CHAPTER 12 – REST AND RECUPERATION
09:14 (GMT)
Thursday, September 12, 1940
St-Thomas Hospital, London
The first thing she saw when she woke up was Doug Wilson’s smiling face. She smiled back weakly, still groggy from the effects of the painkillers. Her voice was coarse, her throat parched.
“Doug… good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Nancy. God, you scared me this time.”
“Think you scared… how about me? Could I have some water?… My throat… dry.”
Doug Wilson looked around the small private room given to Nancy and filled a glass from a pitcher on a bedside table. She winced in pain when he gently helped her to a sitting position but didn’t let out even a moan. She emptied the glass quickly.
“Do you want more water?”
“No, thanks. I think I will keep sitting… Tired of being on my back. Where am I?”
“St-Thomas Hospital, in London. You were transferred to here from Folkestone yesterday. The doctor told me that they extracted quite a collection of bullets and shrapnell from both you and your bullet-proof vest.”
She suddenly had a worried expression. Doug tried to reassure her.
“Don’t worry about your special equipment: it is back in Northolt and is being cleaned up.”
“I wasn’t thinking about my equipment, Doug. What about Townsend and all the others? Did they make it?”
Wilson mentally kicked himself for his choice of priorities.
“I was told that everybody made it back, except for one corporal and one private.”
Nancy suddenly felt down.
“Dobbs… He was killed by mortar fire while in the half-track with me. Doug, could you find out about Townsend and Durling?”
“I will try to find out about Captain Townsend. As for Flight Lieutenant Durling, he is right here, in this hospital. I was going to see him after you.”
She grinned at that news.
“Hell, I must see him! Can you get a wheelchair for me?”
“Sure! Give me a minute.”
He was back with a wheelchair after a few minutes and an argument with a nurse. Nancy insisted on stepping out of bed and into the wheelchair without assistance, which gave another fit to the nurse who had argued with Doug. Nancy gave the British woman a dubious look.
“Look, Nurse, I know you mean well but I can take care of myself. Besides, the best therapy is to be active. Furthermore, tell the doctor that I won’t accept any more morphine shots from now on: I need to have a clear mind if I want to be able to work.”
The nurse then left, thoroughly scandalised. Nancy’s chuckle stopped when she started stepping out of her bed, her face paling. Obviously in pain, she still managed to make it on the wheelchair alone, attracting a tender kiss on her forehead from Doug Wilson.
“You are the gutsiest woman I ever met.”
As they left the room, the guard at the door, a military police corporal, started following them. Nancy made Doug stop her wheelchair and faced the MP.
“Corporal, do you need to follow me everywhere?”
The young man, a bit embarrassed, held his ground.
“Sorry, Captain, orders from General Joubert. He is afraid that the Germans know enough about you to make them try to kill you. I have orders to escort you around, maam.”
Recognising the good sense in Joubert’s logic, Nancy suddenly had an uncomfortable thought.
“Doug, it is true that the Germans know way too much about me, which means only one thing: somebody in or near Northolt has been feeding information about me to the Germans. I’m afraid this means I will have to leave Northolt.”
She pressed Wilson’s hand against her cheek.
“I hate the idea that I would have to be away from you but, if I stay, I may attract more air raids on Northolt. I can’t place others at risk because of me.”
Doug crouched besides her wheelchair, his eyes moist.
“Nancy, your safety is the most important thing for me now. I don’t mind you working in London. In fact, Air Chief Marshal Dowding is arranging something about that right now. We still can see each other from time to time.”
They exchanged a long kiss, with the corporal turning his back timidly. Resuming their trip, the trio arrived at a large ward with about twenty beds in it, most of them occupied. Wilson and the guard were surprised by Nancy’s yell as they were about to enter the ward.
“WOMAN ON THE FLOOR! PUT YOUR UNDERWEAR ON IF YOU’RE SQUEEMISH.”
A concert of laughs and crude jokes answered her. Doug wheeled her towards a patient whose bed was surrounded by four pilots in dress uniform. Nancy recognised one of them as Durling’s squadron leader. He suddenly called the pilots to attention, then saluted her. Deeply touched, she returned it despite the pain from her right arm: a captain was supposed to salute a squadron leader first. His salute was thus a mark of respect towards her. The Canadian squadron leader then shook gently her hand.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Captain. That was a fantastic job you did in France.”
“I was not alone on that mission, sir. You may also thank the Royal Commandos that were with me: they paid with the blood of two of their men.”
“I know and I agree, Captain: the squadron has sent condoleance cards to their families, along with a jeroboam of scotch to their unit. I can see you paid a price too. Nothing serious, I hope?”
“The doctors say that there should be no permanent damage. I was lucky. May I see Durling, sir?”
“But of course! I’m afraid though that he is half-asleep from those painkillers. He is due for repatriation to Canada once out of this hospital.”
Wheeling her chair next to Durling’s bed, she saw that he was probably incapable of recognising her: he was too far gone into drug-induced dreams. She held his hand a moment and decided she would be better off to return another day to talk to him. She then faced the squadron leader.
“How is the air battle going, sir?”
“You have not been told? We are on the offensive now. We have been flying escort missions for Bomber Command for the last two days.”
“YES! What about London? Has it been bombed again after that first big raid?”
“The Germans tried once a day later, but their fighter escort was very limited and we bloodied their nose bad. They have not tried again since.”
Nancy nearly jumped with joy in her wheelchair.
“So, the price we paid on that Saturday was worth it.”
“Well worth it, Captain. Air Chief Marshal Dowding’s plan was a masterpiece of air strategy: it has broken the back of the Luftwaffe in France and Belgium.”
Wilson noisily cleared his throat, attracting the look of the squadron leader.
“With all due respect to Air Chief Marshal Dowding, the plan was suggested to him by Captain Laplante. I think that he would be the first to concede that, sir.”
The Canadian pilots all stared in awe at Nancy, who blushed. She tried to minimise her role in this but could not escape having to promise to have a round of beer on them the next time she was in Northolt. As she was wheeled back by Wilson to her room, the guard still in tow, she could not resist giving him a piece of her mind.
“Doug, I know you meant well, but please keep my role as low profile as possible. I don’t want to be considered as an omnipotent goddess.”
“You mean that you’re not one? Your name is Athena, isn’t it?’’
“Doug, fuck off!”
Climbing back in her bed was no fun at all, even with the help of both Doug and the guard. It left her covered with sweath and nearly out of breath from keeping her screams in.
“Doug, I will need to keep my mind occupied if I don’t want to go insane in this place. Could you write down a list of things to bring to me here on your next visit.”
“Of course! Shoot!”
She explained for a few minutes what she needed and where to find it. Once that was noted down, Doug promised to bring it all before supper, then left after another kiss. Nancy then went to sleep for a while, tired by her short excursion and by what was left of morphine in her system.
She was finishing an incredibly bland lunch when she got another visitor at 13:10 hours. Doctor Reginald Jones dropped on the bedside table a bag containing a stack of Nancy’s 2012 magazines that he had borrowed a few days ago. She whooped with pleasure and grinned at the young scientist.
“Doctor Jones, you don’t know how much this will help me here. I’m starting to hate hospitals: they are so boring.”
“I can believe that. Since my workplace is an easy walking distance from St-Thomas, I decided it was a good time to have another chat with you. But first, how are you?”
“To say that I’m well would be an obvious lie, but I will go over this. A few holes and bruises here and there but no broken bones or severed nerves: I was damn lucky. My body armor also proved its worth more than once that night: I would certainly be dead without it.”
Jones shivered in horror at that thought, his smile replaced by a deeply concerned look.
“Nancy, what I’m going to say is no simple flattery. You are too damned precious, downright irreplaceable actually, to risk your life like that. Look at what you have accomplished already: you have saved London from months of bombardments; saved thousands of lives and completely reversed the course of the air war over Great Britain. On top of that, the electronics you gave me to look at are already advancing significantly our technology. That radar detector of yours has already helped us solve the problems we were having in developing decimetric wavelength radar. We are now looking at producing centimetric radars in the near future. That is not the best part yet. You remember telling me that we could not duplicate those transistors for lack of means to produce semi-conductor crystals pure enough to be used?”
She looked at him with growing disbelief.
“Don’t tell me that you already did…”
“Not me, but a friend of mine who is a chemist. It happens that he is an expert in crystal structures but has had little success getting grants or support for his research…until now! Would you believe that he had already developed a process to purify such crystals but had not been able to market it due to lack of funds? Now, he has just been given a laboratory, a dozen staff members and unlimited funding with the goal of producing eventually transistors like the ones in your equipment. He told me just this morning that he thinks he will succeed within six months.”
“Six months! I was thinking ten years would have been more realistic.”
“You see! I’m telling you again: you are too damn precious to England to play soldier around.”
“I agree fully with Doctor Jones, Miss Laplante.”
The newcomer’s voice took them both by surprise. Looking at the doorway, Nancy’s eyes bulged when she saw Prime Minister Winston Churchill standing in the entrance, with Air Chief Marshal Dowding directly behind him. The Prime Minister seemed amused by her reaction.
“I never seem to fail to unsettle people wherever I go. May I come in?”
“S…sir, you do not need to ask permission for that.”
“Ah, but where would good manners be then? Please stay, Doctor Jones: what I came here to say may be of interest to you also.”
An aide-de-camp hurriedly brought in extra chairs, then left Nancy with Churchill, Dowding and Jones sitting in a semi-circle around her bed.
“Sir, this is too much of an honor. There are many young men in this hospital who would deserve your visit even more than me.”
“Modest too? Miss Laplante, be assured that I will not forget them today. As for the person who saved London from destruction, I present to her the heartfeft thanks of the British people.”
“Sir, saving lives is the best reward I could hope for.”
“Miss, I am here to offer you a way to keep saving more British lives. As Doctor Jones said so well, your talents are wasted as a simple combattant. You have proved lately that your advice can be invaluable to this country. I thus offer you a position as my special advisor on military and foreign affairs. You will have direct access to all echelons of the government and armed forces, along with my full backing.”
Nancy swallowed hard: this would open to her fantastic opportunities to correct or prevent many of the costly mistakes yet to be made in this war. The consequences of her future actions could be enormous.
“What would be my job specifically, sir?”
“Help us fight this war more efficiently, by either improving our military or by advising me on strategic matters in order to make a quicker victory possible. You would attend all committees concerned with the war effort and general staff meetings on strategic planning. You will answer to no one but myself and I promise you that your advice will be listened to.”
“With all due respect, sir, I have found out up to now that very few people in this time period are ready to listen to a woman’s advice, or even to consider one the equal of men.”
Churchill smiled in mild embarrassment at that.
“I must confess that I am normally one of the worst offenders in that respect. However, you are no ordinary woman, Captain. Do you accept to be my advisor?”
“Sir, how could I refuse such an offer? I accept with great pleasure, sir. Can I ask a couple questions, sir?”
“Sure, go ahead!”
“First, will I be considered a civilian or a military officer?”
Churchill looked at Dowding with a questioning expression. The air chief marshal then took over the conversation.
“You still have the status of exchange officer with the RAF and can wear your uniform if you want to. However, I foresee problems for you trying to convince generals and admirals while wearing captain’s stripes. You may be better off as a civilian specialist on military and foreign affairs, which you actually are if I refer to your civilian job in your own time. You will thus be officially seconded to the Prime Minister’s Office, with the rank of senior government advisor. This should remove much of any resistance towards using your advice. I can guarantee you though that you will not encounter such resistance from within Fighter Command.”
“That sounds fine to me, sir. My second question concerns foreign affairs. As you may readily agree, the future roles of both the United States and the Soviet Union will be crucial in this war. How much can I get involved there? I ask this question because I have vital information to pass to both of these countries.”
“Miss Laplante, as long as it is vetted in advance my me, I can assure you direct contacts with both American and Soviet officials, as long as you hide your true origins.”
Churchill thought for a moment before continuing.
“However, your nature as a source must be kept secret. Any information passed to non-British persons will bear the codename ‘Athena’, without further precision on how it was obtained, apart that it is considered as totally accurate and reliable by us.”
“Neat! I like this, sir. I…”
A loud exchange outside the room interrupted her. Recognising Wilson’s voice, she looked at Churchill.
“Prime Minister, I believe that Flight Lieutenant Wilson is here with some personal equipment of mine I requested him to bring in order for me to do some work during my stay here. Can he come in?”
“Of course! TRAVIS, LET THE OFFICER IN!”
A somewhat flustered Wilson was then admitted in, carrying two bulging bags, only to stop in his track and stand at rigid attention, putting down the bags before saluting both Churchill and Dowding.
“Flight Lieutenant Wilson, here on request of Captain Laplante, sir!”
“Carry on, Flight Lieutenant!” Responded Dowding. He and Churchill watched with curiosity as Wilson emptied the duffel bags, distributing and installing various pieces of equipment close to Nancy’s bed. She explained them to her visitors as the installation went on.
“Mister Wilson has brought my portable computer, a data processing machine, along with peripheral equipment like a printer, a power regulator and a transformer. This little suitcase there contains my computerised library, from which I got most of the information you already used. It is equivalent in volume of knowledge to several dozen encyclopedias.”
“Amazing!”
Churchill examined one of her CD ROM disks handed to him by Nancy before giving it back.
“In fact, sir, during the next few days, I will be preparing briefing notes for both the American and Soviet ambassadors, which will of course be vetted by you prior to delivery.”
Churchill smiled in appreciation.
“You do not waste any time, Miss Laplante. I like that.”
“Thank you, sir. As for the rest of my equipment, they are simply for recreational purpose: this place needs some music if I’m not to go crazy in this bed.”
Doctor Jones then timidly raised his hand, like a schoolboy asking permission to speak from a stern teacher.
“Yes, Doctor Jones?” Said Churchill.
“Sir, you said when you arrived here that some of the discussion may concern me. May I inquire about that?”
“Of course! What I meant to say is that, as far as any of Miss Laplante’s technological knowledge is concerned, she will be able to use you as a contact point for any transfer of technical information. I believe that you have already started applying such an information transfer: you now have my personal blessing to continue.”
Jones face was now radiant.
“Thank you very much, Prime Minister. This should advance our science tremenduously.”
“Now, gentlemen, I propose that we leave the young lady alone: she is obviously in need of a rest. Again, my sincere congratulations for a job well done, Captain Laplante.”
They then filed out of her room, leaving Nancy to digest the implications of what had just been said and decided. She then realised that she was effectively exhausted, as Churchill had noticed. Within minutes she was asleep to the music of Sarah Brightman’s CD ‘DIVE’.
She spent the next few days preparing briefing notes, enduring painful change of dressings sessions and chatting with Flight Lieutenant Durling about Canada, both the 1940 and 2012 versions. He particularly loved listening to Nancy’s modern music on her portable radio/cassette/CD player, singing along the tunes with Nancy. She was by now the unofficial queen of his ward, with each of her visits greeted by cheers and blown kisses.
On the afternoon of Monday, September 16, she was in the middle of a conversation with Durling by his bedside when she heard a commotion and loud voices in the hallway. She instinctively reached for her Glock 26 pistol, which she was wearing hidden under her hospital garb, ready to pull it out if this turned out to be a German assassination attempt on her. She however withdrew her hand quickly when she heard the respectful exclamation of one of the patients.
“The king! The king is coming here!”
Nancy’s blood accelerated in her veins. She had come to measure in the last days how much veneration King George VI attracted: a timid monarch afflicted with chronic stuttering, he was loved for his dedication to his people and attention to the welfare of all. The king, dressed in a field marshal’s uniform and accompanied by numerous aides and senior officers, including Air Chief Marshal Dowding, stopped in the doorway of the ward while the patients hurriedly returned to their respective beds. Nancy saw a doctor point Durling’s bed to the king.
“Oh shit! He’s here for you, Jack! Let me get out of the way.”
She wheeled her chair away, past the next bed, and watched the king as he slowly approached, shaking hands with patients and giving words of encouragement. Once at the foot of Durling’s bed, the monarch made a sign to his aide-de-camp, who started reading from an official citation.
“On the seventh day of September, 1940, Flight Lieutenant Jack Durling, of the First Fighter Squadron, Royal Canadian Air Force, was on his second combat sortie of the day in defence of the city of London, then under German air attack. Pursuing a group of German bombers all the way to the French coast, he succeeded in shooting down two Heinkel 111 bombers before being shot down by German air defence guns and being captured. Subjected to severe tortures by his captors, he heroically refused to give any information until he was freed in a commando raid on the prison where he was being held. For both his prowess in the air and courage under torture, His Majesty George the Sixth awards him the Distinguished Service Order.”
Nancy applauded and cheered along with the rest of the ward as the king pinned the medal on Durling’s chest, then shook the hand of the overwhelmed pilot. The king suddenly turned and walked to her, stopping directly in front of her with a tender smile on his face. Nancy suddenly felt very uncomfortable as everybody but the king stepped away to form a semi-circle around her. The king’s aide-de-camp then started reading from a second citation.
“On the night of the ninth day of September, 1940, Captain Nancy Laplante, of the Canadian Army Military Intelligence, participated in a commando raid suggested and planned by her, with the goal of freeing RAF aircrews being held and tortured in German-occupied France. Parachuting at night from high altitude, she landed on the roof of the prison where the aircrews were interrogated and succeeded in giving access to a platoon of Royal Commandos, personally killing a number of German soldiers in the process. During that phase of the operation she was nearly killed, but refused to be evacuated with the liberated aircrews, even though she knew that capture would mean certain torture and death for her. When a German patrol boat threatened the Royal Navy patrol boat sent to evacuate her group, Captain Laplante engaged it with a captured anti-aircraft gun, destroying the enemy patrol boat and making possible the escape of her comrades. Furthermore, when the captured vehicle she was using was destroyed, Captain Laplante, already wounded twice and under mortar and small arms fire, extracted a fellow officer from the burning vehicle and carried him to safety. Before she was helped to the rescue boat, she was hit a further two times but continued to drag her unconscious comrade, even ordering the commandos coming to her help to take him away first before accepting to get onboard the boat. For the extraordinary acts of courage and dedication to duty in the presence of the enemy shown by Captain Laplante, His Majesty George the Sixth awards her the Victoria Cross.”
Tears came to Nancy’s eyes as the king took out of a small box a medal with a deep red ribbon, pinning it on her hospital gown and kissing her on both cheeks under the wild applauses of everybody in the ward: only the best and bravest of all could aspire to the Victoria Cross, the highest award for courage in the British Empire. Her modesty was in for more battering, as the aide-de-camp started reading from a third citation.
“During the first week of September, 1940, Captain Nancy Laplante, of the Canadian Army Military Intelligence, actively participated in the defence of Great Britain against German air attacks. Providing critical and timely intelligence of her own, she was a crucial factor in preventing the destruction of vital aircraft factories by German air bombardment. Furthermore, by providing more critical and timely intelligence of her own and by suggesting a plan that resulted in very heavy German aircraft losses, Captain Laplante was a key factor in preventing the destruction of the city of London by massive and repeated enemy air bombardments, potentially saving the lives of thousands of innocent civilians by her actions and initiatives. For this invaluable help to the British Empire, His Majesty George the Sixth is naming Captain Nancy Laplante a Commander of the Order of the British Empire.”
“I’m looking forward to inviting you for dinner at the palace, Captain Laplante.” Whispered the king as he was putting the ribbon of the C.B.E. around her neck. She could only nod in agreement, incapable of speaking. The king solemnly saluted her and turned away, followed by his aides and the senior officers. She was still speechless as the patients of the ward ganged on her to congratulate her. Wheeling her chair besides Durling’s bed, they embraced each other for a long moment. He finally looked at her with gleaming eyes.
“Nancy, do you realise that you are the first woman ever to win the Victoria Cross?”
“I am?” Was the only thing she was able to say then.
09:46 (Universal Time)
Wednesday, December 10, 3383
Zeta-Alpha orbital city
Earth geostationary orbit
The Global Administrator for Sciences, Daran Mien, stopped dictating to his computer when his desk videophone buzzed, announcing an incoming call. He activated the video screen, making the face of Doctor Farah Tolkonen, one of the top World experts in physics, appear.
‘’Doctor Tolkonen, what can I do for you today?’’
‘’I believe that I am the one who can do something for you today, Administrator Mien. I believe that I found the cause of the space-time distortions that have been shaking our universe for two weeks now.’’
‘’I’m listening.’’ Said Mien, immediately interested. Those distortions were causing grave perturbations throughout the Solar System, scrambling the most sensitive clocks and throwing interplanetary ships out of their trajectories without apparent reasons or explanations. The first wave of distortions had been by far the most severe, but subsequent waves were still being felt from time to time. Farah Tolkonen, who was like all the citizens of the Global Council a bald giant standing over two meters and with six fingers per hand, crossed her fingers and spoke in a measured tone.
‘’You remember the two scientists who disappeared two weeks ago, Administrator Mien?’’
‘’Uh, yes! Are they implicated in these distortions?’’
‘’Most definitely, if I can go by what I found. I went through their research notes in their lab in New Lake City and I can now tell you with certainty that they were engaged in illegal experiments in time travel.’’
Daran Mien jumped on his feet at these words, a rare demonstration of excitement for a typical human of the 34th Century. Despite their highly advanced technology and social organization, the most charitable word a typical man from the 20th Century would have used to describe the citizens of the Global Council in general would have been ‘wimp’.
‘’By the stars! That would explain those space-time distortion waves. Those two scientists must have damaged the integrity of the historical timeline by their actions. Are you able to find out what they did exactly, Doctor Tolkonen?’’
‘’Not yet, unfortunately. I must first build a time travel machine, hopefully with the help of the notes left behind by our two scientists, before I could start to investigate what they did. Do I have your authorization for that, Administrator Mien?’’
‘’You have it, Doctor Tolkonen. As of today, your project has absolute priority over all other scientific projects. Find out what those two scientists did to the timeline, then report back to me.’’
‘’And once we will know, what then?’’
‘’We will see at that time. Good luck, Doctor Tolkonen!’’
15:38 (GMT)
Tuesday, September 17, 1940
St-Thomas Hospital, London
England
Doctor Charles Ramsay examined at length the X-ray photographs taken this morning of Nancy Laplante, unable to believe his eyes. The rib that had deflected a 7.92mm bullet barely eight days earlier and which had suffered a long fracture line was now apparently fully healed. Even more, the muscle mass in Laplante’s left leg, which had been seriously shred by the passage of a bullet through the upper leg, looked intact. According to his long medical experience, Ramsay would have expected Laplante to lose a significant portion of the muscle strength in her left leg. Another unexpected find was the fact that, despite her body having been peppered by dozens of pieces of shrapnel, not a single infected spot had developed. In truth, Nancy Laplante’s wounds should have forced her hospitalization for weeks and left her with permanent sequels. However, those same wounds were healing at an incredible rate and in a way he would never have realistically hoped for. The word ‘miracle’ came to his mind when he tried to find an explanation for all this.