the United States, he didn't show it. Calle immediately asked about Amelia Earhart.

"Woman, in the plane."

Tulsi looked puzzled.

"Woman, like us, in the big shiny thing."

Tulsi smiled. "Yes. You come."

He turned and walked away, confident that they would follow. He was right.

He led them into a small village of Pacific Islanders who stared at them curiously. Tulsi barked a few phrases in his language and they seemed to relax, though they were still stared at.

Tulsi led them to a bamboo hut and yelled, "Bob!"

A bearded white man with a big belly, wearing only a grass skirt, exactly like in Calle's vision, came out of the hut. He looked very surprised. "Europeans," he said.

"Actually, Americans," said Calle. "I'm John Rawlins, and this is Betsy McCallister, from the International Herald Tribune. We're here to find Amelia Earhart."

The man named Bob just stared at him.

"We found her plane, hidden in the jungle," said Calle meaningfully.

Bob sighed. "Yes, it was her plane."

"Where is she?" Calle asked.

"Dead," said Bob. "She suffered injuries in the crash. I... I could show you where she's buried."

"Please."

As they walked, Calle said, "What brings you here?"

"I'm originally a banker from New York," said Bob. "I came here looking for a life of solitude."

"Well, it looks like you came to the right place," said Calle.

"There's something so relaxing, so peaceful about the South Pacific," said Bob. "I really like it. Ah, here we are."

They came to a raised mound. There was an amateur tombstone at the head of it with the letters AE on it.

"She was severely injured in the crash. She didn't live long," said Bob. "It was quite sad. I knew who she was, of course. She was quite a trail blazer, a great role model for women and girls."

"Her plane didn't look very damaged," Calle said.

"It wasn't," said Bob. "But she was."

Calle looked at Bob, and nodded.

"Listen," said Bob. "I know you're journalists, but I was wondering if you could keep this a secret. I came here for quiet, you know? I don't want the island to be overrun with half the media from New York to Moscow."

"I understand," said Calle. "Your secret is safe with us."

"Thanks," said Bob.

Calle and Erica made their goodbyes and left. As they walked on the beach, Erica said, "So? Is our mission accomplished?"

Calle still felt like he was being tested. "I'm thinking," Calle said slowly.

"About what?"

"Quiet, please." Calle tried to reach out with his senses.

Those glowing orange eyes.

Calle and Erica walked for several minutes in silence. Then Calle abruptly changed course, and headed back to the village.

There was something he sensed, a key temporal turning point. But not from the plane.

From the man, Bob.

When they arrived at Bob's shack, they saw Bob inside, lying face down completely nude on his cot, with the Pacific Islander Tulsi on top of him, thrusting between his ass cheeks.

Calle cleared his throat. Tulsi quickly pulled his erect penis out of Bob's ass. Bob, reddening, got up and covered himself in his grass skirt.

"We weren't expecting you back... so soon," he said, red-faced.

"I could tell," said Calle, risking a quick glance at Tulsi's excrement covered phallus.

"What... do you want?" Bob asked, adjusting his skirt.

"Just one thing, Bob," said Calle.

"Yes?" said Bob.

"Where's Amelia?"

"What?"

"Where's Amelia?" Calle gave him a hard stare.

********

Five hundred and some years later, Captain John Calle and Lieutenant Erica Green sat in Colonel Strayker's office. He listened to their story attentively. Then he said, "Let me see if I can understand this. You're saying that Amelia Earhart is actually an overweight gay man named Bob," said Strayker.

"Yes sir," said Calle.

"And that this... Bob person... impersonated Amelia, because he wanted to create a role model for women and girls, to encourage them to pursue careers in aviation."

"Yes sir," said Calle.

"And when this... Bob person... felt that his ruse was in danger of being discovered, he purposefully marooned himself on a remote island in the South Pacific so the feminist icon he created would stay intact."

"Yes sir," Calle said again.

Strayker got up from behind his desk and came forward to stare at Calle intently with his harsh blue eyes. "And this is the story you bring to me? Do you stand by this?" He glared at Calle.

Calle took a deep breath. "Yes sir."

Strayker stared at him a moment longer. Then he nodded, slowly. "Good work," he said, returning to his desk chair.

"You knew?" Calle asked.

"Of course," said Strayker. "It wouldn't have been much of a test if we didn't know the answer, would it?"

Calle turned to Erica. "Did you know?"

Erica gave a small smile and nodded.

"We wanted to test your Special Talent, but more than that, your ability to report things that might seem... wild, improbable, in the face of intense pressure." Strayker took out a nuclear cigar, and started to puff it. He admired the smoke rings. "I'm not looking for yes men, Captain. I never have been. As far as I'm concerned, you've passed the test in flying colors. Welcome to the Continuity Service, John."

Strayker smiled and extended his hand. Calle shook it uncertainly. There was something about Strayker's gaze which still made him uncomfortable....

Chapter 4: Marion

Three years earlier....

Calle couldn't get Marion out of his mind.

The time they had spent together at the gazebos, watching her sing in the play... she was gorgeous. He was clearly smitten with her.

But Marion was in New York and he was in California. And he didn't even know if she were interested in him. After all, when the play had ended, Marion had disappeared. Calle thought she had seen him in the audience. Why would she leave so quickly when she knew he had stayed to see her performance?

She was on the other side of the continent, and probably wasn't interested in him.

And yet... he still thought about her. It was starting to interfere with his work, as Charlie would find him daydreaming in front of his virtual terminal.

He had to go back. He had to see her, one more time.

And so, a month later, in early April, Calle took a long three day weekend, and flew back to New York, and then rented an air car and drove up to the Mohonk Mountain House. The road leading uphill to the Mountain House was steep and winding, and at one point there was a hairpin turn which was more than a little dangerous, especially when the roads were slick, as they were today. But Calle made it there safely.

He arrived on Friday night, and was up bright and early for breakfast Saturday morning. He tried not to appear looking anxiously for Marion in the dining hall, but saw no sign of her. He was terribly disappointed when a young man came to take his order. He ate breakfast in silence, feeling more and more unhappy. Finally, after he had finished, he went over to the hostess and, feeling very embarrassed, said, "Last time I was here there was a young waitress here named Marion. Does she still work here?"

"Yes," said hostess. "Let me check...." A small eternity passed. "Yes. Marion works lunches and dinners on weekends."

"Thank you!" said Calle, giving a broad smile.

********

Calle tried to appear calm as he entered the dining hall for lunch. He didn't see Marion when he entered. But as he looked up from his menu his heart jumped.

He saw her. She was wearing the same baggy sweater and long dark skirt she had worn the first time he had saw her.

She looked at him, and her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted. She batted her eyelashes quickly, and then walked jerkily to his table. "Good morning, sir. Are you ready to order lunch?"

Sir?

Calle looked up at her. He was totally confused. She was acting like she didn't know who he was. Their time together--just a month ago--it hadn't meant a thing to her. This entire trip back to the east coast--it had been a fool's errand. He felt like his heart was crushed.

Calle nodded, and ordered his food. Marion took his order and left.

And then a curious thing happened.

After Marion left to give the order to the kitchen, she returned to his table.

"John... it is John, isn't it?"

Calle's eyebrows shot up. "Yes."

"I... I met you a few weeks ago. I gave you a tour."

Calle nodded.

"Listen... I'm so sorry that I acted like I didn't know you just now. I was just..." she seemed to have trouble speaking. "I was just surprised to see you again."

"I... uh...." Calle had prepared a cover story, but he too seemed to have trouble speaking. "I'm here consulting, with the New York office."

"The New York office," said Marion uncertainly.

"Yes, and I had a free weekend, so I thought I'd come back here," said Calle. "You did say there were other nice gazebos to see."

"Yes, I did say that," said Marion, giving a fearful smile.

Now was the moment of truth. "Would you... be available to give me a tour again?" Calle asked.

An eternity seemed to pass. Calle watched Marion's hands wrestle with each other. "Sure," Marion finally managed to say. "I'd like that."

"I would too," said Calle sincerely.

********

This time Marion dressed differently. Her baggy clothes were gone. She wore a tight blue blouse and tight white pants, and they took Calle's breath away.

Marion had breasts! Calle had suspected that, even though her baggy sweater had concealed them. Even her flower print dress didn't reveal the nature of what was on her chest. But there was no more need to guess now.

Marion had gorgeous, womanly teardrop shaped breasts that gave her body the most gorgeous curves. Calle tried not to look at them, but he had to really work at it not to do so. Sometimes he would find himself staring at them and had to remember to look away.

But that wasn't the only beautiful part of her. Marion had a high, well rounded ass that was so perfectly sculpted in her tight white pants. Why had she hid behind skirts and baggy sweaters for so long?

He looked at her face, at her green eyes and luxurious hair. Her hair was jet black and straight and very thick. Calle found thick hair to be very erotic. It made her look even more womanly, more feminine, and even more sexier, if that was even possible.

"Is something wrong?" Marion asked, when she showed up to give him his second tour.

"Wrong?" Calle said. "Absolutely not! Everything is as far from wrong as it could possibly be."

Marion gave him a nervous smile. She was shy!

********

She took him on another gazebo tour. They started at the lake, at a gazebo built on a giant boulder, but then they took a path going upwards and came to gazebos offering incredible views, that showed the Shawangunk Mountains and puffy clouds as far as the eye could see.

"That one looks like a tiger," said Calle.

"Which one?" Marion asked.

Calle pointed at one of the clouds. As he did, his arm brushed against hers.

"That's no tiger," said Marion.

"Sure it is. See the arms... and the tail?"

Marion smiled at Calle as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She had a way of turning her head and looking at him, with a sly sideways glance, with just a hint of a smile, that was totally irresistible. "You have quite a vivid imagination, John Calle."

Calle stepped forward and took her hand. "I do at that," he said, looking into her eyes.

Marion shivered as he caressed her hand gently.

"You know... you can call me John, if you like," Calle said, feeling like he was asking for sex.

"I... I have been," said Marion, looking bashful.

Calle shook his head. "You have always called me John Calle. You have never called me John."

"I have!"

"No." Calle shook his head.

"All right... John." She smiled at Calle, and as they stood there, mere inches apart, up among the clouds, Calle felt a connection had been made.

********

Marion showed him an amazing wooden bridge which actually sloped sharply upwards right in the middle, and had a gazebo roof built over it.

"The woodwork here is increidble," said Calle.

"I think so too," said Marion quickly.

"That's what's so great about this place," said Calle. "An alpine lake, surrounded by white cliffs... that would be stunning enough. But being surrounded by hand crafted gazebos and a charming mountain house makes this place feel like a fantasy land."

"Yes!" said Marion excitedly. "That's exactly right! You know, there's a park not far from here, called Lake Minnewaska. The lake and cliffs are almost identical to Mohonk; but there's no hotel there. It's pretty, but not a fraction of the beauty you see here. I've always known that the combination of the two was what made it prettier, but I never heard anyone quite put it into words... you have quite an eye for beauty, John."

"I like to think so," said Calle, staring into her green eyes and squeezing her hand experimentally. Marion shivered and turned away for a moment. But a moment later she turned back to him and smiled.

********

They climbed up to a spot where they saw an incredible view. The clouds were obscuring the sun, but as they watched, the sun peeked out, getting brighter and brighter, and the scene changed before their very eyes, as the light and color of the sun turned darkness into brilliance.

"It's like God is putting on a play, just for us," said Calle, almost spellbound.

"Yes! Yes!" said Marion. She looked at Calle accusingly. "You have such a talent for saying exactly what I'm thinking, John."

Calle faced her. She was beautiful. She stared up at him adoringly. He angled his head down, downwards, towards those beautiful red, plush lips... and then, gasping almost inaudibly, Marion pulled back.

Calle tried to hide the disappointment on his face.

********

They returned to the hotel just before tea time. As they took tea and cookies, Calle said quietly, "I had a really nice time with you, Marion."

She smiled at him. "I did too, John."

"I'd love to see you tomorrow," said Calle.

Marion looked up at him. "I'm not working tomorrow."

Calle looked at her expectantly.

Marion forced herself to go on, with visible effort. "And... I'd like nothing better than to spend more time with you."

********

Bright, glowing orange eyes, staring out at him. They seemed almost electrical in nature, like small suns, staring at him, burning into him.

Calle gasped as he woke up. His body was sleek with sweat.

He had dreamed about the glowing orange eyes again. It had been a recurring dream, for as long as he could remember. He didn't know where the dream had originated from. He had never seen anyone with glowing orange eyes in real life.

But now was not the time to be distracted. It was time for another day with Marion.

Their relationship had progressed.

Marion was no longer even pretending to be an employee giving him a tour. They were going to spend a day together as a man and a woman who were attracted to each other. It was a small step, but an important one to Calle. He had been disappointed when Marion pulled back from his kiss, but he realized she was shy, and worth the wait.

********

Calle was sitting in an elegant, 19th century padded chair next to an old fashioned incandescent lamp as he waited for Marion to come down the stairs. There were no bathrooms on the first floor of the hotel by the lobby, so Marion had gone up to use the one on the second floor by the smaller gift shop. The main stairwell at Mohonk was carpeted with bright orange, yellow and green patterns like a quilt. The stairs creaked with every step, giving guests the authentic feeling of stepping on genuine wood. Every time Calle heard the crunchity creaking sounds, he would look up to see if it was her. And finally, it was.

Marion came down the stairs, all smiles, wearing a tight white blouse and blue jeans. Calle loved the curves of her breasts as well as her well rounded behind. She was a pleasure to look at from front, back, and sideways.

They walked around the grounds for a while, and finally sat on a beautiful wooden bench made of small tree limbs curved into a beautiful decorative design. And there they talked about their lives.

Marion had grown up in the suburbs of New York City, just north of White Plains in Westchester. She had an older sister named Chloe, who Calle sensed she had an adversarial relationship with. Marion had been fascinated with nature and the outdoors, and the first time her mother took her to Mohonk, she had fallen in love with the place. She had gone to college in SUNY New Paltz to be near to Mohonk, and now attended graduate school there as well. When she graduated, she planned to buy some farmland and grow genetically modified blueberries that were always sweet.

She asked pointed questions about Calle, and his work in San Diego, and somehow he didn't have the heart to lie to her anymore. He confessed that Astrodyne didn't really have a New York office. He told her the truth, that he had returned to New York just to see her.

Marion took a deep breath and her breasts heaved beneath her tight white shirt. "John... I don't know what to say."

"Tell me... tell me you like me," said Calle desperately.

"I... I do," Marion smiled. "That first day... the first time I saw you...." Her voice trailed off.

"I had another waitress assigned to my table, didn't I?" Calle asked.

Marion nodded.

"But you took her place."