Mo’Steel squinted but saw nothing. Not even a glimmer in the dull gray light.
“Uh,” he said, “I don’t — whoa. I see something now. That it?”
A tiny bump in the distance. And, hey, even a tiny glimmer!
“The Source,” Sanchez confirmed. “We will be there before long.”
The man slipped back into the band and Mo’Steel soon heard murmurs of excitement and of… fear.
Mo’Steel actually felt beyond fear these days. Well, almost. Too much weirdness had gone down for him to waste his time being afraid.
Now, curiosity. That he still had.
“Jobs!” he called and in a moment his best buddy was at his side, panting from his short run.
“What do you think it is, really?” Jobs said.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Mo’Steel admitted. “Probably better.”
“Definitely a holy place. Like a cathedral, maybe. Or like where Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation.”
“Or like Target.”
“What?”
“My mom’s favorite store. Back when.”
Jobs grinned. “Yeah. Right. Just like that. Seriously, though,” he said. “I’m a bit — worried
— about it all. What are we supposed to do when we get there? What if it’s like an Aztec temple or pyramid and some freakish priests are waiting to cut out our hearts?”
Mo’Steel laughed. “Man, it’s a good thing I’m here to keep that imagination of yours in check, ‘migo. Personally, I’m more concerned with what’s right in front of me. Or, behind me, at the moment.”
“You mean Newton?”
“For one.”
They were joined by Sanchez again, whose gaze was intent upon the goal.
The three walked on in silence. Gradually, as they got closer to the Source, those walking behind caught up and the entire band seemed to move as one entity.
And then, when they were within fairly close range, the Marauders began to hum deep in their throats. The Remnants drew in an involuntary breath. And held it for a few seconds before all trying to speak at once.
“Uh, Jobs?” Mo’Steel said, his voice cracking. “Do you … ?
“… see what you see? Yes. Yes, I do. I don’t believe it, but I see it.”
“Oh, my—” That was Olga, reaching for Mo’Steel’s arm.
“I don’t —” That was Noyze, clutching his other arm.
Suddenly, D-Caf, Roger Dodger, and Edward were pushing their way past
“Billy!” 2Face hissed.
“Tate?” Violet said hopefully.
Jobs sighed nervously. “Yago.”
“Just as long as it’s not the Troika,” Olga added.
When they were approximately thirty yards from the Source, the Marauders dropped to their knees, their humming louder and more rhythmic. Sanchez remained standing, head bowed in a reverent gesture.
The Remnants came to a stop just behind the worshipers.
“Who’s going to say it?” Noyze whispered.
“Mo,” Jobs said. “It should be Mo’Steel.”
Mo’Steel took a deep breath. “Okay, kids, here goes. Howdy, Mother.”
The shock had worn off. Sort of. At least, the Marauders had gotten to their feet and were busy setting up camp. And the Remnants were helping — when they weren’t staring slack-jawed over their shoulders.
There was no doubt in anyone’s mind, least of all in Jobs’s. Impossible as it seemed that the old wreck before him was the same ship on which he’d lived so short a time ago, and been in hibernation for five hundred years. Jobs had absolutely no doubt.
Mother — at least her physical manifestation — was a graceless bulk. There had been nothing sleek and streamlined about her.
Jobs moved away from his friends and peered more closely at the ruin. A gaping hole revealed what he guessed once had been the bridge. He thought he recognized the odd design of a Shipwright’s chair in a pile of ruined metal.
The enormous engines of the ship were entirely buried beneath massive drifts of ash. The ship’s metallic skin was dull and riddled with signs of age. What few windows remained had been sandblasted opaque.
Suddenly, Jobs was overcome with sadness, sadness so deep it threatened to crush his spirit.
Poor Mother, he cried silently. To die, all alone, on this already dead planet.
Come on, he told himself firmly. Mother was not a person. Not entirely. A consciousness, maybe. But — a person? A self-sustaining identity, a sentient being? Jobs heard a shout, turned, and shook away the philosophical debate brewing in his head.
They had visitors.
They’d been traveling for what seemed a long, long time. Still, much to Echo’s relief. Cocker had not taken them near the dreaded Dark Zone, about which Alphas had heard so many horrific tales.
Now, according to their guide, the Source was only a short distance away. Almost within sight…
“J’ou see?” Cocker said, pointing to a tiny mass in the distance.
Echo nodded and felt excitement war with anxiety.
“Do j’ou think the Marauders will allow us to stay with them?” Lyric mused for what seemed the millionth time.
Echo thought of the light-haired boy and said, as she always did, “I think they will welcome us.”
She heard a shout from the group ahead, and then saw arms waving.
“I think it’s okay,” Mattock said tentatively.
Cocker waved in return and coaxed them to step up the pace.
“What, j’ou believe everything j’ou hear?” he teased. “J’ou will see, Marauders are not all bad.”
And then, they were within yards of the sight. Echo scanned the gathering group for the one called Jobs and finally spotted him near the back of the group. She smiled and thought she saw him smile shyly back.
In spite of an obviously injured leg, the one called Mo’Steel strode up to them and clapped Cocker on the back. “Good job, ‘migo,” he said.
Cocker nodded and indicated Echo’s baby.
As if from nowhere, a Marauder woman Echo knew as Aga, as well as the younger woman who claimed Mo’Steel as her son, appeared at Echo’s side with smiles and words of comfort.
Echo felt tears flood her eyes.
A shaved-head Marauder she knew to be called Sanchez appeared as if from nowhere.
“The Alphas send these to the Source?” he asked Cocker. His expression was dubious.
Mattock answered. “No. We came on our own. We are no longer of the Alpha colony.”
A knowing look spread across Sanchez’s face. With a glance at Mo’Steel, he nodded. “J’ou are welcome.”
“Yeah, the more the merrier,” the boy leader said with a grin.
Echo wiped her tears and smiled back.
CHAPTER 8
“WE’LL KNOW WHEN WE FIND IT.”
Sanchez was torn. Mo’Steel had decided that representatives of the group should enter the ruined ship to see what they could find. That’s what the leader and his friends called it. A ship.
And they claimed to have traveled to Earth on it. The Alphas who’d just arrived with Cocker, they, too, said the ruin looked a lot like the big ship they’d seen from the colony’s observation point.
Sanchez knew that was impossible. The ship — the Source — had been here, in this same spot, since ,.. well, since forever.
And Sanchez hesitated to enter the sacred precincts. Yes, he’d made pilgrimages to the Source before, but never had he passed beyond its ancient walls.
But now … If I don’t go along, he thought, who will assure that She will be shown the proper respect?
It was decided that Mo’Steel and Sanchez, leaders of the expedition, would be accompanied by Jobs, Violet, 2Face, the Alpha named Mattock, the Marauder boy named Badger, and Newton.
Sanchez was uneasy about including 2Face. There was an energy about her that was — dark.
Unhappy. Wrong.
Just before they were to cross the threshold, Mo�
�Steel beckoned Sanchez aside.
“So, this is like a holy place for you, huh?” the boy leader said. “A shrine? The inner sanctum?”
Sanchez was unfamiliar with the exact meanings of the words, but he sensed that Mo’Steel spoke with an understanding of— reverence.
“Yes,” Sanchez said.
Mo’Steel nodded.
“Cool. I’m Catholic, you know. Well, I guess you don’t know. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about my
— Source. If you want to hear about it.”
Sanchez wasn’t sure how to answer.
Sanchez was the first inside. Mo’Steel held the others back for a full sixty seconds before allowing them to follow, one by one. Jobs hung back and brought up the rear.
Once inside he scanned the dime scene. It was a fantasy in gray. Here and there the metal floor peeked through the accumulated ash and debris. Ash drifted several feet up the vertical surfaces and had collected in depressions to make mini-sandboxes.
“Be careful,” Jobs warned. “Things might be pretty unstable. Don’t lean against any beams.”
“I am really done with ruins,” Violet murmured beside him, brushing aside a veritable curtain of what Jobs thought might have been a cobweb. But you can’t have a cobweb without a spider. And he had yet to see any spiders.
“What are we looking for?” Mattock asked nobody in particular
“We’ll know when we find it,” Mo’Steel answered. “Or not,” he whispered to Jobs.
Sanchez had wandered farther into the depths of the ship. Jobs realized now they’d lost sight of him.
Until they heard him scream.
Jobs launched himself after Mo’Steel and within seconds they found Sanchez in an alcove created by partially collapsed walls. The others piled into the space behind them.
Jobs stared, mouth open, hands clenched at his sides.
A slight, dark-haired, very pale boy hung suspended just above their heads in a faintly humming golden glow.
“Holy postapocalyptic fantasy.” Mo’Steel laughed weakly. “We got ourselves a Billy.”
“What is it?” Mattock asked, his voice hoarse with fear
“Who,” Jobs said. He could hardly speak past the emotion exploding in his chest. “who is it. His name is Billy. We lost track of him in the dream storm. The one that lead us to the Alpha colony.”
“He looks — peaceful,” Mo’Steel said. “Which is more than I can say about how he looked —
before.”
It’s true, Jobs thought. He does look — serene. Almost — happy. Billy’s back with Mother. But how…?
Jobs shook off the questions. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that they had found Billy and he hadn’t died a horrible death out there. He was safe.
Jobs shot a glance at Newton. The big man’s mouth was tight and he held his arms awkwardly at his sides. The guy was seriously freaked, no doubt, but trying hard to keep his terror under wraps.
Hopefully, Jobs thought, Newton is too terrified to harm Billy.
Sanchez, on the other hand, seemed unafraid but confused. Not suspicious, exactly. But like he was looking at something he in no way had expected to find. Like he was trying to get a reading on it.
Jobs glanced at Violet and recognized her usual look of wary intelligence. And 2Face? Well, the ruined side of her face was hidden from his view. But on the undamaged side, Jobs saw nothing. No emotion. Blank stare. He thought that odd, given 2Face’s complicated history with Billy.
Jobs turned his attention back to the small, dark-haired boy suspended in the golden glow. And he smiled.
While Sanchez and the others continued to watch Billy, Violet turned from the group and walked toward the back of the ruin. The desire to explore was irresistible.
Carefully she picked her way around a toppled beam. She was out of sight of the others, but not out of earshot.
The light was dim and the footing was rough. Stuff crunched under Violet’s feet. Shards of brittle glass. Torn pieces of metal. Ash.
Bone.
Violet sucked in her breath.
This, she was not expecting.
In what Violet recognized as a ruined Shipwright’s chair sat a skeleton. The body — what was left of it — looked so … vulnerable. The head had broken away from the spine and lay wedged between the rib cage and the side of the chain. The feet, though still attached to the ankles, dangled like those of a child sitting in his mommy’s lap.
Sadness threatened to overwhelm Violet. She took a deep breath and called to the others. They were by her side in a moment.
“Everyone?” Violet said, voice breaking. “I think you need to see something.”
It was a moment before anyone spoke. Then:
“Oh, gross,” 2Face spat.
Sanchez breathed. “It is She.”
“It’s Tate,” Jobs whispered.
“Who?” Mattock’s voice was tight.
“She was one of us,” Mo’Steel said. He stretched out his hand as if to touch the body but Sanchez re-strained him.
“J’ou know Her, too?” Sanchez said. “Maybe not as I know Her.”
Out of the corner of her eye Violet saw Newton shudder.
“How can you tell it’s Tate?” 2Face argued. “It’s just a skeleton….”
“Who else would it be? Jobs shot back. I just know it’s her.”
“I’m with Jobs.” Mo’Steel said. “But — how… ?”
Violet pointed at a rectangular object that lay close to the remains of Tate’s left hand. Gingerly, Violet reached for it, shaking off what she guessed were centuries of dust. “I’m betting there’s some kind of recording device in here. And I’m hoping it will explain everything,” she said. “Well, at least what Tate could understand.”
Violet stepped back and looked at Sanchez. He had withdrawn several feet and stood silently. His serene expression told Violet that Tate was somehow an essential part of his beliefs, part of whatever legend he had inherited from his ancestors.
Unlike Billy.
Sanchez had seemed seriously surprised to find Billy. Truth be told, so had Violet.
Violet sighed. Life just kept getting weirder.
CHAPTER 9
“WHAT A LONG STRANGE TRIP IT’S BEEN.”
“This is a job for you, my friend.” Mo’Steel handed the box Violet had found to Jobs. “I have no idea how this thing works.”
Jobs took the box and felt a wave of sadness wash over him. Tate had held this.
With the tip of his spade. Jobs pried the box open. Inside was, indeed, a recording device. It was simple enough. Tate hadn’t been a big techie. Jobs guessed she had asked the ship’s computer to produce a machine pretty much anyone could operate.
Jobs pressed a button labeled START, and said, “Here goes.” There was a half moment of screechy noise and then a familiar voice spoke into the gloom.
“Hey. Tate here. I hope you’re hearing this — Mo’Steel, Jobs, all of you.
I miss you all. Even now — I miss you. Talking like this, it’s almost like you’re here with me… .
Okay, before I start bawling — I need to tell you some stuff. About where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing.
Quick review: Yago and the Troika were working together. But I’m sure you figured that out yourselves. They stole Mother and left you all on Earth. I was a kink in the plan. I wasn’t supposed to be on the ship.
Well, it wasn’t long before Yago realized he had no power and that the Troika were in total control.
They were evolving into — into beings neither Yago nor I could figure out There was a big fight. A big complicated fight. And in the end…
Well, please try not to be disgusted. Please. Let’s just say that Yago and Amelia and Charlie all became a part of me. It was my — mutation. Duncan died. He was spared, if you want to look at it that way.
Of course, then there was another big, ugly fight. Who was going to control Tate’s body?
Eventually, that got resolved, too.
>
As much as it freaked me out to have Charlie and Yago and Amelia in my — head — in the end, I came to need them, rely on them. And they, of course, needed and relied on me. Being alone is not good. No person is an island and all that one. Then three, then two. Now, it’s just me and Amelia.
Together, with the help of Daughter, who’s a sort of dumbed-down version of Mother — it’s a long story but you can blame it all on Duncan — we figured out how to travel through not only space but time.
Okay. I know it seems impossible. But it’s true, folks. And I’m — here — to prove it Past Present Future. It’s all one. It’s all happening simultaneously.
How? I have no idea. I’ll leave explanations to the scientists. Or to the holy folks. I never did do religion.
Point is, I died an old woman approximately five hundred years before I was born.
Why did I do this? Another long story. Let’s just say I saw and heard things in my dreams. I knew that in some way you needed me to be here. Needed the ship — Mother, not Daughter — and Billy — to be here. Now.
Really, it was Billy who showed me the way. And if I can believe what I saw in sixty years of dreams, his love brought Mother back to life. I’m betting she still holds him close.
Sort of like a parent and child.
Boy — what am I saying? That all you need is love?
Huh. Maybe.
Another thing.
I learned something very important during the years I wandered through space, searching for life on every planet I could find. I learned a lesson I believe I’m supposed to tell you.
So, here it is. The universe is a big empty place, my friends. What we had back before the Rock —
human civilization — well, it was more precious than we ever knew. Sure, it was messy, and it could be stupidly self-destructive and all. But it was one of a kind.
It was the best
I’d better end this. I don’t know how much more time I have. So, my wish for you — for all the Remnants — for anyone who hears this — is to do what has to be done to make it all better again.
Oh, and listen to Billy.”
The recording ended. Jobs closed up the box and didn’t bother to wipe away the tears filling his eyes.
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