Chương 193: The Predictable Middleman (11/01/2015)

DATE: Sunday, November 1, 2015 LOCATION: The Sand Castle – Master Bedroom, Kitchen & Private Study LOCAL TIME: 06: 52 AM PST I woke to the sound of rain tapping against the glass. For several seconds I lay perfectly still, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that last night had been a dream. The Abyssal Node. The Sports Model. Lamech's voice. None of it could be real. Then the weight in my chest returned, cold and heavy.

Olga was still asleep beside me, one hand resting protectively over the curve of her belly. The baby — our Alex — kicked once, a small, determined flutter. I watched the movement beneath her skin and felt something inside me fracture a little more. He called me mediocre. The words echoed in the vault of my mind with perfect clarity.

"Your mind was thrown backward through that tear… because the Node found you too mediocre to remain in your own time." I almost laughed out loud. I knew I was a good actor. But I didn't realize I was such a good actor that I could convince a leaky alien gas station and my past life that I was mediocre and non-threatening. The idea that some ancient, dripping terminal thought it had the right to judge me was so absurd I almost found it funny.

I slipped out of bed without waking Olga, pulled on a robe, and walked to the window. The Pacific was gray and restless under the early November light. I heard small footsteps in the hallway. John appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, his hair sticking up in every direction like a tiny, exhausted dandelion.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"Can we have pancakes?" I looked at my five-year-old son — the boy who had asked me yesterday why Simba ate bugs with the meerkat — and felt the full, crushing weight of what I had to protect.

"Yeah, buddy," I said, keeping my voice steady.

"Pancakes sound perfect." Kitchen – 07: 18 AM The kitchen smelled of coffee and maple syrup. Elise was already at the table, swinging her legs and humming to herself. Olga came down a few minutes later, still in her robe, one hand on her lower back.

"You were up late again," she said softly, kissing my cheek.

"Couldn't sleep," I replied.

"Work stuff." She studied me for a moment, then nodded. She knew better than to push when I used that tone. As I flipped pancakes, John took a serious tone, pointing his syrup-covered fork at me.

"Dad," he said, "supervillains working with the Riddler makes zero sense."

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" I asked, sliding a fresh pancake onto his plate.

"Because he's the Riddler," John said, exasperated.

"He'd just tell the superheroes their plans in a crazy riddle. He can't help it! The Joker would get so mad."

"True," I said, leaning against the counter.

"But think about it from a tactical perspective. What's the one thing superheroes always do when the Riddler leaves a clue?" John frowned, thinking hard.

"They go solve it."

"Exactly. They believe it immediately and act on it, no matter how ridiculous it is," I pointed out.

"If the villains were actually smart, they wouldn't get mad at him. They'd feed him false plans. Let him riddle the superheroes right into a trap." John's eyes widened, his fork freezing in mid-air.

"Whoa. That's... really smart, Dad." I couldn't help but smile, ruffling his hair as I walked past.

"Never underestimate the value of a predictable middleman, buddy." This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I felt the familiar pull between two worlds — the warm, messy life I had built here, and the cold, ancient war waiting for me. After breakfast, I kissed Olga and the kids goodbye and told them I had some calls to make. Then I went to my private study. Private Study – 08: 47 AM The secure line was already blinking when I sat down.

I picked up the receiver.

"Tillman."

"Mr. Tillman, this is National Security Advisor Robert Ellison. I'm calling on behalf of the President." I leaned back in my chair, already sensing the shape of the trap.

"Go ahead."

"The White House would like to formally offer you the position of United States Ambassador to Libya. Effective immediately, pending Senate confirmation. Your brother's support in the chamber should make that a formality." I let the silence stretch.

"May I ask why me?" Ellison's tone shifted — still polite, but with an edge.

"Because your brother has been very vocal about expanding American influence in North Africa. And because the President believes pairing Senator Tillman's political capital with your family's technology is the fastest way to establish Project Ley Lines in Libya before the Chinese or Russians get there first." I kept my voice even.

"So this isn't really about diplomacy. It's about using my brother's name and my family's company as leverage." Another pause. Longer this time.

"Mr. Tillman," Ellison said quietly, "the President asked me to be direct. We need someone we can trust in that region. Someone who isn't afraid to play hard. You have an impressive career. That makes you valuable. But it also makes certain people… curious about how much influence you actually hold behind the scenes." I felt my jaw tighten. The way he said it told me he knew more than he should.

"Is that a threat or a compliment?"

"Both," Ellison replied.

"The appointment is yours if you want it. But the President would prefer you accept. For everyone's sake." I stared out the rain-streaked window.

"I'll get back to you by end of day," I said, and hung up. I picked up the phone again and dialed a different number.

"Chase," I said when my brother answered.

"We need to talk. Now." DATE: Sunday, November 1, 2015 LOCATION: The Sand Castle – Private Study / Washington D. C. (via secure line) LOCAL TIME: 08: 52 AM PST / 11: 52 AM EST I didn't even wait for the usual pleasantries.

"Chase, I just got the call from Ellison. Ambassador to Libya. They're using your name to sell it. What's really going on?" My brother's voice came through the secure line, smooth but with a hint of tension.

"Chad. I didn't ask them to do this, but I didn't fight it either. The country is sliding toward civil war, and the Chinese are already moving in. The President believes we need to get Project Ley Lines into Libya fast." I leaned back in my chair.

"So it's about locking up the region."

"Exactly. You've spent your whole life staying in the background. You've built an incredible amount of quiet influence without ever seeking the spotlight. That makes you valuable. The President knows it. So do I." I was quiet for a moment.

"I don't have a problem helping you, Chase. You know that. But Ellison was hinting that certain people in Washington are starting to notice how much influence I actually hold. That makes me nervous." Chase sighed.

"I won't lie to you. There are people who've started asking questions. The President's people aren't stupid. They know you're more than just a data analyst." I rubbed my jaw.

"So this is about Washington trying to pull me into the light while using you as the leash." Chase's voice softened.

"Chad… I'm trying to give you a seat at the table before someone else decides you don't get one. Libya is a powder keg right now. If we don't stabilize it, millions could die. You want to sit on the sidelines while that happens?" I stared out at the gray Pacific.

"Give me twenty-four hours," I said finally.

"Fair enough," Chase replied.

"But the window is closing."

"I know. I'll call you tomorrow." I hung up. The Node wanted to erase me. Lamech wanted to use me. The White House wanted to pull me into a country on the verge of civil war. Whatever I decided, I was going to do it for Chase. DATE: Monday, January 4, 2016 LOCATION: Fractal Systems Executive Conference Room (via Silver Chord) / Benghazi, Libya LOCAL TIME: 10: 00 AM PST / 8: 00 PM EET The virtual conference room materialized around me with perfect clarity.

I sat at the head of the obsidian table, my avatar dressed in a dark suit. Around the table were Elon Musk, Wozniak, several senior directors — and two new faces: Bob Lazar and Brad Sorenson. Elon was already speaking.

"…the Abyssal Node is stable, and we've begun extracting the first batches of Element 115. As for the Black Knight satellite…" He tapped the table, bringing up a holographic model.

"…it's no longer in a decaying orbit. It's currently in the asteroid belt, proceeding with the Venusian Moon project." Bob Lazar leaned forward.

"On the Sports Model front, we've made significant progress. But the third gravity amplifier is still locked down." Brad Sorenson nodded in agreement.

"We believe it requires a full neural interface to unlock. The craft is responding to thought commands, but only in very limited ways. It's waiting for the right operator." A voice from the far end of the table addressed me directly.

"Ambassador Tillman, you've been unusually quiet. Where exactly are you joining us from today?" I allowed a small smile to appear on my avatar's face.

"I'm in Benghazi. The Turkish Ambassador requested an in-person meeting at the Special Mission Compound." There was a brief silence. Elon raised an eyebrow.

"Benghazi? That's… bold, even for you."

"Necessary," I replied calmly.

"The Turkish government wants assurances that Project Ley Lines will proceed regardless of who ends up in power. I'm here to remind them that Fractal Systems doesn't pick sides. We build infrastructure." Elon nodded slowly.

"Just be careful out there, Chad. The region is unstable enough without adding ancient alien politics into the mix."

"Yeah," I said.

"It is."