Addy breathed beside him. She kicked off her boots, peeled off her spacesuit, and lay on the floor in her shorts and Wolf Legion band T-shirt. Her hair was damp with sweat.
"It's a good thing I shot the clay off, right, Poet?" she said when she had caught her breath. "You just panicked. I thought and came up with a plan. Because I'm the smart one."
He was too exhausted and thankful to argue. He patted her. "Thank you, Ads. That was quick thinking."
She beamed.
They stood up. Their flashlights were almost out of power, casting only dim, flickering beams. They found a light switch, and to their surprise, it still worked. Golden light bathed the chamber, revealing two tasseled swords hanging from a wall, a framed painting of sunset over a pagoda, and a creature in the corner.
Marco frowned. "What the hell is that?"
Addy's eyes widened. "A freak!" She stepped closer. "I need to take a photo! He needs to be in the next edition of Freaks of the Galaxy."
"Don't touch it, Ads." Marco grabbed her.
She shook free. "What? He's cute."
Marco shuddered. "It looks like a giant deflated balloon with eyes."
He stared at the creature. It lay sprawled across the floor, eyes blinking. Its bulbous nose hung over its pendulous lips. Its pink, wet flesh glistened.
Addy patted it. "Ooh, slimy!" She thrust her face closer to the animal. "Just what I always wanted. My own little cutie-freak! I will name you George, and I will hug you, and pet you, and squeeze you, and—"
The creature leaped up and wrapped around her like a wet, sticky blanket. Addy screamed and stumbled back, flailing.
"Looks like it's squeezing you," Marco observed.
She shouted, voice muffled. "Help me tear off this fucking thing!"
She flailed around, wrapped in the alien, looking like a woman trapped in a giant plastic bag.
"All right, I'll shoot it off," Marco said. "Hold still."
"Don't you fucking dare shoot me, Poet!" Her voice was stifled, barely audible. "If you shoot me I'll—" She screamed. "It's biting me! The fucker is biting me!"
Marco sighed. He grabbed the alien and began peeling it off. It struggled a bit, but when Marco used the barrel of his rifle as a crowbar, it came free.
"You all right, Ads?" he said.
She stood, arms held to her sides, dripping slime.
"It bit me! Right in the leg!" She showed him the tooth marks.
Marco frowned. "Looks like it bit you in the butt."
She growled. "That's my upper thigh!"
"Didn't a jellyfish once sting you in the ass too?" he said.
"That was my leg too!" She looked at the creature which hung draped across his rifle. "Toss that thing out."
He gasped. "Toss out George? But I thought you wanted to hug him, and kiss him, and pat him, and squeeze him, and protect him forever and ever and—"
She grabbed the alien and hurled it into the airlock. They blasted George out into the sea. They stood at a porthole, watching it. Once it was back in the water, the alien inflated. Soon it was round, filled with water, and its face looked young again, no longer like a wrinkled, grumpy old man. It looked like any other blobfish.
"Asshole," Addy muttered, watching the fish swim away.
"More like ass biter," Marco said.
"Watch it, or your ass will be kicked halfway across this ocean." She limped toward a doorway at the back of the chamber. "Come on, Poet. Let's explore this mecha."
"Wait." He held her hand, then pulled her into an embrace. "Just a moment. Hug break."
He stood holding her. She wrapped her arms around him. They embraced silently for a long time.
"We did it," Addy whispered. "We did it, Poet. We found it. We found the mecha."
He touched her cheek. A tear shone there. "We did much more. We studied Deep Being. We faced monsters and overcame them. The grays who attacked us on Durmia. A giant fish that swallowed our ship. An even larger crab that shattered it. And George."
She laughed, eyes damp. "The dreaded George, mightiest of monsters." She squeezed Marco tightly.
"We did it together," Marco said. "And we'll keep doing it. We'll keep defeating our enemies. We'll defeat the rest of the grays. I know it. We can do anything together."
She bit her lip. "We'll keep doing it?" She reached down and began tugging off his pants. "Ooh la la!"
"You know what I mean."
She grinned. "Let's do it."
Marco looked around him. "Here? Now?"
She nodded. "You started hugging and patting me and stuff! Got me all hot and bothered. Now pay the price!" She began tugging off his shirt.
He nodded. "Okeydokey."
She paused and stared at him. "Never say that again."
"Never," he promised.
She kissed him. And it was more than just sex; it was love, relief, hope. It was new life after coming so close to death. It was Marco with his other half. And as they made love, he looked her in the eyes, and he whispered, "I love you, Addy. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. You're the love of my life."
"Such a poet." She laughed and mussed his hair. "Now less poetry and earn your keep, lover boy! Put some back into it!"
Poetry? Perhaps. But Marco knew those words were true. He had loved other women before. Lailani. Kemi. Tomiko. Many women on Haven. But none had been through so much with him. None had ever understood him so well. Addy and he were fire and water. He could not imagine anyone more different. He could not imagine anyone else he preferred to be with.
I had a house by the beach, he thought. I had fame and fortune. I had everything I wanted. But I was miserable. Here with you, fighting monsters, exploring worlds of danger and wonder—I'm happier than I've ever been. Because I'm with you, Addy. Because you and I are meant to be.
They made love, and they lay holding each other for a while. Then they got dressed and prepared to explore the mecha. A doorway opened to reveal an elevator. Inside, they found a control panel. But instead of numbers representing floors, they saw a diagram of the mecha. Glowing buttons appeared on various locations on its body.
"The control center must be in the head," Marco said.
"If this mecha is anything like you, it'll be in the crotch," Addy said.
"Ha ha, very funny," Marco said. "If it's like you, it'll be in the stomach, because all you think about is food."
She patted her stomach. "I do." Then she pressed a button on the diagram's head. "But as you wish, milord. We'll check the head."
The elevator began to rise. It creaked and jangled, but considering it was five hundred years old, Marco couldn't complain. As they traveled up the colossal statue, Addy began to hum "The Girl from Ipanema."
After a moment of silence, Marco said, "Ads, I've been thinking."
"Me too," Addy said. "My mind is working a mile a minute." She kept humming the tune.
"That creature down there that bit your bum," he said. "George. He wouldn't have survived inside this mecha for five hundred years. That's when Taolin Shi flooded and the mechas were sealed up. George must have sneaked in recently. There must be another entrance to this place. We might encounter more life in here."
Addy nodded. "Makes sense. This time I won't squeeze it."
A glowing dot was moving up the diagram, showing the elevator now in the mecha's chest.
"And what was it you were thinking of, Addy?" Marco said.
"Huh? Oh. I was just imagining the Space Galaxy movie, only with a cast of dogs instead of humans." She laughed. "It's hilarious!"
Marco sighed.
"No, seriously, think about it!" Addy said. "They're all pugs, and have little uniforms on, and—"
"I get it, Ads."
The elevator reached the top of the mecha. The door opened, and they stepped into the mecha's hollow head.
"Well, this is certainly the command center," Marco said, looking around.
Monitors, control panels, and gleaming diagrams filled the place. Lights shone on the
ceiling and walls. Holographic stats flickered. Pipes, fans, and grills covered the walls. It looked more complex than any starship cockpit Marco had ever seen. One viewport displayed the outside world; he saw a school of fish flit through the water. Nearby, he could make out the second mecha, the female one.
In the center of the room rose what looked like an exoframe, the mechanized armor Marco had worn in the army. Cables ran from the exoframe to the floor and ceiling. The mechanical suit held a war hammer, a smaller version of the mighty hammer the actual mecha held.
"You probably have to get in there to pilot the mecha." Marco bit his lip and couldn't help but smile. "I want to try it out."
Addy nodded. "Sure. Might want to ask for permission first."
"Addy!" He rolled his eyes. "This mecha has been standing here for five hundred years. The civilization that built it is extinct. Who am I going to ask permission from? George?"
She shrugged. "Sure, if that old Taolian dude is named George too." She pointed.
Marco looked. He nearly jumped out of his boots.
Jesus Christ.
It was a Taolian.
A living Taolian.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"All right, boys. It's time to fuck up the spacetime continuum." Lailani grinned. "Ready to destroy the universe?"
Her boys stared at her. Epimetheus, her dear Doberman, tilted his head and gave a confused bark. HOBBS, her hulking battle-bot, shifted uncomfortably with a clatter of metal plates and gears. The Ryujin was a small starship, no larger than an RV. With their supplies, weapons, and all the robots they had rescued from Dr. Schroder's lair, it was a tight squeeze.
It's cozy, Lailani thought. Cozy like chickens in a cage.
She was wearing her spacesuit. Unlike battle spacesuits, which were heavy and covered in armor, she wore a black, skintight suit used for stealth missions. She carried her helmet under her arm. Several weapons hung from her belt: a pistol, a blade, and a handful of throwing stars.
Today I'm like a ninja, she thought. Sneaky. Fast. Moving in shadows.
"Mistress," HOBBS said, "while it's true that time travel can rupture spacetime, fraying the fabric of the universe, I've run and rerun the calculations. The mission has an eighty-three percent probability of success. Even if we fail, we'll likely destroy merely this local arm of the Milky Way galaxy, not the entire universe."
"HOBBS, I was kidding!" Lailani rolled her eyes, then frowned. "Wait a minute. Eighty-three percent chance? Destroying this arm of the Milky Way galaxy? When I asked you about the odds earlier, you said they were excellent, and there's nothing to worry about!"
HOBBS nodded. "Indeed, mistress. I am not worried. Considering how dangerous time travel is, eighty-three percent of complete success is excellent. In fact, there is only a one percent chance of destroying the entire cosmos. Quite good odds."
Epimetheus mewled.
Lailani felt queasy.
"So let me get this straight," she said. "If I travel back in time to save my friend, I might actually—no joke, for real—destroy the universe."
HOBBS nodded. "If you create a paradox. Yes."
She cringed. She looked at the framed photograph she kept in the Ryujin. Taken a decade ago, the photo showed Lailani in her old platoon. They were all so young, wearing dusty olive drab, rifles slung across their backs, posing over the carcass of a dead scum. Einav Ben-Ari, then only an ensign, stood at the head of the group, stern, strong, the quintessential officer. Marco was trying to look serious, but Addy was raising rabbit ears behind his head. Caveman, Beast, and Sheriff were still alive, showing off their muscles. Lailani was making a silly face, cheeks puffed out and eyes crossed. She had her arm around her friend—a young recruit with long sideburns. Benny "Elvis" Ray. Her brother-in-arms. The boy she had killed.
For a decade now, she had struggled with guilt over killing Elvis. She had been only eighteen. Only a kid. A pawn of the scum. And those nightmares still haunted her.
It wasn't my fault, she thought. The scum were controlling me. Moving my limbs. Making me evil.
She winced. Perhaps that was a lie. The scum had not controlled her like puppeteers. She was part scum. There had always been a beast inside her. All they had done was awaken that part of her.
I grew claws, and I drove them into his chest, and I ripped out his heart. It's my doing. The blood is on my hands. She took a deep breath and tightened her lips. And I will find redemption.
Sensing her anxiety, Epimetheus nuzzled her, licking her tears away, making soothing noises, until she calmed. She embraced her pet.
"Thank you, Epi," she whispered. "You always bring me back." She wiped her eyes and looked up at HOBBS. "Tell me about these paradoxes."
The bulky robot sat with his knees pulled to his chest. On the battlefield, he struck an imposing figure, a giant of metal and fury, a grenade launcher on his shoulder and retractable guns on his forearms. He looked like some medieval knight, all in armor, his eyes two blue lights in his steel head. Yet here, crammed into the Ryujin, he struck almost a comical figure.
Perhaps it was the other robots that crowded the small spaceship. Seventeen robots. Seventeen machines with human hearts beating inside them. Seventeen Lailani had rescued from the dungeon of Elliot Schroder, the madman who had plucked out the hearts of his wife, children, and anyone who strayed too close to his world. He had also scarred Lailani's chest in an attempt to steal her own heart. The wound was still stitched up, still aching.
Lailani could not have left these machines behind. They were not human. But perhaps they qualified as cyborgs—humans merged with machines. And yes, perhaps they were a comical lot. One robot, the one who contained the heart of Schroder's butchered wife, was shaped like a Japanese schoolgirl in a sailor outfit, cute and smiling and docile. Three others were shaped like Victorian dolls with porcelain faces and elaborate gowns; inside them beat the hearts of Schroder's children. There was an assortment of others—a couple shaped as courtesans, one shaped like a metallic dinosaur, and a few whimsical robots made from gears and pipes and goggles, and they emitted steam as they moved.
My motley crew of friends, Lailani thought. Surely we're the oddest group of travelers in this galaxy. This galaxy I might destroy.
She realized that HOBBS was speaking, that her mind had drifted. She forced herself to focus on his words.
". . . for example, if you were to go back in time and kill your grandfather as a baby, surely you would not have been born," HOBBS was saying. "But if you were never born, how could you have killed your grandfather? So your grandfather survives after all, and you are born, but then you do kill him, and . . . well, mistress, there's a paradox. There are many other examples."
Lailani nodded, trying to ignore the assortment of robots around him. "And that can destroy the cosmos?"
"Well, the cosmos is sturdy," said HOBBS. "A paradox like that would rip a hole through spacetime, though not a very large one. The universe would then patch up the hole. Imagine creating a bubble of vacuum on Earth. As soon as you expose it to air, the vacuum fills up. Nature hates a vacuum, and it also hates paradoxes in spacetime. But when the universe fills the holes in spacetime, it can wipe out anything nearby. People. Planets. If the paradox is large enough—galaxies."
Lailani gulped. "Got it. So I just have to avoid killing my grandpa."
"Not that simple, mistress," HOBBS said. "Paradoxes can be tough to predict. You change one element in the past, and you can change the entire flow of time. For example, let us say you save Elvis. That means your younger self will not be plagued with guilt. If you are not plagued with guilt, why would you travel back to save Elvis?"
Lailani's jaw unhinged. "So I can't save him? Not without creating a paradox? And then universe goes kaboom?"
"To minimize the chance of catastrophe," HOBBS said, "you must make it seem like Elvis died. You must make sure that you—the young you, ten years ago—believes that she killed Elvis. Marco witnessed the original killing, correct? And so he must w
itness a killing again, so that his own timeline maintains its integrity. That moment changed the course of both your lives. If the young Lailani does not kill Elvis, is not racked with guilt, she will never seek the hourglass. She will never fight the grays in the jungle and summon the dragons of Mahatek. She will never go back in time ten years later. We will never be here now on the Ryujin, having this conversation. Paradox. The only way to avoid this catastrophe is to save Elvis—but make the younger you think she killed him."
Lailani sighed. "This is getting more complicated by the moment. Fine. So I have to fake his death."
HOBBS nodded. "Yes, mistress. And you must do this alone, to minimize the risk of more lives affected by paradoxes. You must not alter the past in any other way. You must not speak. You must not reveal your present form to Marco or to your younger self. You must not save anyone else. You must move quickly. Any wrong move, any other change to the past, and you can destroy the fabric of spacetime. I cannot go with you, not without risking further damage. You must do this alone. Flawlessly."
"All right," Lailani said, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. "I can do this. I've pulled more dangerous stunts before. I fought the scum emperor. I fought the lord of the marauders. I've eaten military Spam. I can handle a little tampering with the fabric of reality. No problemo." She gave a nervous laugh. "Not like the fate of the cosmos is on my shoulders or anything."
She looked back at the photograph. At herself and Elvis. That guilt was forever a demon curled up in her belly, worse than the scum inside her.
I can do this, she thought. I must do this.
She returned to the Ryujin's cockpit. It was a crammed little space, filled with old taco boxes, a handful of books to read during long flights, and bags of dog food. There were two seats, the leather upholstery cracked. Lailani took one and Epimetheus hopped onto the other. She turned on some music—good old classic hip hop from before the Cataclysm—and grabbed the controls. In the distance, she could see it, growing brighter.
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