“We triggered some form of nanite-targeted virus,” Hel finished.
“We need to get into that lab,” Doc said. Had her head hurt this much before the peeps? “It has to be secured.” Her gaze homed in on Fyn.
“Okay.”
Did he look happy? He did stoic so well, Doc thought about him, tried to mimic him when she needed to go there. “Maybe a small team, sir?” Halliwell nodded, but before he could give the order, the chugging of the airships ramped up. They were close enough to count now. “I count twenty.”
Halliwell snorted. “I could take one down with my sidearm.”
It’s a trap. She hesitated. Or a diversion? In any case, “Yeah, but maybe we shouldn’t shoot them down. Maybe that’s what someone wants us to do.”
Halliwell managed to look resigned and wry. “And you never do what anyone wants you to do.”
Doc managed a strained grin. “I wouldn’t say never. I’ve obeyed you more than once, sir.” Though at the moment she couldn’t recall if any of them had occurred in this reality. “I do try to frustrate the bad guys.”
As if they heard her, puffs of smoke bloomed from the sides of the airships. The whistle of incoming warred with the growl of steam engines.
“Cannon fire?” He looked offended. “At that distance? Are they kidding?”
The shells arced ponderously toward them, the whistle rising in pitch as they closed—as if they hit an invisible wall, the shells disappeared.
She blinked and nothing changed.
“Weird.” Fyn lowered the weapon he’d pulled.
“Doc?” The general’s voice yanked her attention the other direction. The line of automatons now closed on their position and they showed up on tracking. If they were in their reality—
“Those are bigger than the ones in the museum,” Fyn said, not sounding particularly concerned by this fact.
“Can we shoot at them?”
“Please. Sir.”
Halliwell barked something and three squadrons of fighters shot toward them like dogs released from a leash. They streaked across the turbulent sky, lines of fire erupting from each craft. Contrails from fighters and missiles looked like cornrows against the darkening sky and then automatons, fighters and missiles vanished.
And the whirlwind dropped on them like the wrath of God.
* * * *
A lovesick evil overlord? No, this guy wasn’t capable of love, Robert realized as quick as the thought formed. Love wasn’t selfish. This was about lust. Robert looked at the unconscious, younger version just as he opened his eyes. No anger, just cool calculation. Even trapped, he held it together. Motive. Power and lust? The outpost had given him the means, the portal the opportunity. Motive, means, opportunity might help solve a murder, but this was time the guy was getting ready to FUBAR all of time and every person who had lived or would live. How were they supposed to stop him? Any ideas yet?
Still scanning databanks… Blynken sounded young and almost scared.
Robert stared at the spot where Halane had been, though he managed to watch Faustus, too. Waiting for…what? She flickered into view again, stayed for half a second longer, long enough for Robert to really see her.
“She looks,” Robert hesitated long enough to erase surprise from his tone, “nice.” Still no progress on the expectations problem. What would that woman see in an evil overlord?
“Yes.”
Nothing changed in tone, so why did Robert sense despair in the single syllable? “So, you were like, an item?” That was some Em channeling. Almost he smiled at the thought.
“Friends.” His tone sharpened. “We were—we are friends.”
“Just good friends. Right. I get it.” Before Em, he’d never have been able to mix belief and disbelief in the same sentence.
It earned Robert an annoyed look, but Faustus immediately turned back to his data pad. A pulse began to beat at his neck. He sat, resting the pad on his knee so he could tap with one hand and keep Robert covered with other, but the gun wavered now and again. He’d forgotten Chameleon was dangerous. Robert’s muscles wanted to bunch for the spring—
Not yet. Not from Blynken, no, this thought came from deep inside. Was this how Delilah felt, this homing in on a target, waiting for good tone before striking?
“It can’t be a perfect process. What if you bring back a version of her that doesn’t remember you?” Drip, drip, water on rock, was the hope. Now he channeled a bit of Em and a lot of Delilah. The horizon pulsed slower now and the air felt thick, as if it pushed against an obstacle. “But I suppose she’ll be glad to be back, well, glad when she realizes she was gone. Assuming she believes you—how close were you, did you say? Will she believe you?”
“Halane is not the kind of person to doubt.” The weapon steadied. “I can silence you, if you can’t be quiet.”
“But you don’t want to. You need an audience for your big moment. And not just any audience. You want, have always wanted, the Chameleon to see it.”
“You overestimate your importance.” But the weapon wavered just a bit. “You are nothing but an interesting specimen for me to study later, when my work here is done. I thought you might be interested in the process, but if you can’t be silent, I can stun you. Your choice.”
Specimen. The word chilled but the barrel hadn’t lifted yet. Robert mimed zipping his lips. The small, apparent retreat allowed him to remove one hand from the back of his neck.
“I knew you’d see reason.” Faustus turned his gaze back to the data pad.
Robert lowered his arm to his side. When Faustus didn’t notice, he slipped the weapon out that he’d taken from Smith, and had his hands back behind his head by the time Faustus glanced at him again. Robert felt better with his fingers pressing the weapon to his upper back.
Halane’s image continued to flicker in and out of view, something that appeared to frustrate Faustus. Robert almost spoke, felt a pull back from his Delilah channeling. Wait for it. Let him feel compelled to fill the silence. He’s less likely to shoot you. The silence built, grew heavy. Robert felt Faustus’ growing need to fill it. He shifted once and Robert knew he had him.
“It’s quite a complicated process,” Faustus spoke as if Robert had asked. “There are key points in time, and key places where pressure can be applied. It’s taken me several tries to isolate those times, those places.” He paused. “Time to determine the right people to remove.”
The time pins in the alternate reality.
“You can’t imagine my shock when I realized this outpost is like time’s heart, though I’ve never been able to ascertain why or how. The Garradians either did it or realized its potential, and exploited it. Time spins around it, spirals out from it. If I have timed the impact right this time, well,” Faustus smiled down at the pad, his face glowing pale from the dim light, “then time will spin around me.”
Whatever Robert might have said, or before he could decide if he should speak, the horizon shuddered and dozens of airships popped into view, smoke trails making curved lines outward from cannon mounts on their prows. Steam engine noise mingled with the whistle of incoming cannon fire. Though it looked like it was heading for them, the shots would fall well short of their position.
Faustus’ eyes widened. “No, this is the wrong time.”
The shells hit in an untidy line, well clear of any human targets. A long pause and then smoke—no, gas—erupted like geysers along the impact line. People ran in and out of view, alarms clanged. Faustus rose, paced to the opening of the gazebo.
He’s not afraid of it, just annoyed. What’s the target? Blynken? Silence. Blynken?
Instead of Blynken, they answered with a howl of glee at being loosed from restraint.
FORTY-TWO
Wynken? Nod? Emily couldn’t resist trying to reach the nanites again, still couldn’t believe they were gone, could have used them when facing the bug, but she remained the only voice inside her head, at least the only one talking. The two girls were yelling orders and
doing nothing to help the zombie pins. With a sigh, she eased the mint container out of her pocket and lifted it to eye level. It’s tiny, yet still evil, legs flexed. I’m being very brave. Would have helped if someone noticed. Her lower lip quivered, but she popped the top and started to stick her finger inside—
The ground shuddered almost knocking her off her feet. The horizon shimmered like a movie effect. Multiple shadows roared over them on an intercept course with the automatons. “Space ships.” Fire spurted from them, sending something toward the line of automatons. Even with the bug… “This is the best day ever.”
The shots landed, either on or in front of the automatons, and the line vanished in smoke and flying dirt, shaking her again. This time the mint container flew out of her hand, even as the zombies continued their doomed march toward the battle. She dropped to her knees. Found the container. Of course it was empty. “We have to find it!” She shook it at the two girls. “Help me look for it!”
The two girls stared for several seconds, then dropped to the ground. Both looked surprised they had. Only Carig went so far as to pat the ground.
“Aaugh!” He yanked his hand up and stared at the bug attached to the end.
“You found it! Good job.” His other hand started toward it. “No, don’t do that! It won’t work and you—” Emily’s gaze flicked toward the automatons. It was evil, but if it saved time… “You need to run. That way.” She pointed away from the zombies. Away from the automatons.
Carig glared at her. “Run? I do not run—”
“If you don’t run, the zombies will get you and that thing will turn you into one.” Okay, that was wrong and he probably wouldn’t believe her anyway—
The zombies turned toward them, their bodies falling into the same stance as Carig. He took one look and took off like a rabbit. A girl rabbit. After a pause, the zombies started after him, moving from shambling walk to shambling run. Some stumbled and fell, but got right up again. Glarmere backed a few steps, then he turned and ran.
“That went better than I expected.” She realized she was in the way of the incoming zombies. The ground shook again, the horizon shimmied and this huge, dark, tornado looking thing popped into view. Emily backed and then backed some more, until the zombies shamble/run passed her by. The automaton/space ship battle looked like it was moving her way. She looked around, spotted the gazebo and started toward it at a trot, then broke into a run as the air began to swirl and twist around her. The earthquake crap picked up, too. Kind of reminded her of the weird New York, only worse. The weird part? The ground appeared to shake, but nothing moved except the people. And for an outpost? Not nearly enough people with weapons. A space ship whined past, sounding scary close and she threw herself to the ground, covering her head with her arms. A shadow tracked over her, then turned, and fired. The whine of the missile or space ship firing whatever was away from her, so she lifted her head and looked around. The area around the automatons looked churned up, but she saw some metal rubble that looked promising. She got to her knees, assessed the distance to the gazebo.
And saw Robert inside.
On his knees.
His hands behind his head.
A creepy dude stood pointing a gun at him. A ray gun.
She had to do something. If she only had a gun—
Wait. She did have a gun. Stuck in her corset. At least—yeah, it was still there, well it used to be in her corset. Now it was in her hand. He was so close to Robert, though, if she missed…she’d just have to not miss. She made her mental stand in grim determination and eased the safety off, studied the settings, which meant nothing, since they were in a language she couldn’t read. Two settings. On Earth, low would be the first one, high the second. On the other hand, when one wanted to shoot someone, wouldn’t one want to start with high? What setting had she used to blow up the crate? She was pretty sure it was the first. Probably needed to blow up the bad guy pointing a gun at Robert-oh-my-darling. She bit her lip, and then clicked it onto the second setting. Just in case she missed. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She eased back down onto her stomach, propped her elbows on the ground.
Took aim.
Squeezed the trigger slowly in.
A weird light shot out the barrel.
The horizon did that shimmy thing and a woman appeared on the path right in her line of fire. It hit her in the back. She stumbled forward, then sprawled to the ground. Oops.
* * * *
A couple of demolition specialists inserted charges into the ground around the location of the hidden lab. From what Doc recalled of the data, the lab was closer to the seaside of the hill, only a few feet from the grassy surface. It might have been visible before the outpost was abandoned, and it soon would be again. The two men trotted back to their position, trailing wire, attached it to the plunger. At Doc’s nod, one of them depressed the handle. A satisfying boom followed, turning the neat hillside into a churned up pile of dirt and sod.
“I see something,” Fyn said. He approached cautiously, with his weapon out.
Doc followed on his six, happy to let the expert do what the expert did.
He lowered his weapon, kicked some clods aside with his foot. “Top of something, I’d say.”
Some girls were all about WD-40 for loosening or opening stuff. Doc had a different favorite for that job. “Get out the C-4.”
* * * *
Robert’s knees turned to rubber, but it didn’t matter. He was already on his knees. Only bright spot. Fought the need to fall forward, to curl around them, to tumble back into the half-life Delilah had freed him from…
You are stronger than you think.
The words were a lifeline thrown into a turbulent sea. He grabbed them, held on, held onto the memory of Em. If he lost it now…
Delilah’s memories weren’t all gone. Some had been integrated with his giving him another lifeline to grasp, a path to follow, a way to help him control the mental hell hounds rampaging through his head. He focused on the center of Faustus’ back, while the chaos spun around the spot, then slowly, oh so slowly, faded to a distant roar. Solve the problem you’re facing. Let everything else go. He managed to slow his breathing, though his body felt chilled by a coating of sweat. The slow coalescing of what he’d retained helped, too. He could do this. He had to. Faustus shifted a bit, giving Robert a better view of the data pad. It looked like he was tracking some kind of wave, if the readings were correct, one of tsunami proportions. Nothing like the impossible to sharpen the focus. Even they sat up and went, oh crap.
Faustus turned with a jerk, as if he’d recalled Robert’s presence. Seemed pleased to find him still kneeling. “I begin to think your reputation was over-rated.”
Robert shrugged a bit, it hurt, but also helped him focus. Whatever it took. Faustus gaze narrowed, as if he sensed something off with Robert, but before he could bend his brain to the problem, his data pad beeped and it wasn’t a happy sound. More like a frantic squawk. Faustus looked down. His brows jerked together.
“It should be visible in the stream by now,” he muttered, tapping some things, as if that would make it appear. He looked up, his hand hovering over a button as Halane blinked in and out of view.
She was here. And then she wasn’t. Something had happened to remove Halane from time and now Faustus thought he’d done something to bring her back. But it wasn’t happening like he expected.
“You’re trying to catch her in the shields. But her reality isn’t stable enough.”
Faustus turned toward him. “Not yet. But as my counter wave approaches, her reality should stabilize.”
No sign of stabilizing yet. Unless—Robert wasn’t sure where knowledge came from, Delilah or some residue from the peeps, maybe what he’d learned in the last six month, or all three coming together at the right moment. Whatever it was, he felt the tone ring true. He’d locked on his target.
“Unless that is your wave incoming.” Poking a bear is dangerous, but sometimes required.
; Faustus lifted his cold, dead gaze, let it slam into Robert.
“Maybe there isn’t another wave. Maybe you’ve been battling,” Robert paused because it felt right, “yourself. Maybe you did it. Maybe you made her go away.”
Faustus smiled. “Clever. Perhaps you do deserve some of your reputation.”
The words, the tone, even the smile were right on, but the eyes, they shifted away and down. A righteous shot.
“Time isn’t tidy in the stream. The past, the present, the future,” Robert shifted his gaze toward the airships, then back, “bump and bend together.”
“I know more than you’ll ever know about time.” The tone was less smooth, less amused, more ragged.
“Then where is it? You said it yourself. It should be there.”
“There’s still time—” The data pad squealed again and the air, or maybe it was time, shook. Halane’s image flickered more fitfully, but Faustus had forgotten to watch. Or he knew it was no use. His expression tightened. He leveled the gun at Robert. “I have all the time I want to get it right. I can do this again and again and again, but the next time through it, I’ll have you to play with while I figure it out.”
“You’ve already changed time.” No question he’d poked the bear. Could he break him before he got shot? The horizon shivered again and he saw Em jogging up the rise toward them. Faustus started to turn back to his flickering girlfriend, Robert rushed into speech. “She’s not in the time line anymore. You destroyed her. You’ve blamed everyone and punished people who didn’t deserve it. You’re the problem. Even if you got her back, do you think she’d want you?” The words came from his fears. He knew this, felt his hounds echoing it, trying to take him down. Would Em want him when she found out who and what he was? Because there was no answer, he funneled the emotion, the fear into his attack on Faustus.
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