Fantasy History Unscripted - A Time Travellers Story

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History Unscripted - A Time Travellers Story

Chapter 1:
"Less depends on the size of the dog in the fight than on the size of the fight in the dog."​

 

[Saix]

Inside of a freshly painted retro army green P-38J-10-LO replica plane sat a young woman of 27 years. The uniform she wore matched the era of the plane, complete with an A-11 helmet that covered her deep black hair that was fashioned into a simple braid and tucked beneath the collar of her combat jacket, B-8 goggles that rested above the dark brown leather cap atop her forehead, a warm yellow life preserver, and off-white parachute straps that fit snug against her body. An oxygen mask was clipped to her left shoulder, its long corrugated hose trailing down between her legs into the mechanisms below patiently waiting for its time to be used to provide her with vital breathable air. The plane itself sat at the front end of an unbelievably large sterile white hangar that was lined with heavy industrial cables, server towers for processing data, and lab personnel all busy working to get her ready for “launch”. At the end of the long building directly in front of her sat a silver metallic ring with a diameter much larger than the width of the plane she currently sat in that practically hummed with anticipation as it gathered power for their first human trial. Sitting above at the rear of the plane was a platform filled with even more people than she cared to know about, the heart of the busy hive that was the control epicenter of this experiment.

The fact that she was about to travel 1000 years into the past should have excited Amara, but it did little to fill the void that existed inside her and that emptiness showed in her blank, seemingly bored, expression as she went over the preflight checklist one more time with command. The Lockheed replica was perfect and more than ready to carry out the mission at hand. It was to be expected given the company that made the plane was the very same one who’s engineers designed it back in 1937 and who other than Lockheed Martin would have been fit for the job? While built within the precise factories of 2945, the plane itself still functioned exactly as its ancestors, as did everything she wore as all were perfect replicas of items that existed in her target time. From a distance, as well as the untrained eye, she should have no issue blending in with the allied armies of old.

“Captain Parker, are you ready?” A man’s voice came through the speakers of her helmet and Amara could detect a hint of affection in his deep voice. There was a time when Dr Damien Lancaster would send shivers down her back and spark memories of long heated nights… but those times were long gone.

“More than ready Dr. Lancaster.” she replied, her voice carrying no acknowledgment of their relationship as she spoke into the microphone.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this? We may not be able to bring you back, even with the tracking beacon…” As he spoke, Amara could feel the sorrow in his words. Her immediate reaction to his question was to tell him that there was nothing for her to come back to, but numerous hours with a therapist taught her she had to be better with her words despite her grief.

“I’m sure Damien. I have to do this. For Brie.” It took Amara months for her to be able to say Brianne’s name without crumbling into pieces and the name flowed easily past her lips.

“I understand…” he replied before taking a pause that Amara assumed was used to collect himself. He knew firsthand that he was incapable of making her stay. “We are going to begin the start-up sequence for the portal. Good luck Amara, I’m sure Brie would be so proud of you.”

“Goodbye Damien.” She said softly before the connection was dropped and she heard his voice boom over the speaker system of the building. Gone was any sign of his true feelings as he slipped into his role as the director and began the launch sequence. A secondary robotic voice chimed in after him to indicate the start of the launch sequence.

“T-minus 5 minutes and counting.”

As commands were given, a string of lights began to appear along the ring in front of her and slowly started spinning in a clockwise motion.

“T-minus. 4 minutes and counting.”

As seconds passed and more power was transferred into the machine, the lights would increase their speed until eventually, they blurred into one singular line.

“T-minus 3 minutes and counting.”

In the center of the portal, a second hazy silver ring began to form. As the secondary ring started to occupy space that was normally empty, Amara could feel the tension of the people around her as they diligently worked to ensure nothing went awry as more precise commands were given.

“T-minus 2 minutes and counting.”

The ring hand now grown to half of its size maximum size and she began to prepare herself for take-off. The mask that had previously hung aimlessly against her left shoulder was now against her face and fastened to her helmet and seatbelts were now fastened securely against her lean frame.

“T-minus 1 minute and counting.”

Her gloved hands gripped the handle confidently. Her right hand poised gently against the throttle lever waiting for the time she was allowed to spread her wings.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Take off”

The P-38 surged forward as her hand pushed the throttle lever down and she began to race towards the ring that had now began to leak vapors onto their side. Both hands gripped the control wheel with practiced ease as the plane raced down the runway towards the window to the unknown. At about the halfway point, the thought of the possibility that she could just pass through the portal and crash into the end wall of the hangar crept into the back of her mind, but did not bother Amara in the slightest as death would have been a welcoming end for her.

With the ring about a quarter of the distance away, Amara felt the plane begin to lift from the ground as it reached flight velocity, so she worked to keep it as close to the ground as possible without breaking off the wheels. In mere seconds she would be entering the silver lined window into a grey misty unknown and it was at this point Amara began to feel excited. She was at the cusp of achieving the goal she had trained so desperately for and let out a cry of excitement as she passed through the portal into a world of long since passed. This was the first time she felt something other than anger and grief in months.

 

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Early-December, 1944

The P-38 shuddered once and a bright silver flash ripped across Amara's vision as the nose of the aircraft entered the vortex before her. An instant later she was winging her way high over a series of islands fringed with white sand and surrounded by turquoise blue waters. For a brief glorious moment there was nothing but elation and awe that the portal appeared to have worked. And then she heard it, even over the roar of her twin engines, the sound of explosions and, somewhere nearby, two other aircraft.

To her left, several thousand feet below, a titanic struggle between two Naval forces was underway. Muzzle flashes were mixed with geysers of water thrown hundreds of feet into the air even as multiple ships burned furiously. Black oil slicks dotted the sparkling waters, marking downed aircraft, sinking ships, and destroyed landing craft. What she at first thought were sea life turned out to be hundreds of individuals people struggling to stay afloat even as the sea burned around them. Nearest to her, its flat-top unmistakable, was a large aircraft carrier, flames poured through the wooden flight deck even as the vessel lay at nearly forty-five degrees, planes sliding off her deck into the sea. Smoke, a massive column of, as black as her flight cap, pumped skyward, and she could see numerous smaller explosions adding to the chaos.

Two other carriers were nearby, anti-aircraft guns blazing away as they sought to drive away the cloud of enemy aircraft that continued to dive upon them. Dozens of smaller vessels mixed in, blasting skyward at aircraft, and at each other. A battleship lay aground, smoking slightly, two thirds of its superstructure gone, the magazine had clearly exploded.

A glance to her right revealed a lone P-38, smoke sputtering from its right engine, desperately manoeuvring to escape the determined pursuit of an enemy aircraft; likely a Zero, if her pre-time-travel training had taught her anything. She could see tracers pass just below the P-38 as it banked sharply to the right, directly toward her.

In that instant she was suddenly that her radio, the one thing they had thought for sure would not survive the portal, was very much working and alive with voices.

"Could really use a hand here!" A panicked voice came through her headset. "Engine out and I can't get this fucker off my tail. Anyone, respond!"

A moment later, before she had time to consider the cry for help, another voice broke through. "All aircraft, all aircraft, immediate air cover required for the USS Enterprise! Recall! Recall!"

The choice was hers.

 

[Saix]

The USS Enterprise was a name most people took note of when discussing WW2, especially when the topic of conversation or study is of the battles that had involved the United States military forces. The “Big E” had participated in several conflicts and was one of the few American carriers to survive the war that had been commissioned prior to their entry. Based on her military training, the most obvious source of action would be to answer the call for aid from the major carrier… however she was raised to operate differently and now that the shackles of having to answer to a commanding officer were no longer there, Amara was free to make her own decisions on the matter so long as she didn’t do anything to change the major course of history.

Amara chose to steer her aircraft to her right and focused her gaze on the machine that had hounded the twin of the one she currently operated. The Reisen looked just as she had seen in the photos and replicas that lived in the historical museums that she had visited during her time. The giant white lined red circles that adorned it’s wings and body were a stark contrast to the dark green paint that had been chosen as the main color of the plane which did very little to help it blend into the clear tropical waters that surrounded them and made it an easy target for someone of her skill level. With her left hand she flipped her comms into the broadcasting position to speak to the nearby allied aircraft.

“I have you covered.” She said to the frantic pilot as they did their best to evade their pursuer as smoke continued to bellow out of the right engine and waited for the perfect moment before she opened fire on the Japanese aircraft.

The enemy pilot hadn’t noticed her, given her position slightly above them within the light of the sun as well as their hyper fixation on finishing their already wounded prey. The trail of her bullets ran cleanly trough the nose of aircraft and straight through the cockpit of the Zero; an action that likely caused their immediate death and sent the plane barreling down towards the open ocean. Handicapped as it was, now there were two additional pilots available to answer the Enterprise’s call for aid.

 

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Sergeant David Branson had about ten seconds to try and process two very important facts. One, his life had been saved. Two, it had been by a woman! There was not mistaking the voice that had crackled through his headset, to high pitched for a mans, but what woman would be flying a Lightening? Even as the other aircraft roared over him, heading for the Enterprise, he was surprised to see it was a different version than the one he was flying. Not by much, a few odds and ends here and there, but it was certainly in much better shape. He aimed his nose down and followed his rescuer toward the Enterprise.

"Thank you." He managed to croak out, his throat raw from the smoke that filled his cockpit. He had tried opening the canopy but it only seemed to make things worse, possibly fueling the fire that burned somewhere in his internal wiring.

At that moment he saw a Japanese aircraft break from the melee in the sky above and dive directly toward the Enterprise. David thought, for a brief moment, the plane would drop a bomb and pull up but instead it slammed full speed into the flat top and exploded in massive ball of fire. More explosions followed as the flight deck and hanger below caught fire, igniting fuel and ordnance on the open decks. The two P-38's were still half a kilometer away when the Enterprise rolled over completely, dumping men and aircraft into the flaming waters around it.

Even from his height, David could see the dark slender shapes of sharks darting toward the men in the water and he felt sick to his stomach. The Enterprise was the third carrier in as many days to be lost as the Japanese launched a major offensive against the American landing forces. He cast his gaze further afield and spotted the HMS Indefatigable who had also come under attack. Another Japanese plane broke away from the cloud and dove into the British carrier but instead of blowing a hole in the deck, it simply "Pancaked" and its momentum carried it off the other side and into the ocean. Why the Americans didn't use armoured flight decks as well baffled him. A good hit like that could cripple, or even destroy, an American carrier; when they hit a British one it was a simple "sweepers, man your brooms".

The fighter ahead of him was quickly out pacing him as it dove toward the battle and he gamely pushed his throttle forward in an effort to keep up. It was the least he could do for someone who saved his life.

 

[Saix]

Amara stared in disbelief as the Enterprise capsized, dumping whatever aircraft, cargo, and personnel that had occupied her deck at that given moment into the open ocean. The kamikaze pilots had executed their objective well and demonstrated why the Japanese had adopted such a drastic tactic for the war. It could be devastatingly effective as one fighter could bring down an entire ship with their sacrifice. This sacrifice was sometimes a choice made willingly as they were a proud people whose history was to choose death instead of defeat or capture. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The scientists of her time were convinced that so long as history followed it’s main course, then her presence and any minor interference she did should not have changed anything. They were obviously wrong and since any choice she made here on out, possibly even her mere existence, would change the course of history as she knew it… then the gloves had to come off.

Just beyond what remained of the Enterprise was another ship that had managed to stay afloat. It was not as familiar to her, but Amara could recognize that it sailed under the Royal Navy from the flags that had been raised. The deck of this vessel seemed to be better reinforced than it’s American counterpart as she watched another Japanese pilot attempt to dive bomb it’s deck before it crumpled and skipped off the surface like a smooth rock across a calm lake water. However, that didn’t mean it could withstand a continuous onslaught if more pilots decided to sacrifice themselves for their emperor. Checking her mirrors, she could see that the pilot she saved was limping after her, smoke still billowing out from where his plane was hit. If he wanted to be her wingman that was his cross to bear as she had done her part in saving him.

Having grown up subjected to the immense g-forces created by the aircraft of her time, Amara was more than capable of pushing her aircraft to it’s absolute limits as she joined in the dog fight. She used all her skills as a fighter pilot to openly assault enemy aircraft, her goal being to take out their more experienced pilots first before they took out more of the allied fighters or decided to crash nose first into the remaining carriers. She left behind all thoughts of the American pilot, her mission, and her sorrows as she switch over to focus on the fight in front of her.

 

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Amara was so focused on the task at hand that she never did notice the P-38 behind her begin to lose altitude before nosing over to crash into the azure blue sea below. It bobbed there for a moment, the pilot-sergeant hanging unconscious in his harness before the plane slipped below the gently undulating waves as if it had never been there. Perhaps his death had been a kindness compared to the men who burned alive, their vocal cords so badly damaged by the searing heat they couldn't even scream; to say nothing of the hundreds of men who now drowned as the USS Enterprise suddenly seemed to rise violently from the water as a massive explosion tore her hull in two. Within minutes she too was gone beneath the waves.

The explosion seemed to stun everyone for a moment as the Japanese pumped their fists in celebration even as the American pilots looked on in disbelief. Then, like a moving picture sped up, the whole world began to accelerate again. The celebrating Japanese abruptly found themselves fighting for their lives as Amara flashed through them like an avenging angel. Her hours of training and the planes much modern construction and engine drove it to speeds unmatched in the sky, even the aircrafts ability to compensate for the g-forces easily allowed her to out maneuver the more agile Japanese planes with ease.

Even as she wrecked havoc the British air arm arrived and Submarine Spitfires added their massive Rolls-Royce engines to the fight, the roar as they clawed at the air audible even over her own twin engines. The sky was once again a mess of twisting and diving planes punctuated by tracers streaming up the dozens of warships below. Massive geysers soaked low flying planes as the capital ships continued to exchange broadsides and the water, where one could see down into it, was criss-crossed with the white streaks of torpedo's.

"G'day Yank," Her headset crackled as a spitfire bearing an Australian Airforce rondel turned and dove next to her, their guns shredding a slow moving Aichi torpedo bomber. "Seems we're both short a wingman. I'll follow your lead."

 

[Saix]

The sound of a new accented male voice in her ears managed to pull her from her focused assault on Japanese aircraft back into the present. Several allied planes had been weaving in and out of dogfights with her so she hadn’t paid particularly close attention to the one that now made it a point to follow her. Her last one likely perished one way or another as he had been limping along on his last leg and Amara had done all that she could for him. If she lived to touch down on land she would light a candle for him in respect for the ultimate sacrifice.

Yank? She asked herself, unfamiliar with what as to her an ancient slang term. She could only assume it was what others had called Americans as that flag was the one she currently used to fly undercover with. Amara flipped the switch to open the microphone on her helmet so she could speak with her new acquaintance.

“Copy. Keep an eye out for their bombers and anyone looking to try and clip our wings. If we can’t force a retreat from the Japanese then we’ll have to eliminate them all before they decide throw themselves into the ships again. Otherwise, if you have any alternative ideas, I’m all ears.” she spoke calmly and clearly into her mic as she continued to chase down enemy pilots that had still littered the air around them. Amara would have to be mindful now of her new companion as he was more useful to her than the last so long as they could keep their planes intact.