July 17, 1986
11:23 a.m.
Catledge reclined in his luxurious chair on board his private plane. He'd had a very comfortable flight over so far, with visions of dollar signs from his big discovery dancing in his head. He scratched Haeckel's head. "This is just what we've been looking for, my friend," he told the dog, "This will pave gold our path to power."
"Dr. Catledge, we're about a half hour out from Cape Canaveral," Gately said, sticking his head through the front door to the plane's lounge, "It's good we're coming when we are, because Dr. Faraday just called and said they're having some difficulties with the subject."
"Well I'll calm the subject down, believe you me, Dr. Gately," Catledge told him,
"Of course sir," Gately gave one of his suck-up smile, "Only you can maintain order the way you do."
"Dr. Catledge, here's your next round of drinks," Biff announced, striding from the back kitchen with his tray. As he approached his boss, however, he tripped and spilled two glasses of Bacardi all over Catledge. Catledge growled and yanked his servant up. "Can't you do anything right!?" he bellowed, "Clean this stuff up!"
"Right away, Dr. Catledge, I'll get you a clean suit, too," Biff picked up the remnants of the glasses and scurried off. Catledge glowered after him. Tannen might be the next one on his hit list...
"Welcome to NASA," the tour guide announced to the group before her, "For the last thirty years, NASA has sent America into space to win the race to the moon and provides important research services, some of which has been spun off into everyday items that you use. Follow me and we'll begin our tour."
In the back of the group, Marty asided to Doc, "Kind of sugarcoating it, isn't she? I mean, with the Challenger blowing up earlier in the year, you'd think they'd be a bit more grounded in reality."
"Well, NASA's a bureaucracy now, Marty, they never accept blame," Doc muttered disgustedly, "and it's a shame no one will ever pay the ultimate price for sending those people to a fiery end."
"You don't seem too happy to be coming back here, Doc," Marty noticed.
"Let's just say that some of the most unpleasant memories of my life came when I was employed by the space program early in its existence," Doc told him evasively, "But I'd rather not go into detail about it. Once we round a corner, we'll break away from the group and see if we can find where they're keeping David Freeman."
"On your left," the tour guide was droning on, "you'll see our rocket test site. All our rockets here are provided by K.O.N.D.O.R. Industries in California, our major provider of technology for the last twenty-three years. To your right is a restricted area for our employees only. Our next stop will be the astronaut training area."
"See that cart?" Doc pointed to a laundry cart full of lab coats, "When everyone goes around that bend we'll take some of those suits and go into the employee area."
"Won't we need clearance, Doc?" Marty inquired.
"It's been a while since I was here, Marty, we may not," Doc told him. They sneaked over to the cart and each pulled out a lab coat. They huddled against the wall until their group had vanished, then ran over to the restricted area. "Excuse me sir," Doc asked a scientist who was approaching the entrance, "could you let us in? I forgot my access key from last night."
Marty really didn't expect this to work, but the scientist nodded and entered the code for them. They broke off from him once they were in the restricted area. "So where to now, Doc?" Marty asked.
"First stop is central control; perhaps they'd be kind enough to tell us where David is," Doc theorized.
"Or they could call the cops on us if they don't recognize us," Marty pointed out.
"That's chance I'm willing to take, Marty. The space-time continuum takes preference over one's personal desires," Doc told him.
It took them a few minutes to locate the front desk. The woman on duty was busy reading a magazine, and took several throat clearings from Doc to get her attention. "How may I help you gentlemen?" she asked in an overly cheery voice.
"Good morning," Doc greeted her, "I'm Dr. Julius von Braun, this is my intern Dr. Martin Baines, and we're here to see the big discovery."
"Really?" the receptionist asked, eyeing Marty's decidedly less than formal attire under his lab coat. Marty picked up her gist. "Uh, we just got the call on hour ago, didn't even have time for breakfast," he said quickly.
"Uh, do you have formal authorization to see him?" the receptionist inquired, "No one's allowed near him without a formal permit."
"Um, let me see here," Doc ran his hand through his pocket, "Oh yes, here it is," he whipped something out and held it up to the woman's face. Marty recognized it as his sleep-inducing Alpha Rhythm Generator. The receptionist fell backwards asleep. "You're really getting rather liberal with that, Doc," Marty said as his friend pocketed the futuristic device again, "First Jennifer and now her."
"It causes no permanent harm, so the risks in using it are minimized," Doc said. He hopped over the desk and typed some things into the main computer Marty couldn't quite make out. "Follow me," the scientist said, waving his arm down the corridor to the right.
Two minutes later, they found themselves entering NASA's maximum-security wing. There were rooms everywhere, and Marty wondered whether Doc could really know where David was, but the scientist never wavered. Finally, he pointed out the room at the far end of the corridor with an open door. "He's in there," he announced.
The two of them stuck their heads into the admittedly narrow room. Marty saw David sitting on the small bed talking with a nurse only a little older than he himself was. Right in front of them was a strange riding lawnmower-like device that looked like it belonged in the convention. Doc cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he told the two people in the room, "I would like to have a word with David in private if that's okay."
David folded his arms across his chest. He looked a lot like Marty's friend Chris from back in Hill Valley—only a whole lot angrier, probably for good reason. "I'm not doing anything else you say!" the kid shouted defiantly, "So go away!"
"Look, Dave, we don't want to cause you any harm," Marty protested, "We want to help you get back to where you came from."
"I've never seen you two around here before," the nurse admitted, giving them suspicious looks.
"We're the new guys," Marty said quickly.
"Miss, I think we'd be able to make David's life more comfortable, if you'll just give is a minute," Doc pressed on.
"Yeah sure," David said smugly, "That's what they've said since I was brought here."
Doc shrugged wildly, seeing no other no other alternative but the direct truth of the matter. "All right, I've invented time travel, and I'd like to use it to get you home," he blurted out.
The nurse shook her head. "Boy, your people have been getting crazy lately," she muttered. She pressed the command thing on the tractor thing, on which Marty noticed the acronym RALF and which seemed to have numerous dispersal holes for whatever. "If these guys give you any trouble, David, give me a call; I'll be right up the hall."
"Sure thing, Carolyn," David told her as she and the robotic device left. His face brightened a bit as he stared Marty and Doc in the face. "What's this about time travel?" he asked excitedly.
"Doc here figured out how to do it last October," Marty told him, "He wants to use it to send you back to where you left the right time."
"Indeed, but first I need to know the specifics of what happened to bring you to here and now, David, so please, tell me everything that happened up to and including your temporal displacement," Doc told the boy, bending down to be on his level.
David sighed in resignation, leading Marty to believe he'd been asked the same thing a hundred times before already. "Okay," he said, "It was the Fourth of July 1978, and I was going into the woods behind my house to pick up my brother Jeff from a friend's. He scared me, I chased after him and fell, and when I woke up I was here."
"And you have no idea what could have caused this temporal displacement?" Doc asked, quite curious now.
"No!" David shouted in frustration, how many times do I have to tell you bozos that!"
"All right, all right, you don't know," Doc waved his arms, "Marty and I don't work here, though, and to be perfectly frank I disapprove of the very nature of your dwelling here. It's not suited for someone of your age and seems to lack basic hygenal infrastructures. But then again that's just NASA's bureaucratic politics coming into play again. Anyway, is there anything else Marty and I should be aware of?"
The anger had drained from David's face as he realized Marty and Doc truly meant to help him. "Well, ever since I came back, I've been having these strange feelings, as if someone's taken over my mind. What I saw isn't what comes out on the generator things they have here. It's all coming from something over there, I think."
He pointed out the window at one of the big storage bays about a half mile over the NASA complex. Doc nodded, the pieces all starting to come together for him. "Thank you David, this makes our job a whole lot easier," he thanked the boy, "Now all we have to do is get you out of here and we should somehow be able to set things straight, because the longer you stay here in 1986, the more damage is done to the space-time..."
Just then there was the sound of pistols being cocked behind them. "All right you two, on your feet!" barked a harsh voice, "Turn around!"
The two veteran time travelers found themselves looking at a weasly-looking man who Marty compared strongly with the villain from the Police Academy films. "Who the hell are you two!?" this man barked.
"We could ask you the same question, pal," Marty retorted to him.
"G.W. Scroeder, head of security for this site," the man snapped, "And unlike either of you, I'm authorized to be here. So come on out of there now; you're coming with me!"
He nodded to his two thuggish henchmen, who pushed Marty and Doc at gunpoint into the corridor and sealed the door to David's cell, as it essentially was. "You can't lock the kid up like that!" Marty protested.
"We can do what we damn well please, kid, so keep walking!" Scroeder barked, pushing them harder, "Come on, move it, move it, move it!"
"I demand to talk to the person in charge of all this!" Doc bellowed, "I have so many complaints to lodge about what I've witnessed here and now that it would consume a list a mile long!"
"Good, because here's your chance!" Scroeder's goons shoved them into a lab. "Dr. Faraday, here's the intruders," he told the man in charge, a bespectacled middle-aged gentleman in a blue shirt and tie. "Thank you, Colonel Scroeder," this man said to the security man. He and several other doctors advanced toward Marty and Doc. "Okay, no song and dance routine, what are you doing here?" he asked with no sign of sympathy.
"Louis Faraday," Doc said with a snort, "So, you've finally worked your way up to the big man on the moon site. I guess the old patronage deal finally worked in your favor."
"You know this guy, Doc?" Marty asked.
"Yes, he was an office boy when I worked here previously. Worked his way up the corporate ladder here through the services of a man I thought was my friend," Doc's face glowed with contempt at whomever he was talking about.
Faraday's facial expression showed he didn't remember Doc. "Well, whoever you are, pal, let me remind you that you trespassed in a government area," he said sternly, "That's grounds for the filing of felony charges."
"You can't experiment on David like he's some kind of test animal!" Doc bellowed, "I've seen what you're doing with him, and quite frankly I'm appalled! Keeping him caged up out there like a wild beast! And look at this!" he pointed to the various equipment connected to several computer screens all around the lab, "He's far too young to be subjected to any of this! You know what, actually, no one deserves to go through this!"
"Yes, well, I'm in charge here, and I don't have to listen to you tell me how to operated this project," Faraday said curtly, "So why don't you just shut your mouth, old man, and walk out that door before I call the cops."
"Go ahead and call the cops!" Doc barked, "And then I'll call the governor of Florida, the Justice Department, the Humane Society, and the Ronald McDonald House and expose you for the manipulator you are!" After a moment's pause he added, "And John Walsh, too!"
"The guy whose kid was killed a few years ago?" Marty asked, "What good would he do, Doc?"
"Lots of good, Marty, for what we've got here is right up his alley," Doc told him.
"You'll do none of those things, my friend," came a cold voice from the wings. All heads turned as Dale Catledge entered the room...