A fifty-fifty chance.
If there was an option that gave better odds, he couldn’t think of it.
He lashed his beam across the ceiling.
He’d guessed right. The tank ruptured and ignited.
Thick flames cascaded down from above. The heat was furious, forcing him to back into the staircase. Attempting to lunge through such a wall of flame would give even someone protected by a crescent web serious burns. And the fire’s high temperature would play havoc with a Cohe beam, cause unpredictable gyrations.
An instant before he turned toward the steps, he saw Reemul on the other side of the fire. Rendered into quivering tongues of red-yellow fury by the intense heat barrier, the tways looked like a pair of ferocious devils.
Gillian pulled the door shut. Thruster blasts pounded against it but the portal held. He raced upward, toward the dim light above.
Part Four
Liberation
Sixty-Five
Bel stared out her condo window into the late afternoon smog. It was early April, the end of a brutal winter and more than three months since Humanity’s Avenger had reached its inglorious end. Although technically spring, there hadn’t yet been any signs to indicate a change of seasons. She had a gloomy feeling that the perennial arrival of growth and rejuvenation, something she’d taken pleasure from since childhood, might not come this year.
Perhaps not ever again.
Snow and cold hadn’t been the main culprits producing the harsh winter. Instead it was lingering bio poisons from coordinated Valentine’s Day terrorist attacks that had obliterated half a dozen cities around the world, including nearby Wilmington, Delaware, which continued to send its contaminants filtering through Philadelphia’s atmosphere. Numerous human terrorist groups had been fighting to take credit for the attacks, but no matter who was responsible, more than twenty million had died and the resulting ToFo levels were shattering all records. Most days in Philly it was recommended that outside exposure for those not wearing biohazard suits be limited to a maximum of two minutes per hour.
Bel was one of the luckier people who didn’t need to set foot on the street. Her limo shuttled her back and forth between the subterranean garages here at home and E-Tech. She hadn’t been outside since February fourteenth. She couldn’t help but feel sad when she thought of the multitudes without her options, especially those in the zoo who were suffering the brunt of the poisoning.
The world isn’t going to make it.
The overall levels of atmospheric lethality, whether through biological, chemical or radiological toxins – or some combination of the three – were growing worse, not just in Philly but in every city across the globe. Several of the respirazones were even struggling to maintain clean air.
Once last week, the thick haze beyond Bel’s condo window had briefly cleared, just enough for her to glimpse the apartment skyscraper down the block, the one with the greenhouse balcony. But either the owner had moved or had surrendered his or her horticultural passion. The beautiful roses and tulips were gone. Only withered stalks and vines remained, a ghostly residue of former glory.
“So, still not going to tell me what this is all about?” Nick asked.
Bel turned from the window as he emerged from the bathroom. She forced a smile.
“Like I said, it’s a surprise.”
“Did I ever tell you how much I hate surprises?”
And there’s a strong possibility you won’t like this one. But I believe it’s best for both of us.
She checked the time on the antique wall clock her parents had given her as a birthday present last month. It was 5:20 pm, and her other dinner guest, the one who would help her spring the surprise, was running late. He’d promised to be here by five. She was tempted to call him but then remembered back to the time they’d spent together that punctuality wasn’t his strong suit.
“OK, be like that,” Nick said, settling into the sofa. “But this mysterious person better be entertaining at least.” His crooked smile melted into a frown. “It’s not Gillian, is it?”
“Of course not.”
“That’s a relief.”
“I gather he’s not doing any better.”
“Not really.”
Gillian had taken the loss of the team hard. After the Boston debacle, he’d disappeared for nearly a month. Upon returning, he’d refused to tell them where he’d been or what he’d been doing. Since then, he’d been living out of a small condo trailer parked in a corner of Nick’s warehouse.
“He’s becoming more and more of a hermit,” Nick said. “Seldom leaves the warehouse. He still trains hard every day, a pretty severe workout regimen. The rest of the time he spends creating sims based on the videos from the tavern. I think he’s trying to figure out how he could have done it differently, how the team could have beaten Reemul.”
Bel wondered if that was even within the realm of the possible. The liege-killer seemed undefeatable. Gillian had barely managed to escape by taunting it, pushing it into an angry response. But she suspected that Reemul would learn from his error and not allow such a tactic to be used against him a second time.
“Any more talk from him about putting together a new team?” she asked.
Nick shook his head. “He’s given up on the idea. Although he’s still fixated on Reemul, something seems to be missing from him, some kind of spark. And frankly, Humanity’s Avenger served its purpose, at least to whatever degree was possible. It gave people a boost at a time when they desperately needed a bit of optimism. But now… well, I think we both realize it’s time to move on.”
Move on, she thought. Which is exactly what’s going to happen here this evening.
“It sounds like Gillian is suffering from depression,” she said. According to the psych community, the diagnosis today could be applied to more than three quarters of the world’s population. The growing threat of Armageddon was not conducive to mental health.
Nick shrugged. “Maybe it is depression. Or what passes for it in a tway who doesn’t know he’s a tway.”
“Is he still talking about going into stasis?”
“Yeah. And sounding more serious about it by the day.”
“Are you still thinking of joining him?”
She asked the question with as casual a tone as she could muster, turning away to avoid Nick seeing her pained look. There was still a part of her – albeit a shrinking part – that longed for him to come up behind her and caress her shoulders, something he used to do often. That part of her wanted him to whisper in her ear that he wasn’t considering another bout of stasis, that he’d come to realize that escaping into an unknowable future was not the way to deal with his troubles, whether personal or involving the fate of the world.
They’d continued to sleep together over these past months. But the intimate touches that once had been a staple of their relationship had grown fewer and farther between. Bel had come to realize that they were just going through the motions. The tender warmth that once had bound them together was suffering a slow death.
She turned around. Nick hadn’t moved from the sofa. Her question about whether he was considering stasis remained suspended in the space between them, unanswered. In its own way, it had become as lethal a topic as the B word had been.
The front door pinged.
Bel was surprised at the image on the doorscreen. She hadn’t seen her former boyfriend in well over a year and he’d changed dramatically. Once possessing a lean and angular face to match his slim figure, his countenance was now round and rouged and delicately feminine, with short auburn hair parted into bangs. Although elements of his prototype male persona seemed to be recognizable in those gray-green eyes, the aquamarine shawl, white pleated skirt and stiletto heels left no doubt as to which sex he was currently occupying.
She opened the door and greeted him with a hug. “Upton. So good of you to come.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He’d changed his voice as well, settling for a tonal mix halfw
ay between masculine and feminine. It was a choice favored by a large percentage of gender vacationers.
“Upton DeJesus, I’d like you to meet my friend Nicholas Guerra.”
Nick rose from the sofa as Upton approached. They shook hands. Upton smiled.
“Any friend of Annabel’s is a… well, I’m sure you know the rest of the adage.”
“Heard it a few times,” Nick said.
Bel was pretty sure that Nick was surprised even though he had too great a control over his tells to reveal it. Nevertheless, throwing him a curve by inviting her ex to dinner was the first step in her plan. She wanted Nick a bit off balance, his emotions churning. Ideally, that would make him more susceptible to the radical ideas that with Upton’s help she’d be proposing.
At least that was the theory.
Upton spotted an open bottle of chardonnay on the table and poured himself a glass.
“Anyone else?” he asked.
“No thanks,” Bel said. Nick, who’d already consumed a glass, shook his head.
Upton took a sip of wine and faced Nick. “I suppose you know that Annabel and I were once, to put it in the words of an earlier generation, ‘an item.’”
“Together for nearly two years,” Bel added.
“Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“We had our issues. And then you announced you were going on a gender vacation. That was the final leak in the hull that ended up sinking our ship.”
Upton shrugged. “I needed a change. Genvac felt right.”
“I’m sure. It’s just that I wasn’t cut out to deal with your hobby.”
“A hobby is building scale models of the Colonies or collecting reading materials made from processed dead trees. My needs were more fundamental.”
“Point taken.”
Nick shook his head. “I can see having a one-time sex change to match your true persona. But bouncing back and forth between male and female? Frankly, I just don’t get the allure.”
“Obviously, it’s not for everyone,” Upton said. “But I have to say, experiencing the world from alternating perspectives can be incredibly clarifying.”
“How often do you change sexes?”
“I’ve gendersnapped five times in the last year and a half.”
“The whole thing sounds painful.”
“Some temporary discomfort but not really as bad as you might imagine. The surgery is very fast. It boils down to simple addition and subtraction. Attach this, remove that, a little tuck here, a little fold there.”
“Don’t think I could handle the removal part.”
Upton laughed. The drudge slipped quietly into the room from the kitchen, finger-flashed a holo message that dinner was ready.
Bel directed the conversation during the meal, keeping it away from the real purpose of the evening for the sake of digestion. Stronger emotions were likely to be awakened as the plan came to fruition. Instead, they discussed Upton’s recent trip to Belize, the latest scandal to hit the world of skyboard soccer and the rumors about the remaining three Ash Ock Paratwa. Supposedly, the Royal Caste had been wiped out in the Valentine’s Day attacks. Nick expressed mild doubt but Upton seemed convinced.
“The Super Paratwa must have been in one or more of those poisoned cities,” he declared. “The newsphere experts who track this sort of thing have been adamant on that point. Every report indicates that there have been no traces of their behind the scenes manipulations, not to mention far less violence by the rest of the assassins since February fourteenth14th. It’s obvious the Paratwa have been rendered leaderless. Even more telling is that the various bounties the Ash Ock have been offering for the heads of their enemies have all been withdrawn.”
Bel nodded in agreement, keeping her real opinion to herself. She and Nick had discussed the matter in depth and had concluded it was more likely that with the world almost certainly plunging toward an apocalypse – the Ash Ock plan from the beginning – the Royals had decided it was time to bow out. Using the Valentine’s Day devastation as cover, they’d likely gone into hiding along with many of their most loyal followers.
But at this juncture, she and Nick saw no need to join the small chorus of suspicious voices who insisted that the Royals were still alive. Humanity, in what might well be its final days, should at least be permitted to entertain the notion of one last triumph.
She shifted the conversation back to less ominous subjects as the drudge served dessert: crumb cake made with certified-organic respirazone raspberries. Afterwards, Bel ushered them to the living area and cracked open a bottle of WeBoys. She poured the vodka into a trio of large tumblers.
“I’m impressed,” Upton said, referring to the expensive offering. “But the size of these glasses… are you trying to get us all drunk?”
Just Nick, she mused. Or if not drunk, at least mellow enough to more readily accede to her plan.
Nick raised his tumbler in a silent toast and took a long swig. Bel gave Upton a subtle nod that it was time to shift the plan into high gear.
“So,” Upton began, settling into a lounger, “are you two ever going to go public? I have to say, I’m amazed you’ve kept your relationship secret for so long. I only found out a few days ago when Bel called to invite me to dinner.”
“Better this way,” Nick said, frowning at Bel for having revealed their affair to an outsider. “Considering her position at E-Tech.”
“But doesn’t all the sneaking around drive you crazy?” Upton asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to come out of the closet?”
“We’ve talked about it,” Bel admitted. “However, there are… complications.”
Nick took another gulp of WeBoys and turned away.
“Sorry,” Upton said. “I didn’t mean to pry. Anyway, I have some news of my own. I’m getting married. A wonderful woman. We met at a SATSI seminar last year.” He chuckled. “She’s comfortable with my hobby.”
“Congratulations,” Bel said, genuinely surprised. Her ex hadn’t mentioned his nuptials when she’d called him to outline her plan.
“I’ll be gendersnapping back to male for the wedding in July. By the way, you’re both invited.”
“We’d be delighted to come. Right, Nick?”
“I can’t commit to something that far ahead.”
Bel was secretly pleased by his answer. It fit into her scheme. She allowed annoyance to creep into her voice. “Have you already made other plans?”
Nick didn’t answer. She turned to Upton. “What I believe Nick is really saying is that, by then, it’s likely we’ll no longer be a couple. He’s considering going into long-term stasis.” She paused. “In fact, I think he already may have made up his mind but has been hesitant to break the news to me.”
Nick stared at her for a long moment. Finally he nodded, confirming her assumption.
She gulped her brandy to swallow a tinge of pain. That shrinking part of her that had held out hope was officially gone. Nick was leaving. Their relationship was over.
“I’m sorry to hear,” Upton offered.
Bel had known in her heart well before today that they’d likely reached the end. Neither of them had been willing to say it aloud, which is one of the reasons she’d invited Upton to dinner.
A downside of her affair with Nick was its clandestine nature. They couldn’t openly talk about it with others, elicit the kind of feedback and support enjoyed by those in more traditional relationships. The two of them formed a closed system, and that made it harder for them to be completely honest with one another. That fact plus inertia – bolstered by some pretty good sex – had kept them together this long.
By suddenly introducing a third person into the equation, she’d given Nick the opportunity to escape the echo chamber the two of them had become. And for the rest of her plan to work, it was better that he’d been the one to call it quits.
“Why stasis?” Upton prodded. “I mean, yes, that’s certainly one way to end a relationship. But I gather you have other reasons.”
“It’s complicated,” Nick muttered.
“Nick’s been dealing with a lot of guilt,” Bel explained. “A long time ago, some events occurred that put him in the unfortunate position of having to leave his wife and abandon his son.”
She steeled herself for an explosive reaction. She’d promised Nick not to reveal the nature of his relationship with Doctor Emanuel. Technically, she was adhering to that pledge. She wasn’t naming names. Still, Nick might be angry that she’d divulged this much.
She met his gaze. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind. No doubt the vodka was helping. Beyond that, however, she sensed that at least a part of him was relieved that those momentous secrets were finally being brought into the open.
They’d never talked freely about his guilt before but they both knew it was a driving force behind his going into stasis. Still, that was only part of his motivation, the personal side of things.
She didn’t dare mention his other reason to Upton. Nick feared that the Ash Ock and hordes of their loyal assassins had also put themselves into cryonic sleep. If so, both he and Gillian felt they might better serve the future. Their tentative scheme called for them to arrange to be awakened in response to a revived Paratwa threat, whether a decade, century or millennium from now.
On the surface it seemed a crazy plan. Yet Nick had taken such a dive into an unknown future once before. In a way that would forever remain alien to Bel’s way of thinking, he’d acquired a taste for it.
She wondered if he could have done it had his son still been alive. Doctor Emanuel’s speech where he’d criticized those who chose stasis to escape their troubles echoed in her mind.
The future is a precious gift, an opportunity to overcome the limitations of our pasts and presents. It is not a recreational drug, a thing to be consumed in order to evade the responsibilities or problems affecting us in the here and now.
Was Nick electing stasis sleep primarily for the selfish reasons his son had alluded to, specifically to escape guilt? Or was the dominant factor underlying his choice the more noble one, his quest to stop the Ash Ock from steamrolling humanity?
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