Colonel Centuri pulled back the throttle, fell in next to the first biplane, and waved to the pilot.

“Wie geht’s, chump?” he yelled, tilting the wings of his time jet from side to side. Unable to hear him, the biplane pilot peered through wing struts, amazed by the colonel’s sleek jet. He swallowed hard, looped backward, and fell in behind the Z-84, firing several rounds from his synchronized machine gun.

“That’s so cute, don’t you think Betty? He’s shooting spitballs at us…”

“Targets 3 o’clock high. Targets 3 o’clock high,” Betty said.

The colonel looked at his cockpit display, lined up with the plane on his tail, and pressed a button on the flight stick. A purple laser beam fired from the tail of the Z-84, instantly disintegrating the plane and its pilot.

“Targets at 3 o’clock high. Targets at 3 o’clock high,” Betty said again.

“I heard you the first time, honey. Don’t repeat yourself, Betty!”

He banked left and moved to intercept the flight of biplanes hovering near a cumulus cloud.