One Thousand Years (4 page)

McHenry
wondered if this could be an elaborate ruse intended to coerce
secrets out of him. The uniforms just seemed a little different from
the photos he had seen. Or they might be homemade renditions for
someone's strange idea of amusement. He looked back at the medical
screen behind him, and raised his arm again. Even the best white
hospitals didn't have this kind of equipment. Without waiting for an
answer, McHenry tried lifting himself out of the contraption but
quickly gave up struggling. He was firmly attached to the device.

“Who
are you?” he finally asked, staring at the black Nazi. The
words came out easily this time.

“You
have been through much,” the doctor said. “You suffered
from drowning, some broken bones, including your skull. The
treatments you received have been successful and we will be able to
remove the equipment in a few minutes.
I am
Doktor Oberleutnant
Evers.
This is
Oberführer
Mtubo;
and here is
Leutnant
Vinson.
Herr Vinson was one of the people who rescued you from the sea.”

“Well,
thanks,” McHenry acknowledged sarcastically.
He couldn't feel that anything was broken.
He still didn't remember crashing but that, at least, sounded plausible.
More plausible than a black Nazi, anyway.
He thought through his briefings, trying to remember Nazi ranks,
and guessed an
Oberführer
to be something like the Nazi equivalent of a colonel.

Oberführer
Mtubo stepped to the side of the bed and stood
with his hands behind his back, looking down his nose at McHenry.
It was a smug pose, as smug as he would expect from any
Nazi in the movies. “This might have been easier for you if I
had waited until you were fully recovered. Even so, your mind would
still find this difficult to grasp. Simply put, we have come here
from your future.”

“You're
saying that you're time travelers?” McHenry asked warily.

“I
mean exactly that,” said Mtubo. “We went backward
through time. We left our home in the year 2968.”

McHenry
said nothing, unsure which was easier to believe, time travel or a
black Nazi or the whole notion of a black officer seemingly in charge
of these other men. The black Nazi didn't even look old enough for
the rank he appeared to hold.

“Consider
it this way: The aircraft of your day were not possible fifty years
ago. Yet even now the Reich is building weapons that will smash
London from the coast of France. Mere decades from now, they will
build rockets that can fly to the moon.”

The
American still did not answer, so Mtubo went on. “Do not be
surprised what can be possible after one thousand years. This ship
can travel through time just as your primitive aircraft can fly
through the air.”

McHenry raised his head slightly.
“Does that mean we lost the war?”
He knew it was a stupid question, but he needed to be sure.

Mtubo
laughed, none-too-gently. “The Reich prevailed, just as it
always has and always will.”

McHenry
pushed his head back into the restraint and let out a sigh.

“From
our point of view, the war you were fighting ended long ago,”
Mtubo continued. “You may consider yourself to be our guest
here, Lieutenant. The
Kommandant
of this ship may even grant
you some limited privileges to walk about the ship, but do not
attempt to interfere with our operations here.”

The
Oberführer
did not wait for a response. He turned to
Vinson and spoke in German, issuing an order McHenry couldn't hope to
understand.

“
Jawohl!
”
Vinson replied with a click of his heels.

“
Heil
Renard!”
Mtubo said, thus ending the conversation.

Vinson
and the doctor clicked their heels against the deck and echoed the
Oberführer's
salute. “
Heil
Renard!”

Mtubo
turned and strode out the door, which seemed to slide open without
prompting. The door closed behind him on its own.

McHenry
lay there, pulse-pounding, dumbfounded. He had understood only the
Heil
part. “I'm guessing Renard is your
Führer
now,” he finally said.

“Yes,
she is,” the doctor answered.

“She?
You mean, your
Führer
is a woman?” He resisted
the urge to laugh.

“Yes.”
The doctor was looking directly at him now to see his reaction.

“Ah!” McHenry said.
It all made a kind of sense. Then he laughed. “It's
nice to know you're not heiling Hitler anymore.”

“You
have seen Adolf Hitler only through American propaganda,” said
Vinson, obviously a little offended at the remark.

“
Leutnant
,”
the doctor said to Vinson, “there will be plenty of time to
talk about such matters when Herr McHenry has become fully acquainted
with his situation. He needs time.”

“No,” McHenry protested.
“I can talk about this right now.”

Vinson
sighed. “Dr. Evers is correct. I have to return to my
debrief. There will be time for us to talk later. I hope we can
become good friends.” He held out his large hand for McHenry,
who accepted the handshake only with suspicion. “I will see
you later today if it is all right with the doctor.”

“That
should be fine,” the doctor said.

McHenry
watched as the automatic door opened for Vinson. Mtubo was right
about one thing, he realized. His predicament was hard to accept.
All of it. It was easier to believe that these men were from the
future than that America had lost the war.
We
were doing so well
, he
thought.

But
as the door closed behind Vinson, McHenry understood there could be
no better explanation. These men were indeed from the future. And
Germany had won the war. He was probably safe enough for now. The
only important question was, will he ever see home again? Then he
saw the swastika on the doctor's tunic again.
No, he realized. The first question was, how was he going to escape?

“We
can only imagine what you are going through,” Dr. Evers said.
“If it is of any consolation, please know that there has been a
lot of concern throughout the ship for your well-being.”

“Thanks,”
McHenry replied stiffly.

*

“If
Fascism comes to America, we shall not even have the excuse of being
the first fooled.”
—
John Land, The American Mercury, (April 1944)

“All
is finished. You are ready to be removed from the machine,”
Dr. Evers said, keeping his eyes on the images. He stepped back as
the enclosure slid down from around him. In three seconds, it seemed
to McHenry that they just dissolved into the frame of the bed.

Naked,
McHenry sat up and looked down. There were no scars. He felt like a
new man. “Do you have my clothes?”

The
doctor spoke in German to no one in particular, something he called
Rechner
, and a drawer opened at the wall. It revealed a
neatly folded sky blue uniform with a pair of boots. Taken aback,
and ever distrustful of his benevolent captors, McHenry grabbed the
whole ensemble and placed them in a pile on the bed. The drawer
closed again, leaving him to wonder whether it would have closed
immediately had he not taken it away. He was going to comment about
the rechner but he chose not to. If this truly was the future, he
could assume the Hollerith machines would have improved beyond the
relays and punch cards of his day.

The
garment's material was strange, but of plain design. The pants
pulled up loosely, with no belt or zipper, as though they were
several sizes too large. But the fabric tightened up once it reached
his waist. Almost like magic, they became a perfect fit.

“Whoa!”
he said aloud, and then cursed himself silently for revealing his
surprise.

“I
had not expected that our clothing would surprise you,” said
the doctor. “But I should have. Technology has advanced
immeasurably in even these minor details.”

McHenry
didn't need the doctor to tell him that. He pulled the blue shirt
over his head, and it tightened up around him in a way that seemed
almost alive. He stood erect and looked down at himself. This was
most definitely a Luftwaffe uniform, much like Vinson had worn, but
it had no markings on it, and thankfully, he thought, no swastikas.

“These
boots are the most comfortable I ever had,” he said finally.

“The
analysts who went through your effects had commented on the primitive
nature of your clothing. You will certainly find life to be very
comfortable in our time. Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah,
sure.” McHenry followed the doctor to a small office adjacent
to the infirmary. This could be a good time to make a break for it,
he thought. He sized up the doctor, who was a foot taller and
clearly quite brawny. Then he remembered that Vinson and Mtubo were
the same height. If all the men on this ship were this big, it would
be difficult to find circumstances where he could take any one of
them on. The office door closed behind them, automatically like the
others. McHenry would have to learn what made them open and close
before he could entertain any notion of escape.

The
doctor sat behind a desk and gestured for McHenry to take a seat
beside a wall covered with anatomical illustrations. “Cream or
sugar?”

“Yes,
both please.”

The
doctor said something in German — a command for the rechner —
and a slot beside the doctor's desk opened with two mugs of steaming
coffee. The swiftness astounded McHenry, who couldn't imagine that
coffee could even be poured in the time this took, let alone brewed.

The
doctor gave one of the cups to McHenry. “You will learn to
appreciate the technology we have here, Lieutenant.”

McHenry
tasted the earthy brew and was pleased. “Your rechner makes
good coffee.” He liked the doctor but fought the temptation to
reply more respectfully than propriety demanded.

“This
ship has the best of everything. You are on the finest ship in the
Reich.” But the doctor may have sensed he should not rush the
man into appreciating what to him had only recently been an enemy
nation. It was a difference probably greater than the thousand years
time.

“You
can say you were resurrected on Easter Sunday,” the doctor
joked.

“That's
blasphemy, Doctor,” McHenry responded.

“Are
you a religious man?”

“I
wasn't before today. I'll have to see how the day goes. Regardless,
I am respectful of others.”

“It
is a good way to be,” the doctor said contritely. “You
have my apologies. Well, then, you must have many questions.”

“Yes,”
McHenry answered without hesitation. “How many Negro Nazis are
there?”

The
doctor didn't even try hiding his smile. “The world
has changed since your times. People have changed. It is only
natural that the Reich would change, too.”

“It
can't be that simple.”

“Yes,
it can. We have had one thousand years of social progress. The
nations of the world, as you knew them, have all joined the Reich
long before I was born. The people are so much more interdependent
in modern society.”

McHenry
wasn't ready to believe. It was too much to hope for, too much to
believe. He had heard too many promises in the past. But he wasn't
going to argue over it either. It was better to get back to
business.

“Well,
what happens to me now? When can I go home?”

The
doctor sat back, held his breath for a moment and exhaled visibly.
“I am afraid you can never go home.” He paused for
another moment as the meaning of this answer could sink in.

McHenry
was not surprised but would pursue any argument. He would grasp at
any straws if need be. “I am entitled to the rights of a
prisoner of war under the Geneva Convention with all the privileges
of my rank. You are required to contact the Red Cross to notify them
of my capture.”

“You
know that is impossible. You are not a prisoner. You are a guest.
That war is over for all of us.” The doctor leaned forward
again, but looked into his coffee. “History records that your
aircraft was lost over the sea, and your body was never recovered.
If you were to return to your home in the present day, your actions
would affect how events were to unfold. Even if you only introduced
one small change into history, that one change could ripple through
an entire chain of events, causing some of our people — perhaps
even my grandparents — to never have been born.”

McHenry
mulled that over, looking for a way out. “But then couldn't
your picking me up change what happens?”

“In
theory, yes. You are taking in the complexities of time travel very
well. There are still some theoretical risks but there was no chance
that you could affect history. We had taken all possible
precautions. Your aircraft was already underwater. You were deep
enough that our equipment needed to clear your airway and restart
your heart.”

“And
I suppose that's easy to do nowadays.” McHenry looked again at
the diagrams on the wall.

“Very
easy to do, if we can recover you in time. Your bones were already
repaired even before your body came aboard this ship. My greatest
concern was that brain damage would cause loss of memory.”

McHenry
sighed. That might have been for the best, he thought. Then he took
another sip of coffee and remembered night phenomena. Were they from
the future too? “Tell me, Doctor. We had seen a very fast
aircraft. Could that have been you guys?”

“Absolutely
not. We had taken great pains to ensure that no one would see us.
You probably saw some of the jets or rockets the old Luftwaffe
developed during that war.”