This was all more than Ethan could comprehend. The process seemed to be so seamless, but trying to understand it was enough to make his head hurt.
Wallace began yammering again — something about high orbits versus low orbits, which over time can degrade. Ethan was still stewing with irritation and missed most of the monologue but forced himself back to the present after a few moments.
“Now, we encode the signal,” Wallace was saying, “and not only does it indicate the frequency, but your name shows up on the screen.” A few taps on the keyboard and there it was: the dot and the words ‘Ethan Tannor’ hovering next to it.
Seeing his name in pixilated form gave Ethan an idea. “Wait, I have a request.”
Wallace frowned over at him. “And what is that?”
“I’d like to use my middle name on this mission.”
An eyebrow arched, but Wallace didn’t ask for elaboration. “Fair enough.” His fingers made another series of inputs and the letters changed in a blink. ‘Blake Tannor’ now glowed on the screen.
Ethan heard Art’s words ringing in his ears,“It’s really amazing what they’re doing with computers and technology nowadays.” He shook his head. Buddy, you don’t know the half of it.
Wallace gripped his shoulder. “Okay, so this is the important part; we need to recap your mission.”
Ethan figured everything he’d heard since his arrival was ‘the important part’. This was feeling more and more like something from an episode of Mission: Impossible. Except he didn’t think Phelps and the crew ever did the Time Travel Tango.
“You must stop the Russians from obtaining the method to travel forward in time. We don’t know their numbers in Adelaide for sure, but from what I’ve been told there are three of them: two Russians and a Japanese man.”
“Terrible odds for me. Tobias will be there, won’t he? Perhaps I could use his assistance.”
Wallace made a funny noise in his throat then said firmly, “No.”
“So I’m alone in this — completely alone?”
“Continuity, Mr. Tannor. The normal timeline will need to be preserved at all costs and reset. This is based on Gilford’s String Theory.”
“Should I even bother asking what that is?”
“It is very complex, but in layman’s terms it states that you can alter small events in the past by creating knots in the string instead of cutting the line completely, as it were, without disrupting the larger flow of history.”
“And what if I mangle the history too much?”
“It would cause problems for us here,” Wallace said. “In the past you can devise a future that is not this one. I know it’s hard to grasp in such a short time, but you must understand the importance of limiting your exposure and be committed to this. Your main objective is to stop the Sons of Stalin from carrying out their plans. Your secondary objective is to make sure there are no other opportunities for the group to carry on. To that end, Dr. Amhurst must die as planned.”
Ethan blinked and took a step back. “Wait a minute. You never said anything about killing an innocent.”
“Amhurst is far from innocent. His actions are the main reason for the War. Would you say that a man who causes the deaths of millions is innocent? It would be better if he had never invented that infernal machine. But he already has, and we lack the capacity to travel far enough back to prevent its creation.”
“So how do I go about making sure he dies ‘as planned’?”
“You don’t even need to kill him — the Russians do that much for you. Just make sure you don’t intervene too early. There are several files in your baggage that detail all your objectives and targets. Prep yourself well.”
This mission was starting to fill up with guess work. “Maybe I should have done a crash course last night. Better yet, perhaps I should look at those files first.”
“There is far too much for just one night of reading, and we don’t have that kind of time. Plus, we needed you well rested.”
“Well thanks, ’cause I got loads of sleep after everything you told me,” Ethan said sarcastically.
“Regarding your main objective,” Wallace continued like Ethan had not even spoken; he was good at that. “You need to secure the meteorite and place it in a protected location where it will be safe for the next thirty-eight years.”
He did acknowledge Ethan’s puzzled look by holding up a finger to halt any questions. “You will put the rock into a safe-deposit box at this bank.” Wallace gave Ethan a slip of paper with the details. “That bank existed then and is still here today. Now, if you succeed in your mission, as soon as you’ve gone, the future timeline will change. Perhaps even without our awareness, our memories will change — and here is where it gets dicey.”
Just here? Isn’t this whole fucking mess dicey?
“As I said before, if you do change history, then in our present we won’t even know you’ve been sent back. Because technically, we will have never met.”
Ethan put a hand to his brow. “This hurts my brain even thinking about it.”
“That is the whole point of the tracking node,” Wallace said. “We may not remember sending you back, but that node transmitting a signal is the only proof that we did.”
“I feel like I’m going to be a needle in a haystack.” Ethan stared down at the paper with the bank information, then stuffed it in his pocket.
Something akin to sympathy flashed in Wallace’s eyes. “You will be; but we can find you, I promise. If you succeed in getting Amhurst’s rock into that deposit box, the meteorite should be in the Australian bank the instant you’re gone.”
“I still don’t think I’m following. If you forget that you sent me, how will you even know to check for the box?”
“There are ways to receive messages from the past without the aid of banks. You let me worry about that part.”
There it was again, the pacifying tone that quietly demanded obedience. Despite Ethan’s instinct that it would be foolish to place complete trust in this man, he found the opposite emotion battling for dominance. He told himself it was because he was about to jump down the rabbit hole; he needed something to tether to for support.
Right?
32
In the Heat of the Light
Ethan allowed himself to be guided into position in the middle of the large, round, elevated platform Wallace had dubbed ‘The Axiom’. He felt like a lamb being led to slaughter, but another part of him felt detached from the situation.
Was he really doing this? Or was all of it just a dream? He touched the tender spot where the tracker chip had been implanted. It was still sore, but now that the bleeding had stopped the skin was only a soft pink. No, not a dream.
Another random technician with limp brown hair and gray at the temples walked up onto the platform. He introduced himself as Ron and said that he would be hooking in the power source. He held a cord that was about as thick as a phone line and at its end was an inch long metal prong. Ron plugged the cord into a socket on the watch, then began inputting numbers into the timepiece from a slip of paper on his clipboard.
“What are those?” Ethan asked, but feared the explanation would cross way above his head.
“Coordinates.”
“You mean latitude and longitude?”
Ron nodded. “We can get a precise setting by inputting or marking a spot directly where you’re standing at any location. The watch itself has been programmed. The Earth is always moving, but we can transfer you to the exact spot we want, without the fear of sending you into outer space.”