Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 58
Five Days, Eleven Hours, Five Minutes
Carefully, Parker leaned closer to the Mallathorn. "Are you sure you can do this?"
The alien nodded once, its tentacles dancing like a bunch of loose curly hair. "I believe I can, Frank."
"I don't want to hear say that you believe you can, Larry," the man told the thing from another star. "I need sure. I need to have some assurance – your assurance – that you can do this if this strategy is going to work."
Sounding confident, the being replied, "I give you my word."
"Your word?"
"Yes."
"All right," the man said, rising. "If that's the best you've got, then I'll take it."
"Thank you for your trust, Frank."
"Don't mention it, Larry."
The chrononaut waved at the nearby military aide.
"Open the door," he ordered.
Surprised, Bruce Hammett whirled around as he watched Frank Parker and the Mallathorn enter the Pentagon holding cell.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"We'd like to have a word with the colonel, if you don't mind."
Sitting in a chair behind a simple black table, Colonel Chamberlin sat watching the scene unfold. He had a single bruise on his left cheek under his eye, probably from a blow he had taken when Hammett's men overcame him and his aide in the Catacombs ... or maybe it was from one of the thousands of books Larnord had thrown in a telekinetic whirlwind at the assailant. In either case, it was an even mix of blue and red. The man kept his palms flat, pressed to the tabletop, as he studied the chrononaut and his companion.
"Absolutely not," Hammett replied. "This man is in federal custody, Parker, and I'm not about to turn the interrogation over to the two of you."
Jerking a thumb back in the direction he had come, Parker taunted, "Look, Hammett, I can get McGinty to override your resistance, if that's the way you'd rather have this play out."
"Play out?" the man tried. "Parker ... this isn't a game."
"I know it isn't a game, sir," the chrononaut replied. "In fact, I take this matter with complete seriousness. After all, the colonel was chasing me and my friends through the Pentagon with the expressed wishes of killing us, I imagine, and I wouldn't take that lightly."
The director of security took a few steps closer to the man, and he leaned up to Parker's ear. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
Parker grinned. "Why don't you take a step outside and listen? You might be surprised by what you hear?"
"Nothing physical?" Hammett orderd. "Violence is off-limits."
"Of course."
"If Chamberlin so much as bats an eyelash the wrong way," Hammett threatened, "I'll be in here faster than you can blink."
"You have my word."
Hesitantly, Hammett cleared the room of his men. Exiting, he closed the door soundly behind him.
"Colonel," Parker greeted the captive.
"Hello, Mr. Parker."
The two men stared at one another for a very long time. Finally, Parker said, "Say hello to my little friend ..."
"I've already met the Mallathorn," the military man interrupted roughly. "After it came to our planet, there was a ceremony to introduce him to the Washington elite. Given my position of prominence in the right circles, I attended the event."
"Then you're old friends?" Parker chimed.
"Hardly."
As comfortably as he could under the weight of the containment suit, Parker stepped forward, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Whew!" he said. "You can't imagine what a relief this is. The suit must weigh a ton."
"I imagine that it does."
"Yeah, you can take my word for it."
"I will."
"You know," Parker began, trying to sound conversational, "this suit really is more for your protection than it is for mine."
The colonel glanced up at the younger man. He gritted his teeth, biting back his reply, and relaxed his jaw. He let out a short breath and relaxed in the chair.
"See, if I'm not in this suit, then I'm leaking radiation ... a form of temporal radiation ... into the atmosphere, into my immediate environment. It's toxic, from what I've been told and from what I've seen, unless you've been either inoculated or cured from the exposure with a drug called Chronoticin." Raising an eyebrow, Parker asked, "Have you heard all about that, colonel?"
Not speaking, the man simply nodded.
"That's good."
Turning, Parker ordered, "Larry, lock the door."
The alien nodded.
The unmistakable click of the bolt latching could be heard throughout the room.
"Larry," he said, "make sure it doesn't open."
His attention now back on his one-time attacker, Parker said, "How do you like them apples, colonel?"
"You won't do anything," Chamberlin challenged.
"And why's that?"
"Because you're a hero."
"I'm a hero?"
"A decorated hero, at that."
"Really?"
"Yes," he tried. "The government has bestowed countless recognition on Frank Parker and the entire BackStep as a result of their bids to save mankind."
"Don't you like heroes, colonel?"
"It has nothing to do with liking them," the man argued. "It has everything to do with a policy this Administration has to rewrite history ... and that has to stop."
"Which brings us to why you came here and why you followed us deeper into the Pentagon, doesn't it, sir?"
Smiling nervously, the colonel shook his head. "You won't do it."
"I won't?"
"Of course, you won't."
"Do you believe in heroes, colonel?"
Parker reached up and flipped one of the seals on his helmet. Angrily, it clicked back, and a hiss of depressurized air sprayed into the air about the table.
The pounding on the door intensified.
"Let me tell you how I see things, sir," the chrononaut said, slowly lowering his hand to the table. "The way I see things, you came here – to the Pentagon – with a single goal in mind, and that goal was either to assassinate me or to assassinate Larry, my little Mallathorn friend over there."
"Hello, colonel," the alien piped.
"In the rush to do your master's bidding," Parker continued, "you placed at risk the lives of two more people – Dr. Nina Welles and an ordinary citizen, Mr. Ebdon Finkle. Those two I also call my friends. We've been through an awful lot together ... and I can't tell you how it pains me to learn that the United States government – your government – my government – would put two innocent people at risk."
The colonel was no longer staring at the other man's face. Now, he fixed his eyes on to the pressure seal of the containment suit about Parker's neck. He thought he could see the flow of air coming out of the suit, but he guessed he must've been imaging it.
"Colonel?"
"In any conflict," the man tried, "there are ... necessary casualties."
"Necessary casualties?" Parker asked. "Is that how you define ordinary citizens you've taken an oath to protect? Does that uniform you're wearing mean nothing to you, colonel?"
Quickly, Parker reached up and undid a second clasp. Again, the helmet jerked a bit as the force of escaping air pushed the bubble further apart from the main suit.
"That's enough," Chamberlin said.
"I'll decide when it's enough," the chrononaut snapped.
"You won't kill me."
"I may surprise you."
"You won't do it."
"So far as I'm concerned," Parker argued, "you don't even exist." He smiled at the military man who had grown nervous. He noticed the thin bead of sweat forming on the colonel's forehead. "Haven't you heard? This isn't even my timeline. Hell, I don't even know if there's a way back for me. Isn't that right, Larry?"
Derisively, Chamberlin stated, "I've no reason to fear you, Parker. Those men out there? They're already at the door. As soon as one of them pulls out his key, this whole deluded trick of yours is over."
"You think it's that simple, do you?"
"Yes, I do."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am."
Chuckling, Parker offered, "Colonel, do you think I'd be that stupid?"
Chamberlin sat up in his chair.
"Well, you said that you'd met the Mallathorn," the chrononaut agreed, "but it's sounding very much to me that you don't know the Mallathorn ... at least not the way I do." Pointing at the alien hovering off his left shoulder, he added, "That little guy there has some great control of objects. Tele- something or other."
"Telekinesis," Larnord explained.
"And what the means is that those men outside can stick as many keys as they like into that doorknob, colonel," Parker announced, "but it ain't gonna turn. Larry won't let it ... will ya, Larry?"
"I gave me my word that I wouldn't allow any other human to enter this room, Frank."
"That's a good boy."
Reaching out, Parker stroked the alien's tentacles as though he were scratching a dog's ear.
"Director Hammett!" Chamberlin finally shouting, losing his composure. "Hammett, you've got to help me!"
"Yell all you like," the chrononaut said innocently. "There's nothing he can do."
"DIRECTOR HAMMETT!"
"Colonel," Parker interrupted. "Really, don't behave this way. It's a disgrace to the uniform. No one's going to hurt you. Sure, the air in the room once I remove my helmet might kill you – in time – but that's a risk I'm willing to take."
The bead of sweat suddenly broke and ran down the colonel's forehead. It arched over his eyebrow and ran down the side of his nose.
"You won't do it."
"Colonel, I'm not even a resident of this timeline," he countered. "Will you please tell me how your world could even try me in a court of law for murder given the fact that – technically – I don't exist?"
"YOU WON'T DO IT!"
"I will do it, colonel," Parker replied softly, "unless you tell me exactly what I need to know."
The uniformed man shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Turning to the nearby two-way mirror, Parker yelled, "Get the recorders going, boys. I think you're going to hear what all of us need to know."
"What is it that you want?"
"Pendley," Parker stated. "You work for Senator Pendley, don't you?"
Curling back his lips as he bit down on them, the colonel finally said, "Yes, I do. The senator has commandeered personnel that he knows have been assigned to the working division of FEMA. We've been broken into cells, mostly. I don't know any of the members from other cells. I only know the group that I command, the group that was assigned here to the Pentagon."
"So you don't know who's in charge of the other cells?"
"I couldn't even tell you a single person assigned to any other cells," the colonel explained. "It's not an uncommon practice in order to maintain security and operational readiness in the event that one cell is compromised."
Parker nodded. "Do you know how many cells Pendley has under his command?"
"No."
"Colonel, you answered too quickly."
Disappointed with him, Chamberlin shook his head. "That I know ... the senator has two cells at his immediate command ... my group ... and he has a group working out of Bolling."
"Bolling? The Air Force?"
"Yes."
Curious, Parker asked, "Why would he want an air tactical unit?"
"I don't know."
"You aren't lying, are you?"
"I swear to you, Parker. That's all I know about his accomplices."
The younger man nodded. "Who were you sent to kill?"
His face hardened, the colonel slowly glanced over at the hovering alien.
"The senator wanted us to bring him the head of the Mallathorn," he stated without emotion. "Without the Mallathorn, the government would be unable to restart the entire BackStep program."
"What are you talking about?" Parker tried. "The government already has a Sphere. All they would have to do would be to step back in time and stop you from killing Larry."
"No," the colonel answered. "One of Pendley's demands to the White House was that all technology associated with the BackStep Project would be turned over to him ... for destruction."
"Why?"
The military man sighed heavily. "You have to understand that there's a group – a small but vocal group – that exists within the Washington elite. We don't support the government's use of BackStep to change the natural order of events."
"You don't support time travel," the chrononaut challenged, "in order to save lives?"
"We believed that the government was re-writing history," Chamberlin stated. "We believed that the government was, possibly, averting catastrophes that were written into destiny. These events had to happen in order for us to become the race of people that we were supposed to be."
"By who's design?"
"By our own," he said. "Mankind? Hell, Parker. We're our own worst enemy. Even Abe Lincoln knew that and said so over a century and one-half ago. If we weren't allowed to make our mistakes, we weren't becoming who we were meant to become. It isn't that hard to follow."
"But why allow people to die horribly when you can avert it?"
"Who says those people weren't supposed to die to begin with?"
"We should," Parker argued. "All of us should."
The older man slowly shook his head. "Spoken like a true member of the BackStep Project."
"No," he challenged. "That was spoken like a true, compassionate human being." He leaned forward. "It's our responsibility to stop suffering when we have the power to do it, Chamberlin, not when some Washington politician gets the idea for the purpose of getting re-elected. BackStep was never used to change the course of human history. It was used to save lives. It was used to save existence. It was used to end suffering ... not to give anyone some political edge."
"Maybe not today," the colonel challenged, "but ... were it allowed to go on ... someone undoubtedly would have, Parker." The man rolled his eyes. "Don't be so naïve! These are ... these are politicians we're talking about! At what point do they decide a BackStep is unnecessary? Do you think that President Campbell – if he were to lose the next election to office – wouldn't think about sending you back in time to change the outcome of the election? Of course, he would! Any politician would! That's what they do! They solidify their hold on power!" Bitterly, he added, "It was only a matter of time."
"Fine," Parker concluded. "You believe what you want to believe, colonel. I'll believe what I believe, and I believe that no President would use a BackStep for political purposes. That's the world I live in. That's the world I know." He pointed at the man. "But, if Pendley believed he could take the project from the government so easily, then I'm willing to guess that your attack on the Mallathorn isn't the only card he has up his sleeve! There are others who would like to get their hands on the BackStep module, and – if what you say about politicians is true – then Pendley must be in league with someone else."
"The Elders."
"What?"
"The Elders," Chamberlin repeated. "He's working on behalf of the Elders."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know."
"But you know he's working with them?"
"Yes, I do."
"How do you know it?"
"Because ... they contacted me."
Parker sat back in his chair. He studied the military man's expression, and he thought he saw more than just a few hints of disappointment in his tired expression.
"The Elders wanted to attack America," he said. "They contacted Pendley through his own network of global intelligence, and he's received a list of several targets – mutually exclusive targets – that would send another message of terror to the Americans." The colonel paused to lick his lips. "You have to understand ... these people want to bring the U.S. government to its knees, and they only way they can do it is through terror. If you thought September 11th was big, then imagine what they could do if they got their hands on Pendley's temporal ray gun. It would be ... complete annihilation of our country ... exactly what the terrorists want."
"Where is he operating out of?" the man demanded.
"I don't know."
"I don't believe you."
Reflexively, the chrononaut reached up and grabbed the last clasp on his protective suit's collar.
"If I pull this thing, colonel," he said, "you'll die."
"We all die."
"But our country?" Parker challenged. "It doesn't have to. You believe in that, too, once not too long ago. As a matter of fact, that's the only reason anyone puts on that uniform you're wearing."
"What do you know about me?" the man asked viciously.
"I know you were once a soldier, and a soldier believes it's his job to defend his country against any threat," he explained. "I believe – somewhere along the way – you lost sight of that goal. It isn't too late, colonel, to get it back."
Chamberlin leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was tired of all this. He was tired of the questions, of the fighting, of the penance he carried in his soul.
"I don't know where Pendley's base is," he finally said. "I only know that it's here ... somewhere in Washington ... and that's it."
"Where is he, colonel?"
"Parker," the man said, "if I knew ... I would tell you."
"On your honor?"
"On my honor."
Easily, Parker brought down the helmet, forcing the lip back into the metal groove. He fumbled around the neck, found the two lifted clasps, and he closed them, sealing the temporal radiation back inside.
"Welcome back to your country, colonel," he said.
END of Chapter 58
