Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 85

Five Days, Five Hours, Forty Minutes

"What do you suppose they're talking about?"

Parker lifted his eyes from the blueprints and glanced over to where President Campbell and Director Talmadge were conversing, on the far side of the room, in hushed tones.

"At this point," he told Michelson, "your guess is as good as mine. Maybe they're comparing golf handicaps."

They laughed. Michelson rifled through the latest stack of intelligence briefings he had become interested in, and he asked, "What are the odds, Frank?"

"Odds?"

"On all of this," he explained.

"You lost me, pal."

He threw aside the first few documents – how was drug-running in Cuba related to any of this? "You and me. Your timeline, my timeline. Actually converging."

"They haven't converged," Parker replied. "They're just … parallel. I think that's what Larnord told me. They're similar. I guess they were similar enough for the Mallathorn to make this … to make all of this … happen … or un-happen." He sighed. "I get a headache just thinking about it."

"I've gone beyond headaches," the man countered. "I think I've developed a full-blown tumor."

"Time travel will do that to you, buddy."

"Tell me about it."

"Oh," Parker smiled. "That's right. You know all about that stuff."

"At least, we have that in common."

"We sure do."

"And Olga."

He stopped what he was doing, and Parker glanced over at the other chrononaut. He didn't see the hate, the frustration, the disbelief in his eyes – the expressions he had seen when they first met, when Parker had explained what he was doing here those many hours ago at NeverNeverLand. What was it, that glimmer flickering from the man's eyes? Could it be respect?

"Look, Channing, I've already told you. I'm only here on vacation. I'm not making this place my home. There is one too many Spheres to my liking, no insult intended."

"I don't think she ever got over you."

He shrugged. "Death is never easy."

"That isn't it," Michelson answered, "and you know it. Olga? She's seen more than her fair share of death with the Backstep Program. As you know, there were other chrononauts before you and me. There were plenty of pre-program test subjects, too, who died in the early efforts to construct the Sphere from the alien technology. She's seen the deaths. In the early days, she was one of the only doctors on staff, so I can only imagine that she saw more than her fair share of it. Also, in this timeline, she was involved in the earliest cases of temporal contamination. She still … well, the last time we talked about it, she told me that those events still caused her nightmares."

Parker realized that he hadn't given serious thought to the simple risk he posed every other person – those lacking the required inoculation – in the timeline. He wondered how many innocents had died from another Frank Parker showing up here. He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard with his thumb and fingers. "I didn't know that."

"There's a lot about her that's changed, since your death," Michelson admitted. "She's still much the same woman, though. Losing you … the way it happened … so public a tragedy for so secret a program … I don't think she ever really can to grips with that."

He knew he had to say something. Parker knew that the chrononaut wanted to hear some magic phrase or reasonably compelling statement, but he couldn't figure out what was appropriate.

"Channing," he tried, "I don't know how it was between Olga and me in this timeline. Where I come from, we never really connected. Sure, we had moments. We had some … spark, I guess you could call it. There may've been some heat." He chuckled. "There were certainly some heated discussions."

"I have those, too."

"I'll bet you do … seeing as how serious you are about her … and how serious she is about you," Parker continued. "Olga's the kind of woman that, if I had her heart, I'd tell you it was worth dying for." He smiled. "But I don't have her heart. You do. It's all in your hands. Let's just hope that that whole dying for her thing doesn't come to pass."

They heard the clipping of footsteps and looked up. The President walked over with Talmadge in tow. Their expressions were grim.

"What is it?" Parker asked. "What's going on?"

"Gentlemen," Campbell announced, "we need to have a slight change in plans."

"What does that mean?"

"Chief Stoddard has spoken with the members of the Cabinet, and they're in agreement that … our best alternative at this point may very well to be to have Channing flown back to NeverNeverLand in the event that a Backstep becomes absolutely necessary."

"Now, wait just a damn minute!" Parker snapped, rising to his feet from the floor.

"Take it easy, Frank," Talmadge offered.

"Take it easy?" he asked. "You want me to take it easy, then you should tell these Washington pinheads who work for the President what a crazy suggestion they've made!"

"I hired those pinheads, Frank, because I trust their advice," Campbell tried. "It doesn't mean I agree with it."

"Then be the President!" Parker argued. "Stand up to them! Tell them that a Backstep is out of the question!"

"We're looking at a small scale Armageddon right now," the commander-in-chief explained. "We've had three attacks. One in Alaska. One in the Persian Gulf. One in Italy. What's next, Frank? We don't know. We're really no closer to knowing where Pendley's base of operations is. We have idea of his full capabilities. We have no idea of when he could strike next. The way the Cabinet sees it is sending Channing back now – two days after your arrival – gives us plenty of time to stop these events from being set into play."

"How can you possibly know that?" Parker insisted. "I've been to see the Mallathorn! I've told you what he told me! Have you forgotten? He said that he's reordered the events of your timeline! Instead of C following B and B following A, you have no way to know what order these events were supposed to occur!" Appealing to the director, he said, "Bradley, tell them what a bad idea this is!"

"Frank, what do you want me to say?"

"Say something!"

Calmly, Talmadge placed his hands in his pockets. "I tend to agree with the Cabinet on this one, Frank."

Parker threw his hands up in the air.

"Now hear me out," the man continued. "I'm not saying that I agree on whether a Backstep should be attempted so quickly. Like you, I think it prudent that we spend more time following up on these possible scenarios you've talked about. Let's learn what we can about the Heston. Let's continue to review the intelligence reports on the senator and Richard DeMarco. Let's do the standard mission preparations that we do on every Backstep." Nodding, he added, "But, if a Backstep becomes necessary – and I do mean 'if' – then we'd be better suited to have one of you back in Nevada now as opposed to waiting up until the last possible second."

"Bradley, we've talked about this!" the chronoaut pressed. "Yes, you've done Backsteps before, but, in the past, these missions have all been entirely independent! They haven't relied on other Backsteps! What they're suggesting is a time trip within a time trip when we already know that the proper flow of events has been corrupted by Larnord! That's … that's just suicide!"

"Frank," the President interjected. "I'm sorry. I've made my decision. Channing is to leave immediately. We have an aircraft standing by."

Turning to the man, Parker said, "Refuse."

"What?"

"Refuse, Channing," he repeated. "Tell them that you won't do it."

"Frank, I …"

"Channing, you're the only other person on this Earth who can possibly understand what the risk is they're suggesting."

"They're not calling for a Backstep, Frank," Michelson offered politely. "They only want to be prepared."

"For what?" he yelled. "If I can't stop this? How can I stop something that has no beginning?"

"It'll be all right," the young man insisted.

"Tell them that you won't do it!"

"Frank!"

Reaching up, Michelson slapped his counterpart across the cheek. Parker held his skin, and he felt the warmth surging up his neck and across his ear. He clenched his teeth together hard. He wanted to strike out, to lash out, to hit the man as hard as he could, to incapacitate him, to make another temporal mission impossible for the time being … but he couldn't.

"Look," Michelson tried, speaking softly, "you know that I agree with you. You know that I'm on your side, Frank. Maybe you needed me to say that. Well, let me tell you that it's the truth. You're right, Frank. But I have my orders, and I have to follow them. I don't want to do this. I don't want to risk the fabric of this timeline by risking another trip. You're right about that. I don't think it's a safe option … but I have to go. I have to get back there and prepare. It's my job. If the roles were reversed, then you'd be doing exactly what I'm doing." Leaning forward, he placed his hand on Parker's shoulder. "Do whatever you need to do, Frank, to keep this from happening. Stop it. Stop Pendley. Stop DeMarco. Stop these acts of terror. Stop all of it so that I won't have to take this trip."

With a whjsper, he added, "Don't do it for me. Do it for Olga."

END of Chapter 85