The MP took a different tack. «You said you destroyed the supercollider. What did you mean by that?»
«The Gaultier-Ross Supercollider was filled with a Volzstrang Wave of immense power. I was in a capsule within the collider. The Wave tore the collider apart as it passed; but it was contained enough to send me — and the capsule — back in time. So yes, in a sense, I was the one who destroyed your Supercollider.»
The MP snorted out a breath when Bantam mentioned the word Volzstrang Wave. He didn't have much of a poker face.
«I am sorry," Bantam continued. «I did not mean to destroy government property. But I do think the cure for the Shadow ought to be recompense enough.»
«You say you're Bantam," the MP said. «Can you --»
«You took my DNA samples, fingerprints, hair, blood, fingernail shavings, God knows what else I don't even want to think about, before I left. Take them all again. They'll prove I'm the same man. Benjamin Bantam is not lying dead in a pile of rubble deep in the earth as Control probably thinks right about now. He's here, sitting here, right now in front of you. Take as much time as you like to verify this to your satisfaction. The only thing, the one thing, that I ask, is that you make the girl — her name is Sabine Portis, by the way — make Sabine comfortable while you verify this. She is the heir of a hero: her great-grandmother's notebook will save billions. Least you can do it treat her well. I brought her here so that she could experience the moment of delivering the notebook, as is her birthright. Let's make that a pleasant experience, hmm?»
The MP nodded. «Of course.»
«Oh. And take the notebook now. Copy it and get to work on an antidote, so that no time is wasted. Every moment we sit here, thousands more will die because of our delay, and there has already been too much suffering. And then it return it to her so that she may formally present it with a hero's welcome.»
OVER THE NEXT few hours, doctors poked and prodded Bantam. Blood samples were analyzed, x-rays were taken. Another device measured the amount of Volzstrang radiation had saturated Bantam's cells: if he'd really traveled back in time, he'd have a permanent background level forever marking in his very bones.
Then Bantam received a visitor he did not expect. When he appeared in the doorway, Bantam could not help but smile.
«Control," Bantam said. It was Dan Winston, the man on the microphone continuously in his ear during all the practice runs, simulations and the final mission itself.
Dan nodded. «So. They tell me it's really you. But there's one last test. My test.»
Bantam nodded. And then, realization flooded his mind. «Ah. Yes. You owe me dinner. Steak. At Mastro's. I'm going to collect you know … whether I can actually eat it or not, you're going to buy it.»
Dan's eyes popped in amazement. He stepped closer, scrutinizing Bantam's face for the first time, mere inches away. «No one else could know that but you. My God … where have you been all this time?»
«Hello Dan," Bantam said. «Yes it's me. I've been here, living in the shadows. Staying out of history's way. We made quite a mess of things when I went back, you know. But … well, let's just say someone else got it all back on track. She's the real hero of the story.»
«It must be quite a story," Dan said. «They're going to let me hear you tell it.»
«Tell it?»
«Yes. You're about to be debriefed. I told them I knew something only you and I knew — I could verify beyond all the medical tests whether you were really you or not. And they upped my clearance so I could hear whatever it is you have to tell us.»
«Oh! The notebook! Did they --»
«Yes! Yes, of course they did!» Dan said. «They're working on manufacturing the cure right now at the CDC. They're going to human trials immediately — there is no shortage of volunteers.»
«And Sabine. Where is Sabine?»
«Resting," Dan said. «She's been given a suite, she's not in a cell anymore. There's still a guard on her but her quarters have been significantly improved. She's fine.»
«It works," Bantam breathed. «I swear to you, the cure for the Shadow works. Those people will be well again!»
Dan nodded. «I believe you. Hell, I'll believe just about anything right now!»
«Well, if you're going to hear this tale, you're going to have to believe in a lot of impossible things … and I daresay a lot more than six before breakfast!»
AND SO Bantam told the tale in a large conference room to about thirty people. Sabine sat at his side, the original copy of the notebook with the cure for the Shadow in her hands. Most of the other attendees were Army, some were NSA and some were Homeland Security. There was a video feed that went out to God only knew who else — seven or eight cameras were training on Bantam as he spoke into multiple microphones.
He told the tale of an alternate world, where there was no electricity. A world where alternate technologies had arisen: some based on steam, others on material sciences far beyond anything in his own world, and still others based on gears and cogs and contraptions of every sort. The Helux gas that powered airships and flying growlers of every shape and size.
He told of how this world did not understand the Nazi threat until it was too late — and how he and his friends had been able to drive the Nazis back into the sea during the Pearl Harbor of this alternate world: the Great Clanker Battle of New York.
And he told of the lovely Rachelle Archenstone, his love, his heart … who had given her life to reverse the effects of the Volzstrang Wave and erase her own Nazi-infested timeline … restoring it to Bantam's own, where Germany had been defeated.
The shock on the faces of the officials in the room at the revelation that there had been some interim time when some of them had almost certainly been 'erased' was visible on their faces. Bantam could see that they feared this outcome almost as much as the Shadow itself. Worried muttering broke out whenever Bantam raised this subject — and his own guilt in accidentally creating 'unpeople'.
THERE WERE questions. Many questions. The session stretched on for nine hours or so. At one point, Bantam noticed that the Generals kept looking up at a mirror set into the near wall as he spoke. There were probably some CIA guys back there or something, Bantam thought. Or psychologists. Or psychiatrists. He could never recall which was the correct term. But they were probably watching him, analyzing his sanity, or whether he was senile, or whether he was even telling the full truth.
But Bantam did tell the truth. He was as truthful as he could be about absolutely everything. He omitted nothing.
When he was done, an older man in a suit rose. He introduced himself as Agent Kovington of Homeland Security. Buttoning his jacket and smoothing it out as he stood, he said, «That is quite a tale, Captain Bantam. Quite a tale indeed. And despite all the medical tests and the evidence you have provided here, I would still be hard pressed to believe it. It's just too whimsical, too impossible. I'd say you were not really being straight with us.»
Bantam glanced at the mirror, and a half second too late realizing Kovington had caught him doing so. He smirked slightly.
«I would say that," Kovington continued. «Except I've heard this exact same tale once before. And your tale corroborates the other equally ludicrous tale to such a degree that I can only conclude that this is the truth.»
Much of the room gasped, including Bantam. What --? What could that possibly mean?
Kovington spoke to the mirror. «You can come in now.»
Bantam's old heart thudded. Could it somehow … somehow be Rachelle? But no. She was here already in this timeline. An alternate version had died. There couldn't be two of her somehow, could there?
He hardly dared to think it. He pushed the hope aside.
In walked a small man with a lightbulb shaped bald head. He wore an outfit ridiculous in this timeline and place, but not in the age of aether from whence he came.