The Duality Bridge (Singularity #2) (Singularity Series)

by Susan Kaye Quinn

  Every one of them is risking their lives to stop this thing when they should be fleeing with the rest of the Resistance. The black pit in my stomach grows into a gaping maw. All I wanted was to warn them, to say goodbye, not suck them deeper into this. An icy trickle crawls down my back, a powerless feeling, like I’m watching this unfold, but I can’t stop it any more than I could stop the wall of fire and ash in my vision from consuming everyone, sweeping them up in its deadly path.

  It’s already happening.

  Anger wells up, fueled by the fear—no the certainty—that some or all of them aren’t coming back from this.

  I turn, wrench open the door flap, and march out of the command tent.

  I’m ten strides away before Cyrus catches up to me. “Eli.”

  “Do not tell me you’re coming, too!” I don’t even realize my fist is raised until I see it hovering near my face, ready to fly.

  He bats away my fist and grabs me into a fierce hug. “I’m going to be here, taking care of your mom.” He grips me even harder, then shoves me away and jabs a finger in my face. “You damn well better come back because I am not explaining to your mother why I let you go off just to get yourself killed.”

  I feel the tears hot on my face. “Tell her I’m coming back.”

  “Damn straight you are.” His face bunches up.

  Basha comes flying out of the command tent behind him.

  I turn away so I don’t have to see him cry.

  I’m so consumed with rage, I barely notice my surroundings.

  I know I’m in the cockpit of Marcus’s transport. I know we’re headed somewhere deep inside New Portland with Grayson following in another cloaked ship. I know the passenger compartment holds people on the way to their deaths because I didn’t manage to stop them.

  My fists are curled so tight they ache. I slowly grind one into the window. An incoherent stream of curse words cycles through my brain. I’m numb with anger, buzzing inside and out.

  Marcus is in the pilot’s seat, although I’m pretty sure the ship is flying itself. “When we arrive,” he says, “we should get started right away. Either with Ms. LeClair’s methods or my own. We’ll have equipment that can more finely tune the process as well as record exactly what’s transpiring during your fugue state. In case we need to replicate it.”

  “Replicate?” I ask, turning sharply to him.

  “We’ve only begun our studies, Eli,” he says with a cool look. “As I said before, the most important thing we can do right now is understand how this works. And according to Ms. LeClair, you’ve made considerable progress without me.”

  I barely hold in a growl and turn back to the window. The skin on my hand heats as I grind it against the transparent ascender-tech material, whatever it is. This is exactly what Marcus wanted—me on the way to his lab with Kamali and her offer to spill all the details on our time with Lenora.

  “Eli.” His tone is sharp. “You have to focus.”

  “I can do this,” I say, not looking at him. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself—mostly I’m trying to see past the red haze of anger clouding my brain.

  “I’d be happy to airdrop Ms. LeClair and her revolutionary friends in the middle of New Portland if that would improve your concentration.”

  I whip my gaze to him. “You threaten them, and I swear, I’ll go solo with this.”

  He arches an eyebrow.

  Kamali appears in the cockpit doorway. “Go solo with what?” She has a hand on either side of the frame, face stern, the picture of a Resistance fighter in her black body armor. The long, curly strands of her hair are loose and billowing around her head, adding a bit of wildness that makes my heart ache. Just being here puts her in danger.

  I should have left without saying goodbye. “It’s nothing.”

  She frowns. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Her words are like an icepick to my chest, but it vents the anger bound up inside me. I’m out of my seat before I can think about what I’m doing. I force my fists to uncurl as I edge past Marcus to meet her at the door. My hands tingle as blood flows back into them.

  When I reach her, I duck my head and peer into her eyes. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, quietly. I’m starting to suspect this has to do with her beliefs—that I have a soul and that maybe I talk to God or something, even though I’ve told her the fugue isn’t anything like that.

  She stares back, unflinching, but she hesitates in answering. Then she says, just as softly, “I had a dream you were trying to save the world.”

  I pull back and frown. “A dream?” Not what I expected. And beyond strange, given she was in my vision of the coming storm.

  She winces. “I know it sounds crazy, but you were trying to stop this really horrible thing from happening, in the dream, then in real life you stroll into the command center and start talking like—” She squeezes her eyes closed, like she didn’t mean to say that. When she opens them, she says, “This thing you’re doing… I’m just trying to make sure you survive it.”

  The tension in my shoulders releases all at once. It feels like I’m melting. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  One side of her mouth lifts. “Which is why you need me along.”

  That forces a smile to my face, if only momentarily.

  She tips her head to the passenger hold on the other side of the cockpit threshold. Only Caleb, Tristan, and Leopold are riding with us. The rest—Grayson and the two additional militia he brought—are on the other transport.

  “They need to know what’s happening,” Kamali says. “What we’re up against.”

  I frown. “I don’t know what to tell them.”

  “The truth is a good place to start.” Her eyes are shining with something like faith in me—that I’m up to this task. I have no idea why, but I loathe the idea of disappointing her, even if I don’t want any of them here.

  I give a short nod, and she steps aside. Marcus’s ship is the luxury kind, complete with misty flooring, wallscreens and maglev chairs. No one is sitting when I emerge from the cockpit. Tristan’s face is a normal color again, but his glower is full-strength. Leopold pauses in his interfacing with the wall screen to turn to me. He’s wearing the same full-length formal ascender wear as Marcus, while everyone else is in body armor. Caleb leans against the door, his ascender-tech-enhanced gun propped on his shoulder—he’s the only one who doesn’t look completely on edge.

  “Kamali thinks you deserve an explanation for all this,” I say. “And she’s right.”

  Tristan frowns.

  “The ascenders did an experiment… and I’m the result.” I let that soak in for a moment. Leopold and Kamali know about my mom’s involvement, but the other two don’t, so I leave her out of it. “They gave me a unique ability to tap into Orion and see what ascenders are doing.”

  Leopold arches an eyebrow, then his head twitches slightly. Caleb straightens up from the wall, and Tristan’s blank expression of shock would be satisfying if the situation weren’t so dire. But I clearly have everyone’s attention now. Kamali takes a spot next to Tristan, a small frown on her face—of course, she knows I’m hedging the truth, but she seems to be tolerating it.

  I clear my throat before continuing. “Only a few ascenders know what I can do, and frankly, I’m still figuring it out myself. But this ability makes me a threat and something the ascenders want to use for their own purposes. Augustus—the ascender who attacked the basecamp and held you prisoner—is planning something big. Something that’s a danger to humans and ascenders alike.” I lift a hand to gesture to Kamali and Tristan, standing together. “Kamali’s been helping me get into the fugue state—that’s when I can tap into Orion—and she has this really terrible idea that she can help me stop Augustus. Maybe she’s right. I don’t know, but I have to try.”

  Tristan folds his arms. “So we’re going back to the place we just broke out of?”

  “No… well, sort of.” I wince as I figure out how to explain. “Mar
cus is taking us somewhere safe. I’ll be traveling to Augustus on my own—in the fugue state. But there’s a chance he’ll be able to track me, which is why I had to leave the camp. I couldn’t take the chance of him finding me there.”

  Tristan’s arm has snuck around Kamali’s waist. He tries to get her attention, but she ignores him and gives me a supportive nod. Leopold keeps quiet, but he’s making random twitch motions with his left hand. Caleb’s checking his gun.

  I slowly look each of them in the face. “Kamali’s determined to stay and help, but it’s not too late for the rest of you to go back.” I hold Tristan’s gaze last. “Drop me at Marcus’s safe house, then take the ship and go back to the Resistance. Do what you can to make sure Commander Astoria moves everyone to somewhere safe.” I swallow. “In case I fail.”

  Tristan’s eyes narrow. “What happens if you fail?”

  “Something… devastating. This thing will destroy everything in its path and...”

  Caleb looks up from his gun and nails me with his steady gaze but doesn’t speak.

  “… it’s just really big,” I add lamely. It’s a ridiculously inadequate explanation. I’m hoping it will convince them to leave.

  But Tristan only scowls. “How soon until we get there?”

  Marcus speaks from the threshold. “We’ll be descending in a moment. Eli, a word?”

  I glare at him, but I’ve already said more than I wanted to, so I follow him back into the cockpit. Outside the window, a structure towers over us that looks comprised almost entirely of glass. Thin steel members hold it together like a spider’s web glinting in the sun.

  “An interesting choice for a speech,” he says, examining me.

  “They wouldn’t believe the truth if I told them.”

  He nods. “I would like Ms. LeClair to stay, but I’d just as soon her friends returned to their camp.”

  “You and me both.”

  “However, if they gain access to information that needs to remain confidential, I’m afraid leaving will no longer be an option.”

  I scowl at him. “Fine. We’ll keep them in the dark. All except Kamali. She already knows more than you.”

  That draws out twisting stripes of black across his skin, which makes me smirk.

  An enormous glass door on the roof of the complex opens below us to accept our ship. We hover down through level after level comprised entirely of glass walls and lush plants. The building is like an immense greenhouse. There’s movement on the floors—some of it ascenders, some clearly bots, but there are also flashes of creatures that don’t look at all mechanical.

  I squint to catch a glimpse of one, but the floors whiz by too quickly. The brilliant New Portland sunshine grows more shaded and green-tinged the lower we go.

  “What is this place?” I ask Marcus.

  He taps something into the screen at his pilot’s seat. “A genetic research facility. We have allies here.”

  A giant frosted-glass door slides open below us, allowing us to drop into a darkened level. Marcus, finally done with his manipulations at the screen, rises from his seat.

  “I didn’t think ascenders would care about genetics anymore,” I say. “I mean, bodyforms sure, but why the biological stuff?”

  He gives me a look like I’m impossibly stupid, even for a human. “Oh no, you’re quite right. Life is only a fantastically complex process which gave rise to all our cognitions and, as far as we have verified proof, is still unique to this single, solitary planet in the universe. That wouldn’t interest anyone in the slightest.”

  Bright lights turn on outside our window, illuminating a garage. It appears we’ve landed. Marcus shakes his head and turns to the cockpit door.

  “Good to know ascenders still have the corner market on being jerks,” I call after him.

  He ignores me.

  I take a breath and wait a minute before I follow him into the passenger hold. It’s already cleared out, with everyone waiting outside—I’m the last one off. Grayson’s ship has decloaked next to us, and several dozen more ships are berthed throughout the extensive garage. Grayson’s two militia remain guarding his ship, but Grayson himself joins our group. All of us—Grayson, Caleb, Kamali, Tristan, Leopold, Marcus and me—are flanked by a couple dozen of Marcus’s sentries. We’re like a garrison on the move as we stride across the concrete floor toward a pair of frosted-glass doors.

  Leopold lumbers over to me, but it looks like he’s struggling, so I slow down. We drift to the back of the group, but still ahead of the rear-guard sentries.

  I scowl at his limp. “I’m sorry for what’s happened, Leopold. If it’s any consolation, I plan to kill Augustus the first chance I get.”

  He smiles. “If you can accomplish that, I will be most impressed.”

  I grimace—he’s probably right. That’s a fight I’m going to lose.

  “Not that I would mind,” he adds. “Augustus thoroughly scrubbed my cognition, and he was none too gentle about it. Everything I possess is now his.” Leopold’s voice is light, but it still wrenches my stomach.

  An image of the Dalai Lama’s body floats up in my mind. “I’m sorry about the Dalai Lama, too. More than you know.”

  “Yes, that was very unfortunate. He didn’t have long in this incarnation.” Leopold’s shoulder gives a quirk that I’m not sure is an actual gesture.

  I throw him a sideways look—he was a Tibetan monk before the Singularity, but I don’t know what his relationship was to the young leader of his religion. Or maybe ex-religion.

  “Do you believe he’ll resurrect?” I ask.

  Leopold gives a half-smile—I can’t tell if it’s a smirk or his bodyform is malfunctioning. “Resurrection is for ascenders and certain deities of pre-Singularity Abrahamic religions. The Dalai Lama will reincarnate.”

  I wince. “Sorry. I don’t know all the terms.”

  He gives a small laugh. “But you’re quite right in a way. The Dalai Lama’s cognition will continue. He’s reached enlightenment, so he’s as immortal as any ascender with a properly functioning backup.”

  I frown. The idea of reincarnation being the ultimate backup blows my mind. Does that mean it actually is possible to back up a soul? “Well, regardless, I’m glad you’re still with us.”

  Leopold tips his head in acknowledgment. “Even Augustus has limits as to what he can do to another ascender.”

  “What, there’s no murder in the ascender world?” It’s not an idle question—after all, Augustus has Lenora, in some capacity.

  “No.”

  “But you’re a rebel. Are you saying that doesn’t matter?”

  “Not terribly.” He huffs a small, extended puff of laughter. Like it didn’t quite come out right, or he couldn’t control it. “The variety of ascender lifestyles would surprise you, Eli. Those who leave Orion are simply considered to be sowing their wild oats, as it were. Perhaps indulging in games with mortals for a break from the fatigues of life on Olympus.”

  “Ascenders are not gods,” I say wryly. “Although you qualify on the arrogance scale.”

  He smirks as we pass through the frosted-glass doors into a maze of colored-glass walls. Some are clear, so we can see the corridors beyond. Some are opaque just enough to render the moving shapes beyond them into colored shadows.

  “No, we’re not gods,” Leopold says as our entourage slims out to funnel down the winding glass passages. “But we take our immortality very seriously. Even to be put to storage, which is reversible, an ascender would have to show signs of instability as well as the power to inflict dramatic harm. The non-conformists—rebels like myself and Lenora—are considered child-like, not dangerous. Augustus can put us through whatever torments he wishes. Or that he can, in some way, justify. All is fair, except that one and final sin: the death of an immortal.”

  I frown. “You’re saying Augustus won’t kill Lenora.”

  “No. Although she may wish for it, after a while.” His left hand twitches rhythmically several times, then stops.
“It doesn’t matter how powerful Augustus is—any ascender who takes an immortal life will have the collective power of a billion amorphous beings descend upon them. No individual ascender could withstand it, and even the most powerful coalitions would falter. This is the price of being connected so intimately in Orion—it doesn’t matter how many bodyforms or sentries or armaments you have in the physical world when your cognition is vulnerable to the masses and their hysterias. In the early days, those kinds of mobs—hordes of minds rampaging through the mental landscape—very nearly ended us in a maelstrom of conflict.”

  I frown. “A maelstrom.” The storm of my vision immediately pops to mind, but that can’t be what he’s talking about—Leopold means the past. The time right after the Singularity.

  “It wasn’t a war in any conventional sense. It was unlike anything you can imagine.”

  “You might be surprised what I can imagine.” I picture the milky-thick soup world of Orion, teeming with information and buzzing lights of ascenders. I can easily see how that could turn against an individual—even one as powerful as Augustus—and drown them.

  Leopold cocks his head at my comment, but continues, “Chaos reigned in the beginning, but eventually, we found order again. A balance of opposing forces. Power among ascenders is measured by the size of their coalitions and alliances. What you might think of as popularity.”

  “Influence,” I say. “Marcus said he had gained some influence and that Augustus might have to be more reserved now.”

  “That may be true.” Leopold lifts his chin toward Marcus at the front. “But remember that most alliances are temporary and shifting. That’s how you are a danger, Eli. You are more of a threat to Augustus than you realize. And perhaps for reasons that will be difficult to understand. You see, you are a virus.”

  “Um… what?”

  “An idea virus.”

  “What does that even mean?” I glance nervously at Marcus up ahead. He’s sending us dark looks, and I’m sure he can hear us.

  “It means that you represent the possibility of more in a world very carefully balanced on the idea that more does not exist.”