The slow grinding of the elevator was anything but express service and the screech of mechanical gears raked on Ethan’s ears with merciless intent. Everyone else seemed unfazed by the irritant, standing like stone statues as the car made its slow progress toward their destination.
After what felt like eons the doors split apart revealing a large hanger-sized room that resembled Mission Control in Houston. “Ground Control to Major Tom,” Ethan muttered.
Ben gave a slight grin. “Indeed.”
Well, at least he knows David Bowie. It was a small comfort, but Ethan would take what he could.
Wallace said nothing further until they were all standing in front of a round grated iron structure. At its center, sitting in the middle of the elevated stage, were several large satellites. “This is the Axiom.” Wallace stretched out his hands like an emcee at the circus.
“How sweet, you’ve given it a name,” Ethan said. “And what does this Axiom do, exactly?”
“I’ll be laying down some heavy concepts, so please try to keep up. This is where we pull the massive amount of power needed from the facility to create a wormhole. Are you familiar with that word?” Wallace arched an eyebrow in question.
“Yes, Steven Hawking, I’ve heard of wormholes.”
The commandos around them made noises in the back of their throats, but Wallace ignored Ethan’s sarcasm. He indicated the thick black attachments at the base of the Axiom. “These cables carry the power generated by the nuclear reactor and with that massive energy source we’re able to plot a course of our choosing into the past up to — but not exceeding — forty years.”
“Why forty?”
“That seems to be the magic number. Nuclear power limits us to that span.”
“So you’re sending agents into the past to what — alter history?”
Wallace shook his head. “We don’t want to change things; we want to prevent them from being changed by the Sons of Stalin. If they’re successful, our future as we know it is gone. We need to intercept them in Adelaide, Australia — in the 1940s.”
“What happens in Australia?”
“A scientist who worked closely with Nikola Tesla is there. Together, they found a meteorite — but not just any meteorite. This one has phenomenal properties that allow for a different kind of time travel.”
“Different?” How long have these guys been playing leap frog through history? “Wouldn’t all time traveling be the same?”
“No, this object allows for time jumping into the future, which is much more dangerous than traveling backward.”
“And why is that?” Ethan glanced surreptitiously at the others, who stood around them in rigid formation with crossed arms and clenched fists. They appeared to be unfazed by such talk.
Wallace began pacing as he spoke. “The Red Hand wants this meteorite. The possibility of traveling forward to bring back technology that is not around today would give them monstrous supremacy. They would be unstoppable.” He came to a halt in front of Ethan. “We can’t allow this power into their hands.”
“Well, I can see how we don’t want that,” Ethan said, managing to sound sarcastic and serious at the same time.
Wallace turned to look at the Axiom. “We need to act quickly, so that we can rewrite history before it is written to our disadvantage.”
Rewrite history before it’s written? This was playing with his head. “So, this is why I’m here? To be your time traveling guinea pig? And how do I change this version of history?”
Wallace went to a computer station and picked up a piece of paper. “Imagine this is like time —”
Ethan held up a hand. “You know what? I have a shitty imagination so spare me the visuals. I’ll take you at your word. What happens to this time and place if someone shifts the timeline of the past?”
“This one,” Ben pointed to the carpet beneath his feet, “ceases to exist. And the new one continues on from the point of change.”
There was no way he’d be able to wrap his understanding around that one, so Ethan moved on to something more pertinent. “Why me?”
“Your qualifications, and you have no one to leave behind.” Wallace tossed the paper away, a disposable object. Like Ethan’s life.
Ethan gritted his teeth and stared at the floor. Why wouldn’t the man feel that way? Ethan didn’t have family anymore. He was alone, unconnected; except for Art, Mary and the kids, Ethan would not be missed.
“Let’s proceed below, Mr. Tannor,” Wallace was saying. “There is much more to discuss.”
30
Mission Plausible
The group split up, with most of the commandos heading in one direction, Wallace, Jackman, and Ethan in the other. Wallace led the way down a long corridor, to another elevator — this one slightly less noisy than the first — and from there, into an industrial-style office space not much smaller than the one Wallace had back in New York. The only notable difference was the absence of windows.
A desk was in the middle of the room like before, and atop the desk was a small square glass case. A watch was secured with metal pins inside the case. The timepiece looked almost like the one Ethan had found at Tobias’s, but there was something different about its metal construction. Ethan couldn’t place the distinction other than it looked older somehow, worn down by age.
Wallace opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out another cigar. Ethan watched him light up. Expensive habit.
Neither Jackman nor Wallace had spoken since the group went their separate ways. Jackman placed the briefcase he carried on the desk and assumed his usual aloof posture like a dutiful soldier.
Ethan couldn’t take the silence anymore. “What’s the deal?” he said. “You ‘Terminator’ me to 1948 — to Adelaide, Australia of all places — so I can take care of this Soviet agent and his buddies and preserve this rock. And after all that you just ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ back here?”
“Not quite,” Wallace said, looking almost regretful. “The drawback is that we don’t have a way of pulling you back through after you’ve been sent. You must stay there and live your life from then on.”
For some reason, Ethan had been expecting it would be like that. “So everything I have here is gone and I have to start over in a time where people are just recovering from two world wars?”
“That’s right, but this drawback has a perk,” Wallace said matter-of-factly — as if this ‘perk’ made destroying Ethan’s current life a perfectly reasonable option. “Both of your parents died in a car accident, correct?”
Ethan nodded, not surprised that Wallace knew the more vivid particulars of his life.
“Well, after you’ve dealt with this problem — and secured the meteorite in the process — then you are free to do what you can to see if you can fix that little detail in your history.” Wallace’s mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “And maybe you can give your future self a better childhood to look forward to?”
This was quite the piece of bait Ben dangled in front of Ethan, and it struck him like a sucker-punch to the gut. At first, he couldn’t even get his mind to comprehend the possibility of such a thing, let alone form coherent words. Still, too many questions loomed in his mind and he forced the sad memory of his parents to the side for now.
“This Abraham Bock guy; why not just wait it out and prevent him from becoming president? Wouldn’t that end this second civil war you speak of?”