Dispersion: Book Two of the Recursion Event Saga

by Brian J. Walton

  “He’s concerned,” I say, nodding at the soldier.

  “I don’t know, okay?” Vic whispers. “I haven’t spent a lot of time here. It’s a research Station. Not useful for traveling.”

  Another shudder rocks the building. This time the soldier outside the door stands at his desk. Vic jumps up, moving quickly across the room. I stand and follow him.

  “Who’s the Station Agent here?” Vic asks.

  The soldier stands and salutes. “Agent Suarez, but Colonel Andrews is on base today.”

  Vic pauses. “How long has Colonel Andrews been stationed here?”

  “Two months.”

  Can I see him.

  The soldier hesitates, then picks up his radio. “I’ll have to check.” He walks away and I hear the radios quack as he speaks into it.

  “Agents Carter and Agent Moore are here. They’ve asked to see the Colonel.”

  He turns, glancing back at us as he waits for an answer. There’s another tremor, this stronger than the others. The soldier looks up and I follow his gaze. Dust is falling from the concrete ceiling.

  “Does that happen often?” I ask.

  He glances back at me without comment. The radio squawks an unintelligible response. He turns back to us, setting the radio on his desk.

  “You’re going to have to wait.”

  Vic grunts. “Tell him we have information on the Interloper that was brought in yesterday.

  He turns away again, speaking into the radio.

  This time, the answer is immediate. The soldier listens, then sets the radio on the desk and beckons for us to follow.

  Vic leans over to me. “Sometimes, getting where you want is all about knowing the right names.

  The soldier stops at a reinforced door. He opens up a keypad and punches in a code. There’s a click and the door opens revealing a long low concrete tunnel lit with dim bulbs set into the wall ever dozen yards.

  The soldier gestures to what looks like a military version of a golf cart. He starts the cart and its small electric motor whirs, taking us down the long hallway.

  The curved hallway seems to go on forever. I picture a giant spiral descending deep into the earth, like the rings of Dante’s underground hell. After several minutes, we come to a large door. The first one we’ve seen. The soldier climbs. There’s another keypad on this door. The soldier taps in a code and the door clicks. He turns and waves us through.

  We enter into a low room crammed with computer displays and monitors. There’s a whole row of color monitors displaying a closed circuit security camera on the wall and most of the men in the room are gathered around it, watching them with intention. There are work stations scattered around the room with technicians behind them as well. I get a glimpse at one station and see what looks like a radar display. Taking in the room, I have a growing sensation of deja vu. Am I accessing this agent’s memory?

  I lean over to Vic. “Is it possible that I’m accessing this guy’s memories?”

  Vic shakes his head. “You can use the neural hijacker to do that, but it’s a separate function. We just did a straight takeover.”

  “Good to know,” I say with a shudder.

  I notice the soldier that had escorted us here across the room talking to a man that can only be Colonel Andrews. He sees us and walks quickly over. Vic salutes at the Colonel and I follow suit. The movement comes easily. Maybe I haven’t inherited the man’s memories, but there seems to be at least some muscle memory in place.

  “Agent Carter?” Colonel Andrews says in a surprisingly soft voice. I don’t know why, but I expected the growl of a drill sergeant. Too many films, I’m sure.

  He turns to Vic and I feel myself relax.

  “You had intel on the apprehended Interloper? I’m surprised to hear this. When you brought him in yesterday, you said there wasn’t any new information since the last briefing. What do you have?”

  “The kid we were on last night, were his friends picked up?”

  “We have them,” Andrews says. He glances over at the wall of monitors and my heart gives a little leap. All four of them are visible on one of the monitors, crammed into a small room. They are sitting on narrow benches, staring. Looking defeated.

  I scan the other monitors. in one of them, a man is being interrogated. In other, a young woman is being given a tray of food by someone that looks like a hospital orderly. And on another screen, a team of technicians scurry around a massive room filled with large machines. I take a step forward, trying to get a better look. The machines seem to be of various designs, but they all share a basic form. Each one has a large base with some kind of structure on top. One has two columns jutting straight up in the air. Another one is designed in the shape of a hoop. I realize with a start that the machine with two columns is on, and a shimmering wall of light is spread out like a sheet between the pillars. It looks a hell of a lot like a tunnel, but the kind of tunnel at Camton, or like the one that I went to. I remember Jane’s story. She had been dragged to that peak in the Austrian Alps where the Interlopers had set up a portable machine capable of making tunnels that could go anywhere. A cold realization hits me.

  The ISD is trying to make their own tunnels. They may have already succeeded. Does Vic know about this? He’s been surprised by a few things since we’ve arrived. Maybe this is another one of those ways the world has changed since the Recursion Event?

  “What’s the intel?” Andrews asked.

  His question shocks me back to the present.

  “They know about the Interloper, sir.”

  Andrews nods. “Sure, they started spouting off that nonsense the moment they knocked on our door. It’s the only reason we brought them in here instead of letting them scream themselves hoarse up top.”

  “Have you talked to them yet?” Vic asks.

  Andrews shakes his head. “No. They obviously know something thanks to Claymore’s boy. Which reminds me. Did you take care of him?”

  Vic hesitates. “There was an incident.”

  Andrews raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

  “The kid owed some debts,” I say. “It looks like some debt collectors thought he was skipping town, so they followed him up the mountain.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Andrews mutters, rubbing his chin. “What happened?”

  “Taken care of,” Vic says. “We had to cover our tracks, though. The fire department should already be there.”

  Andrews nods and turns back to the monitors.

  Vic takes a step forward until he is standing next to Andrews. “May I ask, sir, whether you are interrogating him?”

  “We’ve been at it for hours.” Andrews gestures to another one of the monitors. I follow his gaze and find a room with a man seated behind a table. He’s thin, mid-fifties maybe, with wild hair and shabby clothes. I would have assumed he was homeless if I saw him on the street. He’s wearing handcuffs that are bolted into the table. A man stands across the table from him. He’s not a soldier. He’s wearing jeans and dark sweatshirt. He must be an ISD agent.

  “Who is he, anyway?” Vic asks.

  “We haven’t been able to verify anything yet,” Andrews says.

  I step forward as well, joining them. “Do you think he’s really?” I trail off.

  “From the future?” Andrews asks. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

  Vic glances at me, narrowing his eyes. He seems surprised by this fact, and it makes me wonder how much Vic really knows about his own organization.

  “The kid really seemed to know a few things about the Interloper,” Vic says. “You really don’t want to talk to his friends?”

  “They couldn’t give us anything that we can’t get ourselves,” Andrews said.

  Vic presses. “I’d like to talk to them.”

  “What’s the rush?” Andrews says. “Let them sweat a few hours.”

  “Then let us talk to the Interloper,” I say.

  Andrews looks at me, surprised, and Vic shoots me an icy look.

  “Why?�
�

  “The kid gave us some very specific details about the Interloper. His name. What he wants. Let us go in there and see if those land with our friend, here. If we get a reaction, then let us spend some time talking to the kids.”

  Colonel Andrews thinks it over for a moment, then nods. He gets the attention of a nearby technician, a short man with glasses dark hair that is slicked back in a part. He’s wearing a white short-sleeve dress shirt and a black bowtie. He looks like he hasn’t left this room since the sixties. He probably hasn’t. “Get Agent Rom out of there, we’re going to send in some fresh blood.”

  I see Vic stiffen in my peripheral and his eyes dart back up to the security monitors.

  The technician speaks into his radio. On the security monitor, the ISD agent—Agent Rom—turns, his face becoming visible to the camera, and I feel myself grow suddenly cold. It’s Vic. He’s younger and doesn’t have a scar on his face. But the similarity is screamingly obvious.

  I hazard a glance at Vic. I can tell from the look on his face that he’s seen it as well.

  The technician's radio squawks and he waves for us to follow him. Vic and I follow the man back into the curved hallway. I notice that the cart we had ridden down here is gone. The soldier must have gone back to his post.

  I lean over to whisper into Vic’s ear. “Did you see what they’re building down here?” I ask.

  “I saw,” Vic whispers back. “But don’t forget the plan. We keep him busy. Then when Molly shows up and all hell breaks loose, I get that creep and Jane out of here.”

  The technician stops in front of the room. He looks up at the ceiling. I follow his gaze to see a security camera mounted on the wall. There’s a click and the door opens.

  Agent Victor Rom steps out. The other Vic, wearing a different agent’s body, steps aside to let him pass. I feel an electricity in the air, which reminds me of the Recursion Event that threw Jane from the early fifties to the late sixties. The building trembles around us again.

  “Agent Carter, the younger Vic says. And then to me, “Agent Moore.”

  I feel a thrill. He thinks I’m an ISD Agent. They all do.

  “And to what do I owe this pleasure?” The voice is soft and breathy. A large smile spreads across his gaunt face.

  I glance at Vic, waiting for him to take the lead. But he’s still turned toward the door, continuing to look at it even after it’s closed. He was surprised to see his younger self here. And Vic being surprised can never be good.

  I step forward and sit at the table. “Hello Phaedrus.”

  Phaedrus’ smile droops a little. “Finally,” he says. “They send me someone that is interesting to talk to.”

  Vic turns back around.

  “Have you gotten yet what you came here for?” I ask.

  “What is it you think I’m looking for?” He asks.

  I glance at Vic, but he only shrugs. My mind races to come up with a response. The Watergate trial comes to mind. What was Longdale saying about? He thought it was insane to break into your opponent’s headquarters. He had mentioned the conspiracy theory, that it was actually a distraction to cover up something else. Something bigger. I lean forward. “Opposition research?” I say.

  Phaedrus let’s out a sigh.

  I press on. “—is what most would assume, but I don’t think that’s what you’re doing.”

  “Oh?” Phaedrus asks.

  I pause, trying to find the right way to say it. “I think you’re exactly where you want to be.”

  “I am always exactly where I want to be,” Phaedrus says, with chilling sincerity.

  “You are, aren’t you?” Vic says, taking a step forward. “So why are you here?”

  I glance at Vic in annoyance, and Phaedrus does the same.

  “I would rather hear what your partner thinks the answer to that question is. He’s got quite the creative mind, it would seem.”

  I look down at my hands, realizing I am suddenly full of questions. About what could possibly be buried in Jane’s head that he could want so badly. About why Phaedrus was stuck, chasing her the way that he did. Almost like it was some kind of game. But that can’t be it. People don’t put themselves through hell for a game unless they're insane. And this man seems far too collected to be insane. He has a purpose and he came here tonight for a purpose. It’s not opposition research. That’s too simplistic. A cover-up then? But what is he covering up? He’s a complete unknown. From what I’ve gathered, this is the first contact that the ISD ever had with him.

  Something Colonel Andrews said comes back to mind.

  “From the future?” Andrew’s asked. “Wouldn’t be the first.”

  “You walked right in here” I say, “and with that simple act you turned yourself into the ISD’s number one target. But why? Nobody cared about you before now. No one even knew you existed. Or did we? Maybe I’m out of the loop. But no, I don’t think so. I think you wanted people to care about you. I think you wanted us to start hunting you. But again, that leads us back to why. You would only be here for three reasons. First, you want to be famous. But I don’t think that’s it. You can go wherever you want. Do whatever you want. You don’t need fame because it doesn’t give you anything you don’t already have. So what else? Maybe there’s information you need and it’s here. But we’re back to our other objections. You can go anywhere at anytime. That’s right, I know how people from your time get around. So… door number three. You’re trying to distract us from something. But from what? Not from anything you’ve done or will do. You’ve already shown how good you can be at staying hidden.” I shake my head. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”

  Another tremor shakes the building, this one larger than all the others, and it sends a tingling up my spine.

  “What then?” Phaedrus asks.

  I look over at Vic.

  He’s staring at me with—what? Is he actually impressed with me?

  “It’s us then. You want to distract us from ourselves.”

  “How very… creative” Phaedrus says, but there’s something in his tone of voice that I don’t like.

  Phaedrus leans back in his chair. “It’s like something from out of… I don’t know… the movies.”

  Shit.

  How could he be onto me? Me?

  I try to play it cool. “Phaedrus—that’s an interesting name,” I say.

  “Have you heard it before?” Phaedrus asks.

  “It’s from Greek philosophy,” I say. “One of Plato’s Dialogues. Is that right.”

  “Bright one,” he says. “Radiant one. Phaedrus was a lover of virtue, though he had to flee his own city. Did you know that we pick our own names where I come from, when we come of age.”

  I shake my head.

  “Not all of us get to pick our own names… Ellis Claymore.”

  A tremor runs through my body and into the depths of my soul. I hazard a glance at Vic. His eyes are fixed on Phaedrus and he seems somehow unfazed.

  Phaedrus closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ellis Claymore the third. What are you doing here, anyway? Not one of these ISD fools, despite the skin suit you're wearing.” He turns his head back and forth as if searching for the answer. “The third… Oh yes, you are interesting. So daddy helped make this impressive little box we’re in? But that’s not why you’re here. There’s a girl. Not a lover. Oh no. But someone else. Jane, is it? But Jane is not her name. Not, really. No, it’s…” His eyes snap up, and he fixes his gaze on me.

  “Molly.”

  He lets the syllables roll slowly off his tongue as he searches my face for an answer.

  “How are you doing that?” I ask. I turn to Vic and repeat my question. “How is he doing that?”

  Vic looks at me then glances toward the corner of the room where the security camera is installed. “You mean, how is he so good at spouting off nonsense?” Vic asks.

  I lean back in my chair, but Phaedrus leans forward, as if to match the distance between us.

  “Don’
t play with toys you don’t understand,” he says, his voice a small whisper. “You came in here thinking you had a mask on, but to me it’s a bullhorn.” Phaedrus closes his eyes and suddenly my mind explodes into a white hot pain. I struggle open them, but see only Phaedrus. He’s staring at me, his face stretched into a hideous grin.

  Vic grabs me by the arm, but he seems distant. Far away. “Come on,” Vic says. He stands and turns to the camera. “Guard!”

  Phaedrus leans forward grabbing my hand with his own. “You forgot one possibility,” Phaedrus says, his eyes narrowed.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “That I’ve been working with the ISD for nearly as long as the ISD has been in existence,” Phaedrus says.

  I glance at Vic. He frowns, shaking his head. “I’ve hunted your kind.”

  “Often, in wars of attrition, your greatest enemy becomes your strongest ally.”

  “We made no bargain with you,” Vic says. “You just walked in here.”

  “Yet,” Phaedrus says, his voice flat. “The bargain comes later. The fruit of it came first. Your people begged for the technology and I gave it to them. So they’ve received it before they even asked. But… yes, I suppose you don’t know that yet. They’ve managed to keep that as their secret. But the bargain was made. In return, I just need one person. That’s all.”

  Vic rises to his feet. “What’s in her head that you want?”

  “Ah,” Phaedrus’ eyes widen. “We’ve had this conversation before? Well, maybe this time will be a little more enlightening. The little robots you put in your head, she has them as well. We all do, in my time. But hers are guarded. Protected. You see, Molly carries in her head a way to—” He stops speaking for a moment and a tear rolls down his face. “A way to fix everything.” He leans forward, closing his eyes. “I see that you already know the world will die. Is already dying. And your people do nothing to stop it. In my time, they take a different approach. Two ways. Flee to the past like cowards, or restore the world. It would be a risk, and lives would be lost. But the world would be a better place. My people choose the coward’s path. But they couldn’t just let the secret die, so Molly’s father hid it in his daughter’s head sent her back like baby Moses through a river of time.” Phaedrus opens his eyes. “But now I have everything that I need. Thank you, Agent Rom, for giving me access to your mind.”