“Indeed. Even my mother doesn’t know how old she is. She just knew the person who’d have the answers, and when she met up with my father again, when interest in children came about, the two of them paid her father a visit and learned the truth.”
“Which he’s told no one else since.”
Adam cringed. “He’s not been able to tell anyone else since.” Genevieve groaned. “History provides some context. Those with Energy skills dubbed themselves the Aliomenti, and over time used their skills and, eventually, their immortality to create vast fortunes and political influence. Will became more and more disgusted with the use and abuse of their power, and eventually walked away, forming a group called the Alliance. They believed they should use their skills to help others, rather than to exploit them.”
“The more I hear of this man, the happier I am that he ended up with my daughter.”
“And I am glad he ended up with my sister.” Adam smiled. “The groups warred with each other in different ways. Will, knowing about the possible repercussions of their actions in the broader spectrum of history, set a standard that the Alliance wouldn’t kill. Arthur set no such limits. He also decided that the best way to destroy Will’s group in the long term involved both destroying the existing members and preventing the creation of more. He assigned men called Hunters and Assassins to the former task. For the latter, he determined that natural forces could eliminate the rebels if they’d die of old age. Since his group had their own private groves of ambrosia trees that they guarded heavily, Arthur sent men out to find ambrosia in the wild and destroy it all, meaning to monopolize the world’s supply of the fruit. My father remained a spy in Arthur’s inner circle. He and my mother realized that if they didn’t talk to Ambrose immediately, they might never learn his secrets. And if Arthur found Ambrose, he’d force the man to talk to Arthur’s side instead.”
“So they got the information they needed and killed her father to keep the information from Arthur.” Genevieve’s disgust was palpable.
“They did. And to answer your unasked question, it was my mother who killed him. Adam argued against it, saying enough people had died.”
Genevieve looked relieved. Somewhat.
“The war continues to this day, though it’s different than most. One side won’t fight, and the other doesn’t know why. The Alliance know that a fierce, protracted battle may kill the people needed to get Will and Hope in position to marry and have their children at the right time, to build the time machine, or to send Will to the past. If any of those didn’t happen, we’d all be dead.”
She shivered. “And Hope is involved?”
“Not at first. She had a private mission over the centuries: finding Will’s ancestors and rescuing them from certain death. It doesn’t do you any good to live a long life if your husband’s great-great-great-great grandmother dies in a freak accident, after all.”
“Oh… right.” Genevieve couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “But she did join?”
“Yes, but they’ve made sure her real name isn’t known, and her new name—Hope—is rarely communicated. Arthur, to this point, has shown no signs of escalating the fighting, but both Hope and Will believe that if he learns Elizabeth still lives, he will lose control and order all his people to seek out, attack, and kill the Alliance without remorse. The Alliance can’t let that happen. But make no mistake; there will be a war. Probably soon. Probably not long after all worries of getting Will Stark safely back to his past are over.”
He could feel the rising fear in her mind. “You… you’re thinking… Hope will be fighting that war, leading it. You can’t let me see her right away… because she needs to focus on the fighting.” He saw a tear escape her eye. “I won’t get to see her until after the war ends? After coming all this way, I won’t get to see her until a war ends, a war in which she’ll fight and possibly die?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “She’s the best military and fighting tactician in the world. The fight will be over quickly. She’ll make sure she survives. And I’ll make sure you get a chance to see her now, as a grownup, before the war starts.”
She wavered, wondered if she ought to revert to her time machine stealing plans. But she’d been awed by the level of commitment that her daughter and her allies showed throughout this time, and didn’t want to be the one who ruined it for everyone. “Make sure that happens. And make sure she survives.”
He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.” He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “We’re running out of time before we have to move. It’s going to get a little bit tricky now, because other people need to ride in the time machine. And they can’t know you’re here. I have an idea of how to make sure you get where you need to go without anyone finding out.” He offered her a grim look. “Do you trust me, Genevieve?”
She took a deep breath. Then she nodded.
“Good,” he whispered. His Energy reached the sleep centers of her brain, and in an instant, she was asleep, still sitting up. He caught her before she fell and hit her head on the console. After hopping out of the time machine, he reached back, picked her up, and carried her to the trunk, which he kicked open. The full trunk space greeted him, and he set her inside gently, taking care to build the same false front he’d used previously to hide his secret supply bag, but this time he added air vents and soundproofing to her cocoon.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is the only way I trust to work.”
He went to the supply bag and, after rebuilding his Shield, he detonated the remaining Energy Eaters in the area around the landing space, removing all trace that he’d been there. That would prevent awkward questions from Fil and Angel, who’d wonder why they sensed his Energy on the island when he’d never been there.
He rummaged through his supply bag. Beyond the journal, the only items left were a few water bottles and wrappers from the eaten food rations. He frowned. Having already depleted his Energy eaters, he couldn’t destroy the supplies with a fiery blast. His eyes moved back to the trunk. Genevieve now occupied the space his private supply bag filled before, and he wouldn’t have room there for his trash… or the large portable cloning machine.
He paced, thinking about it. He’d need to return the cloning machine; while any member of the Alliance could borrow and use them, they had to bring them back when done. They didn’t create finite numbers of them for obvious reasons, and he knew better than to think he could lie about having “lost” or “accidentally destroyed” the machine.
He’d need to leave it here on Eden and figure out a way to get back to an untraceable island nobody could find. He could teleport here now that he’d visited, but if he came back to get the cloning machine when Will and Hope returned—and he suspected they would, and soon—then he couldn’t use teleportation to begin his stealth mission.
Which meant… he’d need to hide it here. And then he’d need to get back to an island nobody could find when Will and Hope were back again and retrieve it without alerting them to his presence. Ironically, he could now teleport here because he had the necessary mental images of the island necessary to complete the trip… but couldn’t use that method for his stealth mission.
He’d need to travel here… by using one of the flying spheres. And that meant he’d need the island’s coordinates. He had them stored in a photo on his phone… but those might already be obsolete. How much might the island move before he could fly back here?
His eyes fell on the time machine, and his mind walked through all the different times he entered and exited the craft. The answer struck him quickly, and he reached down to unstrap the remote from his leg, staring at the buttons.
Remotes were paired with single ships, using unique frequency signatures. Each remote had a “find me” feature that let the holder summon the craft to his or her current location. It was risky, but Adam suspected he could reverse the process and track the coordinates of the remote from another ship. He wasn’t sure if there were any better options.
He strapped the remote back to his leg, used nanos to pick up the cloning machine and other trash, and then walked east. Fil had gone south. Angel had tested the area to the west. He’d gone north. Nobody had gone east, which meant that anything he did in that part of the island wouldn’t be noticed by the soon-to-arrive time travelers.
He used the walking time to flip through his phone and the pictures he’d taken before he left, using those images to re-create what he’d been doing before leaving for… a month? Six weeks? He saw the numbers etched on the cave walls and remembered scratching each set in place as he’d jumped back through time. He saw the image of the time machine in the clearing, facing south, and the unconscious bodies of Will, Smokey the dog, and the Assassin ringing the craft. He knew he’d need to reposition all of them back inside before Fil and Angel returned from whatever Fil had found. He kept scrolling back, found pictures he’d taken with Gena—oh, how he’d missed her!—and then a few of his mother, always in group photos, even now still doing the subtle things that would keep people from wondering why the two seemed unusually close for an aunt and her nephew. He shook his head. Genevieve was right. He’d need to talk to his mother, perhaps have Genevieve do so, and then let their closest friends in on the truth. The hiding of truth seemed silly now, after his conversations with Genevieve.
He swallowed. He’d need to tell Hope she was his half-sister, that she wasn’t related to Arthur Lowell at all. He’d have to confess that he’d let that secret slip during the leadup to the events in 2030, but erased that memory when preparing her for the final assault by the Assassin.
He wondered just how angry she’d be about that… and wondered if, on a deeper level, he’d brought Genevieve home from the past to relay that difficult message on his behalf. Was he truly such a coward? He must be; his long life and vast experiences told him that the truth was greater than a lie, but hadn’t given him the greater courage required to act on his wisdom.
He’d been walking mindlessly, with his luggage floating behind him, as he performed his bit of self-analysis, and now he found himself in a grove of trees. His sense of smell lit up as he entered, barraged by a familiar, intoxicating scent. He blinked. An ambrosia tree? Here? When had that happened?
He took a step forward and his boot thudded against a hard surface, not the soft grass and moss he’d trod upon until now. He lifted his boot, and saw a smooth stone etched with letters, partially covered by a thin sheen of dirt. Curious, he bent down and wiped the dirt away.
WS#2 1994
He blinked, his eyes translating the code. Will Stark #2. 1994. It was the year that Will had died before his eyes, outside the casino hotel on the Aliomenti Headquarters island. The short message confirmed so much of what he’d come to believe since that time, confirmation that wouldn’t be finalized until Will himself told him the truth. Will Stark #2 would be his clone, and the clone’s final resting place was here on this island, where the original Will brought it for burial and the beginning of his long retreat from public life.
He stood up and moved away a few steps and found a spot near the stone with less grass than in the rest of this grove. It seemed as good a place as any to leave his wares behind, and he’d found a stone to mark the spot. Will used the nanos surrounding his belongings and burrowed the whole lot into the ground, only a foot or so beneath the surface. He didn’t want to spend much time digging when he came back.
He recalled the nanos and jogged back to the time machine, glancing at his watch and picked up his pace.
He needed to get out of here before he showed up again for the first time.
~~~56~~~
2219 A.D.
He reached the clearing with fifteen minutes to spare. If he ran a second late, the time machine would arrive on this island the first time, and he’d find himself staring at Fil, Angel, and a confused second version of himself.
He didn’t know how that would work out, and instead focused on making sure it never happened.
There were no remaining items floating about; he’d collected his trash and buried it near Will’s clone’s tombstone. The impressions made by the time machine were irrelevant; the new arrival would make its own and mask whatever marks he’d left behind.
He hopped into the craft and checked the battery levels. Fil probably hadn’t looked before heading out to explore and, truth be told, he couldn’t remember if he had either. He estimated where he thought the levels should be after their detour, estimated how much he thought they’d drop for his final solo time hop, and ran a short burst of Energy into the charging station.
Everything else seemed in good shape.
He glanced toward the back, toward where Genevieve slept soundly in the new hidden space. They’d built air passageways through from the main cabin into the trunk as they’d always known they’d carry an extra passenger there, which meant he didn’t need to worry she’d suffocate in the upcoming journey.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the photos he’d taken until he found the image of the control panel showing the exact instant he’d left the ground to begin this incredible, life-altering, completely secret journey. He added thirty seconds, changed the height coordinate to be sure he didn’t land on top of himself, or any of the unconscious living creatures he’d discarded before departure, if there were any curious misalignments on the time, and punched the time circuit activation button.
It was his final solo hop.
There was no change in scenery, of course, save for the obvious rise of the time machine off the ground. He spun around, looking north, and just barely caught a glimpse of this same time machine streaking over the waves. It was the first sign everything was as it should be, that he’d not altered history to the point that his arrival on Eden yet again corresponded with his initial solo departure. His eyes locked briefly with his past or future self—he didn’t know which, or care at this point—and then he set to work.
He pulled out his camera again and scrolled back, finding the coordinates of the original “detour” hop and plugging them in, giving the impression they’d never changed. He examined the picture he’d taken showing how the craft was oriented in the grassy landing, shifted everything to the right, then hopped out to ensure he’d not land on any of the passengers still laying on the ground, nor the inanimate objects he’d left behind. He jumped back into the machine and set the craft on the ground.
After popping open the trunk and floating the Assassin inside—and murmuring apologies to Genevieve for putting her so near such an odious person—he slammed it closed. He used his camera to review the images he’d stored showing the exact positioning of Will and Smokey and the travel bags he’d taken out as a precaution, and used nanos to float and position everyone and everything as it had been. He checked the images one last time and found nothing amiss.
And then he climbed back into the time machine, back into the spot he’d occupied for so long, and breathed a huge sigh of relief.
He’d done it.
He’d have to figure out what to do with Genevieve for the next few weeks. Like many of the immortals, he owned homes around the world, most unoccupied but for a few days out of the year. He’d move her to one of those homes until the war ended, and ensure that she didn’t “accidentally” run into Hope, or Arthur… or his mother.
At some point, he’d need to fill Eva in on his extracurricular activities, letting her know he’d done it… and that he’d ad-libbed and brought a dead person back to the future with him.
He turned around and glanced at Will, sleeping soundly in the back, his face scarred and bloodied and burned after the ordeal he’d suffered. The faint scent of burning flesh brought back his full memories of the event. In the timeline he’d publicly traveled, they’d left the Stark residence only a few minutes ago, and he’d activated a timer to ensure that nothing remained of the building the man called home. It was a perfect way to resettle his mind back to the present time, to have him back in the moment. Will’s clothing was torn
, soaked in his own blood, and charred in spots where hot embers reached him. It helped remind Adam of the ordeal Will had been through, just as the handful of golden hairs on the seat next to him were a reminder of his private journey to the past, and—
He sat bolt upright. Golden hairs? On the time machine cabin seat?
Those hadn’t come from Hope. Or Angel.
He started to climb to the back, to grab the hairs, but given that he didn’t know when the others would return, or what he’d do if they found him holding golden hairs in his hands when they did, he stopped. Think.
He slipped the nanos to the back, commanding them to cover the hairs he could see. He risked a very quick glance to the back, his Energy-enhanced eyes taking in the back seat in an instant, his mind directing nanos to the other half dozen hairs Genevieve shed during the weeks they’d lived in this cramped compartment.
He’d need to remember to remove the hairs when he came back to retrieve the sleeping Genevieve from the trunk at some point later in the day.
He sat back in his seat and breathed a sigh of relief once again, just as Fil and Angel reappeared, excitement etched all over their faces, their thoughts betraying the cause. They’d figured out that this was the island where their father had lived during much of his pre-Alliance, self-imposed exile, where he’d built the very first submarine, where the clues suggested he and Hope had lived after he’d “kidnapped” her to save her life in the wake of her ambrosia withdrawal. They climbed back into their seats, chattering away. Adam murmured seemingly appropriate responses, but his mind was preoccupied with the coming hours. He’d need to get back to the machine and get Genevieve out. Then he’d need to sneak her into his personal flying sphere. Then he’d need to get her to one of his homes and figure out how to get her food and water and… some means of teaching her to speak modern English, acquainting her with the modern world, and familiarizing her with the events of the past twelve centuries that related to the Aliomenti, the Alliance, and her beloved daughter.
Adam's Journey (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 8) Page 27