by C. J. Hill
Joseph fell in step beside her, rearranging calculations on his comlink. “They sent me to find you fifteen minutes ago. You might want to answer the messages on your comlink every once in a while, you know.”
Whatever he was working on, he clearly wanted to be here even less than she did. “You don’t have to translate for me anymore,” she said. “The council can understand me.” She’d practiced her accent enough that if she spoke slowly, she didn’t have problems.
“I’m not here as a translator.”
“Really? Why do they want to see you?”
He shrugged. “Probably my charm and good looks.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s probably it.” In truth, Joseph had enough of both. Taylor didn’t let herself dwell on Joseph’s looks though. A girl could get lost in his blue eyes, and that was something Taylor couldn’t afford to do. Because Joseph was dating Sheridan. Which was just Taylor’s luck. Joseph was the only guy she’d ever met who was as smart as she was, and he only had eyes for her twin sister.
Despite the fact that the hallway looked like it had been constructed out of blocks of white stone, Taylor’s footsteps made no sound against the floor. She fingered the badge around her neck. She still wasn’t used to having to wear it all the time. “Has the city council given you a decision about your work requests yet?”
“No.”
A hesitancy in Joseph’s voice made Taylor glance at him. He didn’t seem to be telling the truth, or at least not all of it.
Taylor hadn’t heard from the career department herself, but Sheridan had received a message on her comlink a week ago telling her she would be accepted into her choice of three of the city’s colleges. She was given a list of books to read and computer courses to complete in order to be caught up with the incoming students when the next term started.
Taylor had expected to be assigned to a research lab right away. But then, maybe the city council was nervous about turning her loose with equipment. The last thing she’d invented could be used to kill people. Or change time.
Joseph and Taylor were nearly to the chamber doors. “So what did I miss in the meeting?” she asked.
“They’re choosing who to put on the team to go to Traventon and destroy Reilly’s QGPs. President Mason said the mission required the best-trained men in the city—”
“Which turned the selection into an Olympic event,” Taylor finished for him. “So many sectors now want to send representatives, it will look like a parade is marching into the Scicenter.”
“Exactly. So President Mason delayed that decision, and the council started debating whether the team should also assassinate Reilly.”
Taylor inwardly groaned. That wasn’t going to be a quick discussion. Really, she never should have let President Mason know she had invented the QGP. Prestige aside, being an expert sucked.
Joseph held up his badge to the council chamber’s door scanner. A purple light swept over him, checking to make sure he was who his badge said he was; then the door slid open.
Taylor was supposed to do the same scanner check, but she followed Joseph inside instead. The room was almost completely filled by a huge, horseshoe shaped table, with about forty councilmen and councilwomen sitting around it. President Mason sat in a raised chair at the center of the curve. Screens hung on either side of his chair, used for showing video of whoever’s turn it was to talk. Judging by the way the delegates were all fervently jabbing at their speaker buttons, the meeting was going to drag on and on. Taylor sighed. She should have come an hour late instead of only forty-five minutes.
“Reilly has already built nine QGPs.” An older man with braided black hair spoke. His voice was slow but strong. “If Reilly gets even one of them to work, the Traventon government will need only the smallest amount of DNA to change a person into an energy flux wave. He’ll never reconfigure those waves, never give anyone a trial. If anything, he’ll use that energy to power more of his filthy inventions.”
“Reilly doesn’t have our DNA,” someone from the table called out. “Why should we risk our people to kill him?”
A few people slapped their hands on the table in agreement.
“He may have your DNA someday,” someone else called back. “And hiding will be nearly impossible. If a radio wave can find you—then so can the QGP’s grasp.”
Taylor followed Joseph toward a couple of empty seats in the experts’ section of the table.
“We have operatives in Traventon,” the old man said. “Are you willing to abandon them?” His dark eyes made a penetrating sweep around the table. “Have you forgotten the QGP could be modified to destroy large groups of people? It will be used on all of Traventon’s enemies. And we are their enemies.”
Even more table slapping followed this pronouncement.
The only empty seats in the experts’ section were next to Pascal Chavez, the head of the science department. Her peacock-colored hair was twisted into a bun today. She smiled patronizingly at Taylor. After Taylor had refused to give Pascal any technical information about the QGP beyond the details needed to destroy it, the woman had treated Taylor coldly. Taylor, Pascal insisted, was casting aspersions on her character by refusing to trust her.
Taylor didn’t care. Information about the QGP had already ended up in the wrong hands once. She wasn’t taking any more chances.
Pascal leaned toward Taylor. “Sister Bradford, you finally decided to come and honor our invitation.”
The citizens of Santa Fe addressed everyone except President Mason as either brother or sister. Being president apparently got you out of the family.
Taylor settled herself into her chair. “Yes, I did.”
Pascal let out a small huffing sound and turned away from Taylor as though talking to her wasn’t worth the effort.
A bowl of sugary nuts sat on the table in front of Taylor along with a glass of water. You knew a meeting was going to be too long when the council had to provide people sustenance just to get through it.
A man with a bushy beard was speaking now. He had on the usual clothes men in Santa Fe wore: long-sleeved tan shirts with colorful sashes that cut across their chests. The outfit had at first reminded Taylor of the sashes beauty-pageant queens wore, but after seeing them for three weeks, she liked them. Joseph looked particularly good in the blue ones he always wore. They brought out the color of his eyes.
Not that she let herself spend time thinking about him. Because once you got past his intelligence and good looks, Joseph wasn’t her type. Too reserved and quiet. Taylor needed someone who was more spontaneous, more fun. And, most importantly, someone who wasn’t dating Sheridan.
“Why send our people to destroy the QGPs,” the bushy-bearded man asked, raising his hand and shaking it for emphasis, “if Reilly can build more? He will build more, and he’ll find a way to keep us from destroying them next time.”
The screen flashed to an older woman with apricot-colored hair. “If killing is wrong when Reilly does it, then it is also wrong when we do it. I wouldn’t ask any of our team to murder someone. I wouldn’t lay that burden on their consciences.”
“Then don’t ask them,” the bushy-bearded man replied, even though he no longer had his speaker button lit. “I’ll ask for you.”
A round of table slapping erupted after that comment. When the noise faded, several people called out that they would not only ask, they would happily come along and do the job themselves.
President Mason tapped a lit square in front of him. “Delegates, please refrain from speaking unless you’re lit.” President Mason was a middle-aged man with kind brown eyes and too much gray hair. He’d probably gotten it from having to deal with the city council.
His two counselors sat in chairs that flanked him. One was a serious older man who wore a kaffiyeh on his head and always folded his arms like a sultan in judgment. The other was a Hindu woman with a piercing gaze that gave you the impression she might be able to read your mind. Taylor could never remember their names, so
she simply thought of them as Counselor Number One and Counselor Number Two.
The Amish delegate stood up. He was easy to remember because he didn’t use the technology in the room and he looked like he’d stepped out of the 1800s. “What sets us apart from the Traventon government,” he said, “is that we don’t wantonly kill our fellow man. Do we change our convictions now simply because we face a new threat? When have we not been threatened? We have flourished through peaceful means.”
“We have flourished through stealth, intelligence, and courage,” a woman at the end of the table called out. “We need to use those qualities in heavy doses now. We don’t have to kill Reilly. We can capture him and bring him back here.”
A nun sitting near Taylor shook her head so that her wimple swished back and forth across her shoulders. “It will be hard enough for the team to break into the Scicenter and do their job. How can we expect them to find, capture, and carry a prisoner out of the city? The QGP technology is unfortunately unavoidable.” She sent Taylor a stern look indicating she thought Taylor should have known better than to invent the QGP in the first place. “Our scientists and engineers need to work on ways to shield our city from the QGPs’ range.”
President Mason broke in. “We’re working on that already. However, we have no idea how long it will take to build an effective shield. Furthermore, we want our people who live or travel out of Santa Fe to be protected. Let’s keep the discussion to the topic of assassination.”
Taylor glanced at Joseph to see what he made of all of this. He was gazing at his lap. Most people wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing, but since he sat beside Taylor, she could peer down at his screen. He was typing code, studying the syntax, then making adjustments.
It figured. He wasn’t even paying attention to the debate.
The light went on in front of Counselor Number One. The president and his counselors could cut through the line of waiting speakers when they pushed their buttons, and it was a feature Counselor Number One took full advantage of. “I would like to remind everyone we have an important advantage where Reilly is concerned.” He leaned toward the other delegates, and his voice took on the tone of a seasoned storyteller. “Reilly is a cautious man, a suspicious one. A man who doesn’t want to share his glory or his importance with anyone. Which is why Reilly has kept the knowledge of how to build QGPs in only one place.”
Counselor Number One tapped his finger to his temple. “Reilly reasons that if no one else can build the QGPs, the Traventon government will have to keep him in charge and give him everything he wants. If we vote to assassinate him, we will destroy the knowledge with him.”
It wouldn’t be completely destroyed. The knowledge was still in Taylor’s mind, although she didn’t feel like pointing out this fact. Not when everyone was so assassination happy. Was that why President Mason had wanted her in the meeting—as a sort of veiled threat that she had better work with them because they already had ample reason to kill her?
Taylor glanced at Joseph again. He was running some sort of simulation with various inputs. She tilted her head to better read his screen. As she scanned the code, her stomach tightened. She recognized the QGP programming. It was almost like hers, but some things had been changed, shortened, or left out. It was Reilly’s programming.
Joseph scrolled down to the next page, making some changes to one of the equations, a switch that would make a time range more powerful. Was he trying to figure out how to make a QGP work?
No, he couldn’t be. Not while he was sitting in the council chamber next to her. Especially if he was even halfway paying attention to the assassination debate. She nudged her knee into his and whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Research.” He didn’t look up.
“Where did you get Reilly’s QGP files?”
“I’m just checking some possibilities,” he said.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Taylor whispered. “Why?”
“To make sure the QGPs can be destroyed.”
Taylor narrowed her eyes at him. Before they had escaped from Traventon, she and Joseph had broken into the Scicenter and used the Time Strainer to send a destruct message back through time to the QGP in the twenty-first century. “We’ve already destroyed one. We know the program works.”
Joseph tilted his computer away from Taylor’s view. “You can never be too prepared. At least that’s what a sign near my apartment building says.”
Taylor would have made a comment about that, but President Mason called her name.
“Taylor, can you tell us your thoughts on the matter?”
Her head snapped up. “Yes, um, after carefully considering the delegates’ opinions, I think somebody should off Reilly.” She held up a hand, already making amendments to her statement. “Usually I would think assassinating people was wrong—really, horribly wrong and a dreadful sin that you would all be held accountable for—but Reilly doesn’t want to use the QGP for peaceful reasons; he wants to kill people.”
Everyone stared at her in patient and not-so-patient silence. Taylor leaned forward and spoke more slowly to make sure she pronounced her words with the right accent. “I vote in favor of the assassination.”
A couple of the leaders shook their heads in exasperation; a few more sighed. The rest kept staring. President Mason cleared his throat in a mildly reprimanding tone. “We suspended the assassination decision to discuss which experts to send on the team. Pascal believes Reilly will have placed safeguards on his QGPs that prevent the machines from taking your original self-destruct signal. We’ll need people who can get around that sort of thing.”
Oh. So that’s where this conversation was heading—to her going along with the team. “I’m sure your city has many qualified programmers,” Taylor said.
“We do.” Pascal smiled condescendingly. “But you’ve refused to make them experts on the QGP.”
President Mason looked firmly at Taylor. “You know the system the best.”
Taylor shifted in her seat. “Hey, I’d like to help you, but the only way to send autodestruct signals to the QGPs is to use one of the classified computers in the Scicenter.” She put her hand on her chest. “If I walk into the Scicenter, they’ll recognize me.”
Counselor Number One waved away her concern. “We can disguise you.”
Taylor shook her head. She felt the weight of every delegate’s stare on her, the weight of their expectations. “The last time I went to the Scicenter, I was caught and strapped to a chair, and Reilly hit me every time I denied knowing anything about the QGP.” The only reason he stopped was that Sheridan told him she was the one who’d invented it. That memory still bothered Taylor, made her prickle with anger. “I’m the last person who should go anywhere near Traventon again.”
Counselor Number Two pursed her lips. Her words came out in a slow, staccato rhythm. “You’re the one who created the weapon. A person of honor would consider it her responsibility to destroy it.”
President Mason’s voice was gentler. “We’ll send in a security team to protect you. We won’t let you be captured.”
Joseph pushed his speaker button. “You don’t need to send Taylor. I can do it without her. I’m far better at splicing into Traventon’s computers and I know the program she used to destroy the original QGP.”
Taylor turned and stared at Joseph. “What?” she asked, blinking at him. Traventon’s Enforcers weren’t just looking for Taylor; Joseph was a wanted man too. “Do you have a death wish or something?” She turned back to President Mason. “Joseph is the second-to-the-last person who should go anywhere near Traventon.”
“Joseph is a man of honor,” Counselor Number Two said, aiming her words at Taylor. “He has already agreed to go on the mission.”
So, Taylor had missed more than a debate on assassination. She turned in her chair to face Joseph. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. Sheridan is going to be so upset when you die.”
He tilted his chin down as though Taylor was the on
e who was being unreasonable. “The QGPs have to be destroyed. You know that.”
“But not by us.” She looked upward. “Sheridan will be heartbroken. She’ll cry for weeks.”
“Who here in Santa Fe knows Traventon computers as well as I do?” Joseph asked.
Taylor let out a long sigh. “My sister will still be moping around a year from now, and I’ll be the one who has to deal with her.”
President Mason steepled his hands and brought them to his lips. “We need people who can overcome anything Reilly has done.” His brown eyes rested on Taylor. They seemed tired. “You’ll be well paid. You’ll receive a top-level year’s salary in your account when you return.”
If she returned.
Taylor swallowed hard. Her mouth felt dry, bitter. They couldn’t make her go back. They couldn’t force her to do this.
“Of course,” Pascal added, turning a smug, catlike gaze on Taylor, “if Sister Bradford wanted to instruct someone else about the intricacies of the QGP, perhaps it wouldn’t be necessary to send her. I’m brave enough to do the job.”
Nope. Even as much as Taylor would like to wave a cheery farewell to Pascal, Taylor couldn’t divulge more information about how the QGP worked. Instead of destroying the machine, Pascal might become Reilly’s new assistant.
Taylor stared stubbornly at President Mason and didn’t say anything.
Her expression must have spoken for her, because Counselor Number Two clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Most people would feel a debt of gratitude toward the people who rescued them from Traventon, who took them in, who gave them clothes, food, and protection.”
Counselor Number One waved a hand in Taylor’s direction. “It’s a year’s salary for less than a week of your time. No one else in the city gets paid that well. I don’t.”
President Mason simply kept looking at Taylor, watching her with his kind eyes. “Please,” he said.
Taylor groaned and rubbed her forehead. She didn’t like feeling as though she owed these people something and was too cowardly to repay them. She didn’t have a choice. Not really. “Fine,” she said wearily. “I’ll go.”