Outside, on the street he couldn’t see, but knew so well, he heard familiar sounds. People, wagons, horses…
The man half lifted the girl and leaped toward that back wall, as if leaping an obstacle only he could see. They landed, staggered and went down, rolling until the back wall stopped them, the man trying to cushion the girl. With his arms around her, he stared at Smith for what seemed a long moment. “It’s the way out.” He paused. “I think.”
Then Smith got it. They had crossed a boundary, the boundary of the alternate New York. They were outside the prison. He scrambled up, his freed hands reaching for weapons as he felt conflicting urges to flee and stay. Wasn’t sure which was him and which the device, but before he could join them, the floor shook, the other New York appearing like a dark shadow over the normal one, then the real New York vanished. A premonition of danger, a prickling at the back of his neck, made him look back as the three other sides of the prison closed on his position. This silent approach felt worse than incoming automatons. He’d have welcomed the noise, something to fight, not this silent, uneven approach. The stairs to Emelius’ quarters vanished in the big “bite” of this demented Big Apple. With nothing to fire on, his hands sagged to his sides. It felt both right and wrong for it to end here, where he’d found—and lost—his heart, and where he hoped he’d found his soul again. He started to sit again, finding some comfort in being in her spot, her place. A tremor almost shook him into the horizon and then it flickered, and he saw the real New York come and go in brief flashes, like a vintage movie. Then the remaining horizon flickered in a different way and he felt the dampening affect of the control device lessen, as if were losing power. Or an older model?
Memories began to surface, seeping up with painful force, memories of more than one surgery, of failed devices. With the memories came the knowledge of who and what he was and with that memory came rage.
He would not, he could not die in this place.
He focused on the flashes, trying to find the pattern, hoping to time his leap. Felt the silent approach from all sides as the reality closed shop…he felt the burn along his back and knew he had to try or die…
THIRTY-FIVE
How odd to see himself as he’d been. Faustus had been to this time, this moment, many times but he’d always avoided seeing his past self. He’d never articulated why, other than a vague worry about causing a paradox he couldn’t control.
Now he needed to see himself, decide if his past self was up to the job. He’d decided to let go of the future, but the doubts came flooding in now that he faced the moment of choice, as he approached the point of no return. Here where it had all ended was where it would begin again. From this time he’d launch his assault on the base, from here he’d wipe the nanites from existence, from here he and Halane would be reborn.
But this self who had never known Halane might not have the drive to make it all happen, even with the information he hoped to leave for him to find. For this self, Halane had never existed. He belonged to the changed time, the alternate reality that had formed following the massive reset. Could this man love Halane as she was meant to be loved? Could he fight for her and fight to keep the Time Service from ever happening?
And like a taunting voice in his head, he heard, could Halane love this man or ever want him? Did she ever want you as you were? You still don’t know.
I do know she’d hate what I’ve become. He felt that squirming shame again, the urge to crouch and hide from a woman that didn’t exist anywhere but in his heart.
There’s the control device, the voice suggested slyly.
He jerked in instinctive rejection, even as his mind considered the possibility. Doctor was gone, but if the nanites ceased to exist, he wouldn’t need him, just a Dusan device…
I couldn’t…shouldn’t…
It’s for her benefit, too. So she won’t be disappointed in you. You want her to be happy, don’t you?
He’d done all of it for her, sacrificed to give her back her life, so of course he wanted her to be happy. And he wanted her for himself, his reward for restoring her to her life. He ought to get something for not forgetting her, for bringing her back to life.
You deserve to be happy, too. Can you go back to what you were and be content? Can you give up the power? Your experiments on the specimens? The deaths? Remember how it feels when one of them died, how it pleased you? Can you forget that? Never do that again? Or worse, try to hide it from her?
It was true there had been compensations during his long journey, adjustments that hadn’t been all pain. Credit for his achievements that he’d been unable to wholly give up—the reason he’d kept Tobias alive and in the forefront of his machinations. He smiled, remembering all he’d done.
If she loved you, then she’d accept you as you are, but you don’t know, do you? If you’d had time, she’d have loved you, so why not help her get there faster? Then you won’t have to give any of it up. She can join you and experience the pleasure with you. Something added to the gift of her life.
Tobias had fought him, had fought the device—the memory pained and he pushed it away. Halane wasn’t Tobias and he wouldn’t make her do things she didn’t want to do, he’d just be hastening the process of her loving him, bringing her to it sooner. He’d never use it to hurt her or to make her do anything she didn’t want to do. And once she felt the power, she’d want that, too, though only as much as was suitable for a female. She would be his mate, his companion, his consort. She was quite clever and might prove helpful in restructuring the universes, once they were free of the nanites, and with Time leashed to their service and command. All those worlds and specimens at their mercy…he felt the pleasure of it coil in his belly. Perhaps he wouldn’t give it all up, that kind of sacrifice wouldn’t be good for their long-term relationship.
He studied his earlier self with something that might have been pity for what he would never know, for what he’d never feel.
And then he shot him, well, stunned him though it satisfied that new part of him to see his old self crumple to the ground. Been more satisfying to kill him, but he didn’t want to cause a paradox. No, he couldn’t kill him…yet.
* * * *
Doc had a sense of missing something as Hel’s hologram formed in front of them. It looked the same as Doc remembered, right down to the pissy expression. How sentient is she anyway? It wasn’t pertinent to the op, but Doc felt like she was allowed her moment of curiosity.
She isn’t aware like we are, but she is close.
Can she help us? Will she help us?
“How may I help you, my Lord?” Her tone was as close as a computer voice could get to a simper.
If the fate of all time—and Robert—weren’t on the line, Doc might have done something about it, but she’d donned her big girl panties this morning. She shifted a bit. Expected them to fit better though. Hel’s mouth twitched like he’d picked up the thought. She half expected him to think something about her panties, but he didn’t. Maybe he’d put on his big boy pants.
“I have reason to believe there are more hidden rooms on this outpost and it is most urgent that I find them.”
You could take the guy out of the Leader position, but couldn’t quite get the Leader out of the guy.
“There are protocols—”
“Is there a protocol for how to handle a time attack?”
How did he mix charm, serious, and authoritative like that? Doc felt like she should take notes.
The hologram was sentient enough to get wide eyed. “The Final Solution—”
“It is possible that this enemy has subverted the outpost’s fail safe.”
“There are protocols in place to protect against—”
“It’s coming from the future, from some place on this outpost. The protocols might not work. We need your help to stop it here before it can start.”
His sincere aspect was helped by the fact he meant every word, but he was still great at it.
Even in a
crisis, the hologram managed to preen a bit. “I will endeavor to meet your request, my Lord. Though I cannot assure your access.”
“Link to us while you do it,” he said, mixing a dollop of charm in so it sounded like a request rather than an order.
Doc expected her to bristle, but it seemed she liked the idea of linking to her “Lord.” Hel’s lips twitched as if he caught the thought. Doc was a bit surprised when she got included, even though Hel had asked for it, felt the hologram’s surprise when she made first contact with Doc’s peeps. Hel’s nanites weren’t sentient, which suited him. There wasn’t room for more personalities in there with his ego. With a mental yank, she connected with the nanite data stream, felt both engulfed and extended by it. Faster than light, she zipped through the outpost, through rooms no one in this time had known existed. A HUD appeared highlighting about twenty hidden labs scattered throughout the outpost. It seemed the Garradians had more secrets than anyone knew.
“How do we go about making them uninhabitable for our future bad guy?” Doc asked.
“All laboratories are secured with keys.” The hologram didn’t sniff, but it was implied.
“I am a Key,” Hel pointed out, just a hint of miffed in his tone. Maybe he’d donned his teenager pants today.
“There are many types of keys, my Lord.” The hologram looked and sounded sorry.
“If they are genetic keys—”
“I don’t believe these are genetic,” the hologram broke in, looking pleased. “They appear to be logic locks.”
Doc felt an illogical urge to scream—an urge cut off when an outpost-wide alert sounded.
The peep who would become Lurch said, Go. We will work on these codes and find a way to lock down these labs.
Doc felt the total shift of their resources to the problem, though they left enough nanites behind to help her maintain her mental balance. Without waiting for her to do it, Hel initiated emergency transport to the Control Center.
General Halliwell, his burly stance stiff with tension and his face rock-like impassive, wore his command persona like he still ran the show, though primary control had been handed over to the Gadi just after the recent change in Gadi leadership. His issues with Hel ran wide and deep, but he hid them well. His gaze found her, moved to Hel and chilled a bit. Okay, so he hid them pretty well.
“What is our status?” Hel asked the question of the Gadi personnel, who looked at each other instead of him.
“The sensors are—” Halliwell stopped as if he didn’t know what to say either, then gestured toward the screens.
Doc moved closer. He was right. They were…something.
* * * *
Ashe felt the wrongness of the stream, felt rocked by turbulence, as soon as it closed around her. Lurch helped harden her resolve, though she sensed his belief that this might be their last stand. Or maybe she felt it because she believed it. She pushed against the stream’s grain, finding the going as difficult as anything she’d experienced. Not that her experience was deep, but it felt deep after her recent experiences. Even compared to what had gone before, this was bad, very bad. As far as she could see, cracks and fissures spread out, like a parched desert in the dry season, as if time had been sucked somewhere else, a force that tried to suck her in, too. Worse, each fissure seemed to be a deep channel, with a counter force that tried to suck her down inside them as she traversed the parched plain. The beacons that marked the location of the time base in the stream were weak and intermittent, but the apex of the fissures spread out from there, as if a giant fist had planted itself dead center of the island, marking it as a target.
That was where she planned to make her stand.
And does this stand include a plan?
Of course. She’d been sifting and searching data for what felt like forever, as she clawed her way toward the apex.
Care to share?
Those things Smith used in the stream. They were like bombs.
Time disrupters.
Can this stuff Chameleon gave me work like those?
A sense of Lurch thinking, then, I think I can alter them sufficiently to create the same effect. I am uncertain whether the blast will be sufficient to stop what appears to be coming.
I’m not going to stop it. I’m going to try to divert it into an alternate time line. If it works like the one we landed in, it will close taking the wave with it.
To quote the Chameleon, it’s ballsy.
She was glad he didn’t protest or act like it couldn’t be done. If Smith had learned all he knew from the nanites, then they could do anything he could. Do you think it will work?
I believe it is our only option.
Not a ringing endorsement. She reached the apex, though it didn’t ease the counter force trying to take her into some dark, hungry maw. She used strands of the last of her drones to anchor them against the drag. Even anchored, the contrary forces jerked her around, trying to dislodge her anchors. Just when she thought she’d kind of gotten used to the yanking, she sensed the change, felt the sucking ease, then change direction, felt it crackle through the dry-as-dust stream. Didn’t want to look, but had to. Behind her, rising up dark and high, something that looked very like a tsunami rushed over the fractured plain, heading straight at them.
* * * *
Faustus felt less pain at being in this place so tied to his memories of Halane, as he exited his time bunker. No one appeared to notice him as he climbed the short distance to the gazebo, where he’d left his other self secured. It was a risk, but a slight one. People rarely traversed the steep climb to the gazebo. And he seemed to be the only one who’d ever wondered about the one hill, the single high point on the entire island. Hidden in plain sight, Faustus was unsurprised by the brilliance of the work hidden in the lab beneath the hill. He’d even considered trying to meet the mind behind the lab. Perhaps he would, once he had control of time. A mind was a terrible thing to waste.
He checked his data pad, looking for the wave that had wiped Halane from existence, and for his counter wave. The rogue wave was there, but no sign of his countering wave yet. Time to secure his front row seat and get the time shields ready.
He’d been here many times, particularly in the beginning when grief had ruled his world, before revenge became his driving force. He’d traveled along the time line in both directions, looking for signs of her, trying to find anything he could use to bring her back. He knew it better than he knew his own time, better than the life he’d had before he traveled to Kikk, before stepping into the space/time portal. Like much of his experience on the outpost, the discovery of the hidden bunker was an accident, though lately he’d begun to wonder if they were accidents or signs of his inevitable rise to power. He still didn’t believe in higher beings, but he could believe he’d been called by higher forces to restore order and keep the time stream from being manipulated by the wrong people. A high calling, he repeated to himself, with a slight smile. He’d use the phrase when the history of his rise to power was penned.
He checked base time once more, just to be sure. None of the time researchers, not even the Garradians, had been able to find a way to pinpoint time travel over great distances, but on the base, shifts through time were possible with the deployment of the proper beacons and a fair amount of practice. Beacons and markers certainly helped narrow time variations, but he believed he could find his way to this place, this time, if he were blind, deaf and dumb. He used a beacon now, but the real beacon was the heart he’d left here.
Already the stream showed signs of distress, though if it were from his assault, launched before leaving the future, or the incoming wave was unclear. He’d learned much about the stream, but it resisted absolute knowing, as if it knew the dangers of too much knowledge. He felt he’d recognize his wave when it arrived, though he wouldn’t need to know which was which. His role was to watch them cancel each other out, grab Halane and get inside the shields. He had time—as always his lips twitched at the word—to set in motion the re
st of his plan, set in motion the takedown of the base and the nanites—his last opposition. Soon even Time would serve him. And if all went as planned—and why wouldn’t it—in an orchestrated and ironic twist, at the right time in the future both the base and the nanites would author their own destruction. On his data pad, with as much of a flourish as he could manage, he pressed the buttons that would launch the assault force at the time base.
He did love orchestrated and ironic. And when it was over? There were many things to look forward to, but one of the most satisfying would be the long delayed meeting with the Chameleon. He’d look him in the eye while he decided the man’s fate, one of many meetings to anticipate, though the meeting with Halane was, of course, the most desired. But Chameleon was up there in his top ten. A pity Tobias wasn’t here to see the final movement of the symphony. He’d be blamed for it by the opposition—for as long as they managed to exist in the new, universal order. He looked at the recall button and pondered. Maybe Tobias should be here for the finale. He’d always planned to watch him die…
THIRTY-SIX
“We made it…” Em said, “…somewhere.” Her head moved, possibly to assess this somewhere, though it felt like she wriggled closer. “Feeling deja vu all over again.”
Her grin told him she knew it was redundant and didn’t care. When she looked at him like that, she could be as redundant as she wanted. Robert did note, without surprise, that she still didn’t stray into question territory. Considering what she’d been through since she met him, it was remarkable. If he weren’t already falling in love, it would have pushed him over the edge. Robert would have liked to count this as progress in expecting the unexpected, but he no longer expected her to act anything but atypical. It wasn’t her best quality, but it was in the top ten. He studied her mouth, which was also in his top ten, possibly number one, and wondered if she could be persuaded into a kissing frame of mind.
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