The minute they landed in Germany, Marty felt like he had a knife ripping through his guts. Not only was it the dregs of his sea sickness, but he was bouncing off the nervousness of the entire crew. They docked and a man in a stiff black uniform approached them, a stern expression on his face. He was holding a clipboard, and looked rather irritated that they'd dare sully his clean, orderly dock with their presence. Marty risked looking around the port. There were soldiers everywhere, stony faced, looking as symmetrical as origami. They had every hair, every muscle in its place and relaxed. Marty had the impression that they were like lions. Still, but they could explode into action at any moment. The port town beyond the iron curtain of the Nazi security force looked relatively benign and normal, very busy with everything from proletariats to soldiers.
The Captain cleared his throat. "I'll take care of this. Keep your mouths shut and don't speak until spoken to." He said in a low voice to Marty and Emmett. Marty nodded, the man in front of them was mousy faced but there were fangs behind those pursed lips. He was sure of it. The captain exchanged terse words with the presumed dock manager, who immediately spied the large canvas covered time machine and pointed his pen to it. The captain answered in a rather blasé tone. He was obviously trying to downplay the worth of it. The dock manager answered back in a clipped, sharp tone.
Marty was sure they were sunk. He quietly closed his eyes when he heard the canvas being drawn back. The dock manager looked at the small mass of broken glass and shrugged, content to let the matter go. He had no idea what the machine was, so it must be what the captain told him. If the man wasn't honest he knew he risked jailing for trespassing as well as lying to a Nazi official.
Emmett could translate every word. The dock manager was curious about their 'luggage' but had instantly gave way the moment the captain had told him they were here to get the machine repaired. Of course the captain had thrown in some not-too-untrue tidbits fawning about German auto manufacture. Emmett brushed his fingers against Marty's thigh. They were going to be alright. His stomach nearly bottomed out when the dock manager's narrow black eyes focused on him and asked for his identification. Good lord. Here was the crux of it. Emmett pawed his pants and pulled out his passport, handing it shakily to the dock manager. The man thanked him and told him he could pick up his passport when he left the country, and would receive a temporary one in the meanwhile allowing him minimal clearance to automobile repair services.
He then asked why they came all that way to fix such an odd looking automobile. Emmett quickly replied it was for a special project, and he'd made the machine himself which wasn't entirely a lie according to Marty. He just hadn't made it yet in this time frame. The dock manager seemed satisfied with the answer, muttering something about the ugliness of the DeLorean. Emmett's stomach flipped when the manager turned to Marty and held his hand out for an ID.
"Uh…what's he want?" Marty leaned in close and asked him nervously.
"Your ID…" Emmett trailed off, his voice dying in his throat when the manager's eyes furrowed.
Marty pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and flipped it open, pulling out his driver's license. He handed it to the dock manager, who was clearly not used to the odd format. He took down Marty's name and sealed their identifications in an envelope, stripping the perforated slips from his clipboard. He handed them to both Marty and Emmett, giving them a strict order to head to the Immigration and Visitation Offices in the port town and give the man there their slips in order to receive temporary identification. If they lost these slips they could be jailed for trespassing and/or espionage without notice, and without the consult of a lawyer or foreign emissary.
Their luggage would be held here at the dock until they came back with proper ID. Marty didn't want to leave the time machine, and he visibly bristled when dock workers came aboard to try and move the thing. But the meaningful tug from Emmett on his arm meant he couldn't argue. He had to snap to and move. "I feel like Bond." He muttered to Emmett, adrenaline and excitement roiling in his gut.
When they were safely between the scrutinizing eyes of the Sturmbateilung keeping watch over the docks, Emmett breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought we weren't going to make it there for a moment." He said softly to Marty, smiling at him. Marty rubbed the back of his neck, glancing back at the tan-uniformed men guarding the dock.
"Yeah, I wouldn't want to get on their bad sides. They look like they could run security at a metal concert." Marty said.
"That's the Sturmbateilung. They're the stiff arm of the military…sort of like policemen but with the added factor of being soldiers. I don't know what sort of concert steel plays, but if it has anything to do with taking down an enemy as quickly and messily as possible…definitely." Emmett said, pulling Marty along the street. They were being stared at like they had lobsters growing out of their backs. As Americans they were complete oddities here, to be gotten out of the country as quickly as possible. Germany only allowed tourism under very strict circumstances, and showing up out of nowhere was bound to ruffle a few beaurocratic feathers.
Marty nodded. "They have like a shorter name or something?" he asked.
"The SA. If you think they're bad, get on the wrong side of the SS." Emmett replied, his eyes scanning for the Immigration Offices. They weren't clearly labeled, and all the Reich offices were in that odd spidery, gothic font that was very hard to read when it wasn't one's first language.
Marty cleared his throat, rubbing down his hair with a hand. He had no idea where Emmett was taking him, but he knew he couldn't be left behind. He followed his friend closely, letting his eyes wander. It looked like a cheerful little town…it even had a train station that had a cloud of coal dust surrounding the iron behemoth resting in its berth. Even the Nazi flags hanging from some of the more official-looking buildings looked more patriotic than menacing. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
He should have known better when he saw the man behind the main desk at the Immigration Offices. He snapped his fingers at the two teenagers and waggled them impatiently for the paper slips. Marty and Emmett thrust theirs at him, which he took and examined closely. Since they were signed and stamped he was satisfied. He took them each to the side, took their pictures, and issued them both laminated temporary IDs. Both the boys had the shared opinion that they were being processed similar to criminals. But that was the Nazi way. They preferred to be prepared for criminal conduct rather than get caught with their pants down.
Emmett wanted to go back and get the time machine, but it seemed they weren't going anywhere for a while. They had to wait at the immigration office until their papers had been approved by a much higher office, then returned. They were given small chairs to sit in until the call came through that they could roam about, and even then they were on a time limit.
"He said we can stay two weeks." Emmett said. "That means we need to find some way to tow your automobile to Munich and reach my grand uncle…and get it fixed, all in two weeks." He began nervously chewing his nails. "It can't be done. We have to apply to stay longer."
"And how frickin' long is that going to take?" Marty said, exasperated. They'd been messing around here nearly an hour and a half! He couldn't take the beaurocracy, it was choking him!
"As long as they want." Emmett said nervously. "We need to hire a car to tow it to Munich, and contact my grand uncle there. We don't even know if he'll see us…he's very busy."
"He might be busy but this is a matter of life and death. Doc you told me….your older self told me that if I was born in 1985 and die earlier…then the entire structure of time will unfold. We'll all die." Marty said. "Everyone."
Emmett looked up at the immigration manager, who had been smoking the last twenty minutes while he waited for their approval. "It's ok. Everything will be ok." He said, but his voice sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.
Another hour, and they were approved to stay in the country two weeks. Emmett pointed out that this would at least buy them some time to get to Munich and contact the head offices there rather than waiting for phone calls…wherever this was. Marty agreed, they had to be on the move as fast as possible. A quick search around the area with Emmett's superior German skills earned them a tow truck, with the promise to turn it in at the company's Munich office within twenty four hours or it would be reported stolen.
"Great, another time crunch." Marty grumbled.
"Time cant' be compressed, it's a logical fallibility." Emmett said happily.
"So Einie, we know Marty's year and location from the note we found in the mailbox." Doc said, rubbing his chin as he stared at the chart he'd drawn out. "It seems the time circuits dropped him in the middle of the second world war instead of 1955, a much more safe time to be messing around in." he bit the end of the pencil he had in his hand, thinking. "We can't send anything back. So we either have to pray and hope for the best or do something completely outside of the realm of known science." He looked at the shepherd, who lowered his ears.
"I don't like the options either." Doc plunked himself down in a chair he hadn't remembered being there before. Come to think of it, his garage was so orderly now. Much easier to plan with the blackboard in front of everything…hadn't it always been this way? Of course it had been. He'd always organized it like this, from some deep rooted sense of needing things orderly. "Well…I…no, that won't work." He frowned, letting his teeth sink into the eraser. "Einie give me something!" he said in an exasperated tone to the dog.
Einstein yawned and laid down, flicking his ears up and gazing boredly at the chalkboard.
"Some kind of lab assistant you are." Doc mumbled.
