Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 48

Five Days, Thirteen Hours

"Mr. President, the red phone is ringing," Stoddard announced toward the intercom from his chair at the conference table. He glanced up briefly into the pensive, studied eyes of Isaac Mentnor – the Chief of Staff had specifically requested that the scientist be present for the conference call. The older man nodded succinctly as if he knew what thoughts were swirling in the chief's head.

"I'm ready, Ethan."

"Yes, sir."

His hand steady, the chief reached out and tapped the intercom button on the priority telephone.

"I'm here, Senator Pendley."

"Very good," the elder statesman said through the receiver. "Might it be safe for me to assume that you are not alone for this call?"

"That's correct, sir. I have the President on the line."

"Hello, Arthur," Mentnor heard.

"Thank you for joining us, Mr. President."

"Whenever this nation is in peril, Arthur, I think you know me to be the type of leader who would be here."

"I assumed it was the expressed position of your Administration to refrain from negotiating with terrorists?"

Mentnor bit his cheek in anger. Despite his strong feelings for pacifism, he wanted to reach out, to stretch his arms through the secure line, to strangle Arthur Pendley. What kind of a way was that to speak to the President of the United States? What kind of a method was this to defy every citizen's right to freedom by usurping control of the world's only remaining superpower away from the representative democracy? Even a law-abiding scientist had his limits, and the senator had to be stopped.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

The man shook his head at the sound of the chief snapping his fingers together. The two men locked eyes briefly, Stoddard gesturing at the laptop in front of Mentnor, and he clicked on the telephone tracing program. Of course, he wouldn't be foolish enough to even attempt to trace where Pendley was; after all, the man had not long ago visited the White House when he made his initial demands. Isaac wanted to know where the secure executive telephone line had been breached, and he was damned if he wasn't going to find out.

"Arthur," the President announced, "it's been the expressed position of this government and the preceding several Administrations not to negotiate with terrorists. The lessons of history have shown such an endeavor to be an exercise in futility. I've simple continued that policy. You know that."

Stoddard grimaced at the laughter coming over the open connection. "Yes, I do know that."

"I'm quite certain," the chief interrupted, "that you didn't call here to discuss a long-standing policy, senator."

"Of course not."

"Then let's have at it, shall we?"

"Tsk, tsk," Pendley replied quickly. "You needn't be so abrupt, Ethan. I've always admired your dedication to maintaining focus. I see no reason to be rude."

"If it's all the same to you, Arthur," the President negotiated, "I tend to side with Ethan. You're calling to discuss the progress we've made toward meeting your demands. Why don't we mutually agree to stick to the matter at hand and avoid any further attacks of a personal nature? You've made your superiority in this situation quite clear. You've taken the life of my son-in-law, you've killed Trace in nothing less an act of cold-blooded murder, something as heinous as has ever been perpetrated on any sitting president. As a result, I think you can understand my desire to avoid any sidebars. Let's keep this focused and objective."

Mentnor counted the ticks of the clock of pure silence. He wasn't certain how the senator would take such a vicious backlash, but he was glad to hear that the President wasn't going into this lightly.

"As you wish, Mr. President."

"Let me start by saying, for the record, that you can understand my hesitation to serve up the head of an emissary sent to us by an alien civilization whose intelligence vastly surpasses our own."

"I do, sir, but it was a demand, not a request."

"I don't care, Arthur. What matters is that we should stop this before it goes any further, before it goes so far astray that we can't come back to some level of mutual understanding. If you want to make demands, then I'll hear them as I have, but don't delude yourself for one moment by believing I'll accept your word for the truth. Look at your tactics! Look at what you've done! I find your behavior reckless, and, despite your position, it shows absolutely no regard whatsoever for the sanctity of life, not necessarily human."

"Of course, it didn't, sir. That was never my intent. It is, however, a means to an end."

"To what end, may I ask?"

"I've been perfectly clear that the BackStep Program should be discontinued, haven't I?"

"I believe your specific words were that this Administration was engaging in some kind of ... what was it ... some kind of 'temporal McCarthyism'?"

Again, Pendley laughed. Mentnor tried to drown out the effect it had on him by concentrating on the computer's screen. Several internal White House communications junctions were highlighted. The trace program was working. He wasn't sure how long it would take, but at least he knew that it was working.

"Yes, sir. I consider what we've been doing – trampling through time, altering the course of predetermined events – to be far more reprehensible than anything I've done. People are being denied their inalienable right to risk. You've removed it. You've sterilized the world for them, and, in doing so, you're irrevocably altered life to the point of sheer boredom."

"We've saved millions of lives, Arthur. We've saved Americans. We've saved citizens of every nation. We've stopped death and destruction in its tracks. I don't understand how this kind of benevolence can ever be interpreted as a bad thing for humanity."

"People die, Mr. President," the senator responded. "Birth and death are really the only constants in the universe. You can throw out the old adage applying to taxes because your Administration keeps rolling out one tax cut after another. Eventually, your vision of government won't be able to sustain itself. Eventually, there won't be a need for any vision because time – life, death, events – have become transitory under your policy. Don't be so naïve. The only measure humankind was ever intended was its own existence ... not one homogenized by men and women tinkering with remaking the fabric of the cosmos in their own image."

"We're saving lives, Arthur."

"Which was never our responsibility to begin with, sir."

"You're wrong."

"Am I?"

"Yes," the President insisted. "You are. We don't measure a life by markings on a tombstone, Arthur. We measure it by what we contribute in the time we're given between those dates."

"How prosaic. Be careful, Mr. President, or I might begin to suspect this is an election year."

"Arthur," Stoddard suddenly interrupted, "if you succeed in this plan of yours, do you honestly think you'll be remembered solely for having lived, or do you think you'll be remembered for doing what you did? For disassembling the BackStep Program? For remaking humanity in 'your' image?"

"Gentlemen," the senator stated, "I really have never entertained such juvenile notions of what history will make of me. Unlike the President, I'm not interested in any legacy. This isn't a venture for personal gain. Rather, I wish to see my contribution simply made because I believe it's right. I believe it's just. I believe it's necessary."

"But you've demanded the head of the Mallathorn, Arthur? How is that right? How is that just? How is that necessary?"

"Mr. President, the Mallathorn possesses the understanding of what makes time travel possible, and that is precisely why that creature's death is central to achieving this objective. You could surrender the entirety of the BackStep operations to me, but, if Larnord survives, who will stop you from simply creating another one? Who will stop you from simply sending a chrononaut back in time seven days before these events began in order to stop me from tipping the first domino? If you expect me to take your word for it, then you frame me as the bigger fool."

"Arthur," the President began, "be reasonable."

"Sir, would you cease the operations if I simply asked it?"

The computer pinged. Mentnor glanced at the connections – he had it! He had the source of the tap into the communications line. Once Stoddard sent a team to retrieve the tap, then the scientist might be able to make something of the technology, to trace it back to whoever on the staff placed it there ... and, then, they might be able to stop Pendley's quest.

"No. I wouldn't cancel BackStep if you asked."

"Then I must have the technology."

"Will you destroy it?"

"What does it matter?"

"I believe it matters a great deal."

"Do you believe – after all I've said – that I would use it?"

"Arthur, the lure of power is a road with many destinations."

"Mr. President, do you believe I would use it?"

"I believe you would."

"I give you my word."

"Your word means nothing," the man replied, "not when you're willing to extort this government to achieve your goals."

"I would suppose, then, that this telephone call does not matter."

"To the contrary, Arthur. I think this call is a beginning. Given the predicament, we have to start somewhere, and this will be our beginning ... if you'll let it be. When you started down this road, you knew this path wasn't going to be easy. You knew I wouldn't acquiesce without trying to show you what I believe are serious errors in judgment."

"I do not believe that it matters."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I assume by now that you are aware of the fact that I've taken control – limited control – of those military personnel assigned to FEMA."

"Yes, I am aware."

"And I assume that you are aware that I've send my own troops into the Pentagon to capture that alien, to kill the Mallathorn if absolutely necessary?"

"Yes, I am aware that the Pentagon installation has been raided, Arthur. But as you kept your word, as you've made this call to discuss your demands, I may also assume that you retain enough dignity to know that what you are doing and the manner in which you are doing it is wrong. I know you, Arthur. I've seen you serve this country, and I know that – despite what you may personally believe – you are not evil. You do not want to do this."

Mentnor studied Stoddard's expression. Sadly, the man shook his head. This wasn't going to turn out the way they had all hoped.

"Are there no dead at the Pentagon?"

"Some of our staff fell," the President agreed, "but they died in service to their country."

"Then you do know what I'm capable of?"

"I know that your men, thus far, have failed."

"I could use my weapon, sir, to destroy the entire Pentagon."

"But you have not, Arthur, because you still believe in this country. You may feel that we've strayed from the right path, but I know you. You're not about to bring down America."

"Those men will find Larnord," the senator insisted, "and they will bring it to me."

"And I give you my word that there are others who right now are working to stop you and to stop those men, Arthur. We will not stand idly by while you ..."

"Mr. President, do not play chess with me."

"I mean you no disrespect, Arthur."

At the end of the table, Mentnor watched as Chief Stoddard leaned forward, tired, burying his face in his hands.

"Will you surrender control of the BackStep Program to me?" Pendley demanded.

"No, I will not."

"Will you deliver me the head of that alien whose science has poisoned your soul?"

"No, I will not."

"Will you issue the Executive Order granting control of the Executive Branch to me?"

"No, I will not."

The line grew silent, as if the parties had suddenly disconnected. Mentnor knew that the call hadn't been a successful negotiation. He trusted the bad things would happen as a result.

"Then I must show you the price for your insolence, Mr. President."

"No one ever gave you that authority, Arthur. You took it yourself."

"I have taken it, sir, and I give you my word: you and the people you love so dearly will regret your refusal to meet my demands."

The line clicked dead.

"Ethan?"

The chief lowered his hands. "Yes, Mr. President?"

"The Cabinet is currently drawing up what they've termed to be strategic objectives and other points of national interest that might be in jeopardy of being struck by this weapon. Clearly, we're on a course for catastrophe right now, so there's significant concern over what, when, and how we release these details to the press. They're aware that there's been some sort of terrorist attack, and they understand that all transportation has been locked down ... but this could get very messy very quickly. Now, I'm not going to sugar-coat this for you. Given Pendley's position, I strongly feel that the most likely target is the White House. I can't risk you staying there any longer."

"But, sir, why don't we just have the Secret Service locate the senator and take him into custody?"

"There may not be time, Ethan. As it stands, there isn't a single one of us convinced over here that Pendley is even in direct control of the weapon. We can't agree that it's even on our soil. Pendley has traveled so much throughout the Middle East that there's a running theory the weapon is located somewhere overseas. He would need some kind of installation, and I have our best and brightest down in Langley working on where the senator may've diverted funds to have this structure built. We just don't know. Now, the Joint Chiefs are presently debating the strategy – along with the Attorney General – over what procedures we must follow in order to declare martial law should it become necessary."

"Mr. President ..."

"Ethan, there's no time to debate the merits of what I said to Pendley," the man declared. "I know that you may disagree, but we have no alternative. Giving a madman control over the fate of our planet was never on the table. This was never a matter of negotiation. This was always a matter of survival."

Slowly, the chief nodded. "Yes, sir. I understand."

"Tie up any loose ends you have to," the man ordered, "and you'll be hearing from me again within two hours."

"Yes, sir."

Mentnor sat in the silence for a long time trying to figure out what to say. He trusted that the chief needed to hear some encouraging words ... but what were there? Pendley had declared the entire Earth a target, and Ethan Stoddard sat by with nothing to say. What was there to say to soften that blow, to lessen that pain?

"Let me know how I may be of service to you, Mr. Stoddard," he offered and then left the conference room.

END of Chapter 48