Before History

By Flaming Trails

A BTTF: PreTime Story

Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. If I did, life would be sweet.


Part 1

Saturday, October 18th, 1985

Hill Valley, California

1: 21 A. M.

Doc realized he'd been a total idiot. What kind of responsible scientist trusted Libyan terrorists to steal plutonium for him? Worse, what kind of responsible scientist then ripped them off by giving them a fake bomb made of pinball machine parts?

Doc just wished he had thought of these things before he had found himself staring down the barrel of a bazooka.

He had just been putting the finishing touches on his greatest invention when they had burst in. Einstein had ran to protect him and had been immediately shot. Now he was tied up in the corner of his garage, under armed guard. The other terrorists were packing up the plutonium, as well as anything they could sell on the black market.

Doc snuck a glance toward the DeLorean. The terrorists had smashed it to pieces when they had captured him. He sighed softly. 30 years of work wasted.

The leader of the terrorists finally stopped their work. He walked up to Doc with a cold, deadly expression. "Dr. Brown, you American dog," he spat. "You have betrayed our cause. For that, you will die."

Doc held his head up nobly. "I stand by my decisions," he said. "I have no regrets about what I did."

"Silence!" The leader turned to his co-conspirators and babbled out some commands. They rushed to obey him. "You will see now how those who cross the Libyan United Front pay!"

One of the terrorists came back holding a strange-looking chest harness. They strapped it onto Doc, who watched them in puzzlement. What were they doing? "Prepare to--"

He was cut off by the sudden arrival of another terrorist, who came in yelling wildly. Doc's jaw dropped when he saw that he was dragging Marty along behind him. "Marty!"

"Doc!" Marty was glancing every which way, scared out of his wits. "Who the hell are these guys?! I saw this weird van parked around the corner, and when I came by for a closer look, this guy grabs me!"

The leader looked from Marty to Doc, an evil grin blossoming on his face. "A friend of yours, Dr. Brown?"

"Leave him alone. He knows nothing," Doc said with a calm he didn't really feel.

The leader shook his head. "Oh, no, Dr. Brown. Just by coming here, he knows too much." He pointed from Doc to Marty, shouting out more commands. The terrorists promptly tied up Marty, and transferred the chest harness device from Doc to Marty. The leader pulled a remote control from his pocket. "Your friend is strapped to a bomb," he casually informed a horrified Doc. "As soon as I press this -- ka-boom!"

"No! No, please! I'm the one you want! Put it back on me! Let Marty go! I'm begging you, let him go!"

The Libyans just laughed and walked out the door. Marty stared at Doc in shock. "Doc. . . ?"

Doc began to cry. He couldn't help himself. "Marty, I'm so sorry."

Then they both heard the click --

Doc jerked awake and sat up straight in his bed, breathing hard. He wiped the sweat off his face reflexively as he looked around in fear. The house was quiet and still in the moonlight. There were no terrorists, no bombs, no destruction. Just a regular old house.

Doc slumped against the headboard of his bed. For the past three days, he'd lived with nightmares like these. It had all started with his latest invention -- a time machine. The plans had been Doc's pride and joy for 30 years. Now, it seemed, his efforts were finally about to bear fruit. The only problem was the issue of power.

Early on in the development of the machine, Doc had discovered that it would take a massive amount of power to move even the simplest object through the space-time continuum. He had calculated the minimum amount at 1.21 gigawatts. The only things that could generate that much power were either a bolt of lightning -- or a nuclear reaction.

Doc had not wanted his machine to be powered by anything nuclear. Back in the mid-40s, the government had enlisted him to help with the Manhattan Project and in making nuclear bombs. His main jobs had been double-checking the plans for the bomb, then studying the effects of nuclear radiation where it had gone off. Although he had gotten to meet his idol, Albert Einstein, the entire experience had disturbed him. The explosion site had become a wasteland. Doc had found animals who were dying from radiation sickness, vomiting blood and losing their hair, almost every day. He had been very glad when they had released from the project.

So, naturally, over the years, he tried thousands of alternatives to nuclear energy. He had even built a small lightning machine in the vain hope he could get at least enough power to light a light bulb. But with the deadline he had set for himself looming, he had reluctantly turned to nuclear power.

He had built a small plutonium reactor in the DeLorean, then set about looking for plutonium. He hadn't been able to secure any by legal means, so, in desperation, he had turned to the Libyan United Front. They had agreed to steal the plutonium for him if he would use some of it to make a bomb for them. Doc had agreed, having no intention of upholding his end of the bargain. Once the plutonium was in his possession, he had built a dud bomb out of pinball machine parts and delivered it to the Libyans.

That had been three days ago. Now Doc was plagued with nightmares that they'd find out what he'd done and come back for revenge. It was always the same theme -- he would be killed, along with at least one of the McFlys, usually Marty. He hated thinking that he had put his best friend in danger.

He jumped when he felt a cold nose poke his skin. He looked down to see Einstein nuzzling him, softly whining. Doc gathered up the dog and gave him a hug. "Did I wake you up, Einy?"

Einstein barked and licked his face. Doc smiled and ruffled his hair. "Maybe you're just as excited as I am about the time machine. At least, you'd better be. You're going to be the first one using it."

Doc's smile lessened as he said that. The time machine was his greatest invention, no doubt about it. But he seemed to be paying a very high price for finally realizing his dream -- his life and the lives of his closest friends. There was only one thing left to do.

He had to leave Hill Valley.

Doc got up very quickly and threw on some clothes. His mind raced through his options of places he could go. The best place seemed to be Grass Valley. It was fairly close to Hill Valley, but just far enough for him to feel safe. That way he could keep tabs on what was happening in his hometown.

He grabbed some necessities -- food for himself and Einstein, more clothes, his radiation suit, a tool belt -- and stuffed them into a suitcase. He checked on the plutonium under the cot near the door, then whistled to Einstein. "Here boy! We're going!" Satisfied everything was in order, he headed for the garage.

Halfway there, he stopped and looked at the phone, resting with research materials on the bookshelf. Should I call Marty? I don't want him to worry about me. But what if the terrorists are already on to me? What if they managed, somehow, to tap my phone? I can't put my friends in danger! Damn, what to do. . .

Doc snapped his fingers. "A-ha!" He snatched up pen and paper and scribbled down a quick note:

Marty --

In danger. Had to leave. Will contact you when safe. Don't worry.

Doc -- ELB

Folding it once, Doc tucked it near the amp, where Marty was almost sure to find it. Satisfied, he continued quickly to the van.

Saturday, October 18th, 1985

Grass Valley, California

1: 53 A. M.

Doc shivered as he sat in his van. It was cold inside the Stor-it garage. He wondered what the proprietor thought of his insistence that he stay with his van as much as possible, including overnight. Probably thinks I'm crazy, he shrugged. No matter. At least I'm safe now.

On a whim, he got out of the van's cab and opened up the back. He smiled as he looked at the DeLorean. Even in the dim light, he could see how beautiful it was. It's too bad that more of these cars weren't made. I'd kind of like to have one for personal use. He gave the hood a friendly pat and enclosed it again. His exhaustion finally catching up to him, he climbed back into the van's cab and fell asleep.