Step Back - Part 33

Wednesday October 15, 1969
Nevada Desert

Robert Fisher was driving his own Kentworth tractor-trailer truck on a two-lane highway crossing the Nevada desert.  He was carrying a load of corrugated sheet steel to the surface base of the Uptimers.  Even though he was a Minnesota resident this was where the work was and the fact that he was an independent owner-operator was also a factor in his continued employment. The Uptimers continued their flat out refusal to hire anyone connected to a union, especially the Teamsters. 

He was still ten miles out from the front gate of the base when  a county sheriff's car came up behind his unit and started flashing the lights.  Bob decided to pull over but as he did he hit the panic button on the GPS unit installed in the tractor as instructed by the Uptimers.  Unless there was another emergency to deal with the alert squad of Rangers would shortly come out. 

After both vehicles came to a full stop the deputy sheriff walked up to truck.

He spoke to Fisher.

“Sir, do you know why you were pulled over?”

“No.”

“You were speeding.”

Fisher shook his head.

“Deputy,” he said, “I’m carrying too much weight to be speeding.”

The deputy was clearly upset that Fisher had rebuked him.

“My radar gun says you were speeding!”

The GPS unit beeped.  Fisher briefly turned to read the text message on the screen.  The alert squad of Rangers was on the way.

He decided to talk the deputy out of this nonsense before the Rangers showed up.

“Deputy,” he said, “this tractor unit is fitted with a Global Positioning System unit.”

“So what?”

“The GPS was developed on the original timeline by the United States Navy to precisely track the position and speed of ballistic missile submarines.  The People from the future brought a full set of GPS satellites and ground units with them in case they had to do work on the Earth.  And according my GPS tracker I wasn’t speeding.”

The deputy was now visibly angry. He pulled out his service revolver.

“Get out of the truck!  Now!”

Suddenly there were two sonic booms.  The deputy looked up in shock.

Fisher spoke again.

“Deputy, I called for assistance from the Uptimers, you should place the gun on the ground and your hands on top of your head.”

The deputy raised his revolver higher and shouted again.

“GET OUT OF THE TRUCK! NOW!”

There was a sudden flash of light.  Fisher looked down and saw that apart from the skull, spinal column and rib cage, which had turned to carbon, every part of the deputy above the pelvis had been turned to smoke.

“Shit.”  He said.

Fisher had seen similar but far bloodier fatal injuries inflicted by the Communists on his fellow Marines in the Korean War.

The four Rangers stepped out of the squad lander as it slowly passed over the site.  The landing jets on the suits slowed their descent to landing.  The squad leader bounced up to where Fisher was parked.  He then opened his helmet to speak.

“Damn.”  He  said.  “He asked for it.”

“He was clearly not paying attention, Sergeant Burnette.”

Fisher could see the name and rank of the Ranger printed in black on the front of the suit.  The insignia used straight chevrons similar to those used by the Israelis, but in this case the rank of Staff Sergeant was indicated by four stripes.

“Okay,” said Staff Sergeant Burnette, “this idiot pulls you over for speeding even though you weren’t, and then pulls his weapon on you when you argued with him.”

“Yes,” said Fisher, “and he got real upset when the lander and the gunship appeared.”

“Dumb,” said Burnette, “a real prereformation cop, a really stupid prereformation cop.”

Bob Fisher could only nod.  He had not yet read the full story on The Reformation but from what little information he had it was clearly a cleanup of a serious mess.

Burnette looked about before speaking again.

“What we can do is this, we can have the squad lander and gunship fly overhead and my guys can ride on the trailer the rest of the way to the base.”

“That’ll work.”  Fisher replied.



In his office Senator Edward Kennedy received a visitor.  Douglas Green was employed by the Republican National Committee in Washington.  But for some reason he needed to speak to the senator immediately and in private.

“So what is this about?”  Said Kennedy.

“You’ve heard about the publication of The Concept Of Government?”

“Yes,” said Kennedy, “I’ve been told that it’s a load of fascist trash”

“There’s an unexpurgated version being distributed within the Republican Party.  And it’s worse than that--much worse.”

Green opened a small brown paper bag like those used by certain bookstores, pulled out a copy of a soft cover book, and handed it to Kennedy. The title was the same but the name of the author was clearly printed on the cover. 

The author was named Allen Keller.

“In what way is this version worse?”  Kennedy asked.

Green answered.

“This version gives a clear history of the event the Uptimers call The Reformation, basically the extermination of the Democratic Party.  And it gives the identity of those who carried it out, including the founder of the successor state, The Federation.”

“And who carried out the murders and founded this so-called federation?” 

“The then sitting governor of the state of Minnesota, John Andrew March.”

As Kennedy paged through the copy he didn’t notice the four digit number stamped on the inside of the cover.  And he had absolutely no clue that there was a printed computer chip incorporated into the spine of the book.

His thought at the time was that something would have to be done about those monsters.

At the Ground Base in Nevada Lieutenant March was meeting with Bob Fisher.

“Bob, when was the last time you went home to see your family?’

“About a month ago, why?”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to leave the area until things calm down.  According to my list here we have a load going outbound to Minneapolis.  Interested/”

Fisher nodded.

“Yes.”  He said.

“Okay, it’s going out tomorrow to Honeywell.”

At that moment a message popped up with a beep on her desktop screen.

March spoke again.

“Bob, I have to meet with someone, can you go out the side door?”

“Yes.”

Once Fisher was clear of  her office she pressed down on the intercom button.

“Okay, bring him in.”

Two Rangers dragged a bound and gagged man in mock western attire into the office and dropped him on the floor.  He was a member of the county board.  March walked around her desk and bent down to pull off the piece of duct tape from his mouth.

She then spoke.

“So what do you have to say for yourself?”

He spat back.

“You fucking bitch!”

“Really,” she replied, “do you understand the concept of courtesy, let along the meaning of the word No?”

“You have nothing on me, bitch!”

“On the contrary, the county sheriff was very clear when he said that you ordered the harassment of truckers making deliveries here.”

“That lying son of a bitch!”

March shook her head.

“No.  It’s amazing how truthful someone can be when a gun is placed directly on the forehead.  Your  effort to get a piece of our action has only annoyed us and resulted in the death of one of your deputies.  Needless to say it has to end.”

“You bitch!  You won’t get away with this!”

“I’m not getting away with anything.”  She calmly relied.

Lieutenant March then drew her sidearm, a M1911A1, and placed a single round in the commissioner’s head.

And then came the paperwork.