All Our Tomorrows

by All Our Tomorrows (epub)

  “Sure.” She shot Noah a warm smile. “Honey, can we swap out this Reor slab for a fresh one?”

  “We can. I was getting bored, anyway.”

  “And we can’t have that.” One of the techs came over to remove the used slab while Noah left to retrieve a fresh sample.

  Alex’s hand rested briefly at the small of Caleb’s back. “I’m going to go grab a lemonade. Kennedy will walk you through the process.”

  He still looked a little perplexed, but he nodded. “Okay.”

  She cast a last curious glance back at Caleb, the slab being removed from the enclosure, and the new one Noah and the second tech carried in, then exited the lab.

  The gelato shop was to the left, but she went right instead. Until they figured out this puzzle, she didn’t particularly want to engage in awkward speculation with Nika. Kyoseil was quite possibly the most confounding intelligence they’d ever encountered, and hours upon hours of talking about it hadn’t yielded any practical insights.

  As she requested a lemonade from the drink station, she mused on what Mesme would have to say, or more likely obfuscate, about the mineral’s current behavioral wrinkle. The Kat had always been even more cagey than usual when it came to Reor/kyoseil. Mesme claimed to not be able to converse with the mysterious life form, but it clearly knew a great deal about its nature, having spent millennia nurturing and protecting multiple colonies of it.

  She’d barely made a dent in the lemonade when Kennedy pulsed her to tell her she should return straightaway. Curiosity piqued anew, she jogged back down two halls and into the lab.

  “I’ll be damned!”

  At Kennedy’s exclamation, she skidded to a stop halfway to the test enclosure. Caleb was staring at the Reor inside, his brow furrowed tight, as the needle plier gently extracted several centimeters of filament.

  “What happened? Did it work?”

  Kennedy propped her chin on her palm. “Only just now. The whole thing played out the same way it did with you. When Caleb sent the signal, the Reor loosened up and gave a bit, but not enough to extract any of the kyoseil. Then you walked in, and it melted away.” Kennedy gestured grandly to the enclosure. “It’s as if when one of you is present, the Reor is of a friendly inclination, but remains suspicious. It takes both of you in proximity for it to get comfortable enough to relinquish its prize.”

  Caleb gave her a playful smile. “We are sort of a matched set these days.”

  “We definitely are.” She went up to him and squeezed his hand, uncomfortably relieved to still be in the game. “I’ll let Nika know they can come back in now. We’ve got results, if not exactly answers—” She cut herself off as an unexpected pulse arrived.

  Her grip on Caleb’s hand tightened, and he gave her his full attention. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need to go. Kennedy, tell Nika I’m sorry, but we need to go.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “I’ll tell you when I know.”

  Luckily, after the attack on Chalmun Station, she’d reverse-engineered Devon’s passcode to create herself a hopefully permanent backdoor past HQ’s security protocols. In less than five seconds, she’d opened a wormhole in the middle of the lab, and she and Caleb hurried through it.

  40

  * * *

  EARTH

  Vancouver

  Malcolm slipped unobtrusively past the pedestrian traffic and through the open glass doors of A Later Latte. Business was light in the lull between lunch and dinner, and he spotted his contact sitting at the counter along the left wall. He paused long enough to orient his mind to the task at hand, then crossed the café.

  “Philippe?”

  The man spun around on his stool when he saw Malcolm. “You made it.”

  Malcolm shook the man’s hand and slid onto the stool beside him. “Thank you for agreeing to meet for coffee. I’m afraid my schedule is packed at the moment, and I can only grab a few free minutes here and there, when I’m lucky enough to be planetside at all.”

  “Of course. You’re out there fighting to protect all of us from a terrifying enemy. You have my gratitude, and I appreciate any time you can fit in for the Gardiens.”

  Beaumont waited while the server took their orders before continuing. “Since you can’t attend the meeting tonight, I wanted to touch base with you and see if you had any questions about our mission. I understand if you’re not ready to go public with your feelings about regenesis, but a man in your position can wield influence in a number of ways. If I can allay any concerns you have and make it easier for you to support our cause, I’m eager to do so.”

  Malcolm kept a neutral expression on his face, but it irked him to no end how these people were trying to play him. They could have simply pitched their case in a straightforward, open manner and likely would have found a sympathetic audience. This sale pitch, though, was too smooth by half.

  “Whatever my personal qualms, no, I’m not prepared to voice public support for you at this time. I work with several people who have undergone regenesis and—”

  “Ah, yes. The Commandant.”

  “Obviously. Right now, winning the war against the Rasu is my highest priority, and sowing internal discord within the ranks will make achieving victory more difficult. But…” he tried to choose his words with care, though it wasn’t one of his best skills “…for personal and religious reasons, I am sympathetic to the Gardiens’ cause, at least in principle. I suppose I’m still at the ‘am interested in knowing more’ stage. If I can get comfortable with your goals and your chosen methods to achieve them, perhaps in the future I can…introduce you to people who can help. Open some doors for you.”

  Beaumont’s eyes lit up in delight, highlighting their artificiality, and the man may need to wipe a little drool off his mouth soon. “Absolutely. I’ll have someone prepare an information packet specifically for you—it will contain a lot of information we don’t give out to regular members. Then, after you review it, I can try to arrange a meeting with several of our local leaders. If you’d be amenable to such a meeting?”

  The server arrived with their coffees, giving him a second to construct an appropriate response. He needed to be encouraging, but not too eager.

  “I appreciate you making an extra effort on my behalf. Your openness itself is reassuring. Send me the packet, and we’ll go from there. It might be a few days before I can give it the time it deserves, so don’t take my silence for rejection.” He snapped the travel lid on the coffee he hadn’t touched. “Now, I apologize for cutting this so short, but the politicians are waiting.”

  “And then the Rasu. I understand.” Beaumont stood and offered his hand.

  As Malcolm shook it again, he pretended to get jostled by a man passing the counter. His grip slipped enough for him to affix a tiny listener dot to the inside of Beaumont’s sleeve.

  “Good luck with the meeting tonight.” He grabbed his coffee and strode out of the cafe.

  Malcolm was getting out of the shower when his eVi alerted him to the arrival of a substantial quantity of data from the listener dot. He was surprised; he’d intended for it to record the Gardiens meeting tonight and any potential discussions among the leadership afterward.

  He had a working dinner with Miriam and several high-level EA politicians in London this evening, so he set the playback to run while he retrieved his uniform and began getting dressed.

  “The meeting with our recruit today went well enough, I think. He’s playing coy, which is understandable, given his position. I promised to send him some material that should set the hook and whet his appetite for all we can offer.”

  “I’ll see to it the information is massaged for maximum benefit. Get it to him, and then we’ll wait. We can dance this dance as long as is needed.”

  Malcolm groaned. He’d known he was being played, but it stung to have it confirmed. Did they believe him so gullible? What manner of fool did they take him for?

  He recognized the second voice as the man on ho
lo after the meeting he’d attended. This one seemed to be in charge, at a minimum of the Gardiens’ Earth branch.

  “Is our man in London in place and ready to go?”

  His hands stopped with his jacket half-fastened. London?

  Beaumont answered. “Yes, sir. The target is meeting in a closed-door session with the Assembly Armed Forces Committee this afternoon London time, then attending a private working dinner with the Committee Chairman, the EA Defense Secretary and—” and him “— the Fleet Admiral at a restaurant in the St. James neighborhood. Research into her habits indicates a high likelihood that she will walk from the Assembly to the restaurant.”

  “Unaccompanied?”

  “She values her independence, as well as regular spans of solitude. Our man will be positioned to hit her during the walk, but if for some reason she deviates from the expected behavior, he’ll be able to intercept her when she enters or departs the restaurant.”

  “This plan leaves a lot to chance.”

  Beaumont stammered. “Ah—our man is quite talented.”

  “I’m certain he is. Nonetheless, remind him that no matter what, this cannot look like an assassination. If her death presents as anything other than a neurological system failure, it will hurt our mission rather than help it. We need to call into question the safety of regenesis, not produce yet another success story.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll reiterate the parameters to our man immediately.”

  “Do it. We’ll talk again later tonight, after it’s done.”

  Malcolm had abandoned all attempts at dressing to pace in agitation around his bedroom. The ‘target’ had to be Miriam, if only because she was the sole person both testifying before the Armed Forces Committee today and attending the dinner tonight. And a Gardiens hitman was planning to assassinate her on the street, in such a way that didn’t suggest assassination. If the intent was to cast doubt on the safety of regenesis, they’d probably use a laced dart to mimic a stroke or neural seizure of some kind.

  He checked the time. He’d planned to arrive in London just before the dinner, and the clock was ticking fast. Miriam was already locked in the top-secret Committee meeting at the Assembly. He should alert Assembly Security and ensure she was taken to a secure location when the meeting concluded.

  But how did the Gardiens know about the meeting at all? Its mere existence was classified, and the protocols kept it off both public and private schedules. Did they have a plant in the Assembly, possibly even on the Committee? Or inside Assembly Security itself? It would be almost impossible for the Gardiens to have learned of the meeting otherwise.

  Who could he trust, and who could move fast enough to prevent the hit?

  It felt like a battlefield decision, and he made it with concomitant speed. He could move fast enough; he’d worry about the rest later.

  He hastily finished fastening his uniform, threw some additional clothes in a backpack and rushed out the door.

  London

  The Caeles Prism from AEGIS Earth Headquarters deposited Malcolm in the Dignitary Suite on the Assembly grounds. He returned several salutes, allowed himself to be scanned by security, then exited into the towering hallways of the ancient building.

  He entered the first lavatory he came to and locked himself in a stall. Out came the extra clothes he’d packed: navy running pants, a dark gray hooded sweatshirt and running shoes. He hurriedly changed, cringing as he stuffed his dress uniform into the backpack. Hopefully the home steamer would get the mess of wrinkles out later. It was definitely no longer appropriate attire for a formal dinner, but he was also no longer expecting to attend any such dinner. He hadn’t commed ahead to cancel, though, since he still didn’t know whom to trust. He’d send his apologies later.

  He pulled the hood up over his head and exited the lavatory, then headed straight for the entrance. His rapid pace and the hood meant that no one got a close enough look to identify him, and in ninety seconds he was outside.

  He started jogging, which was entirely in character with his appearance and also necessary because time was incredibly short. If the schedule had held, the Committee meeting ended ten minutes ago and Miriam would be on her way to the restaurant. But when did Committee meetings ever wrap up on time?

  Pedestrian traffic was heavy on Parliament Street, so much so that he almost missed Miriam exiting the ornate gates marking the Assembly grounds and entering the flow of people.

  He jostled his way through the passersby to catch up to her, while trying not to draw attention to himself. The benefit of his attire was that to any onlooker or potential tail, he was just a regular guy out for a jog. The downside was that, without the trappings of his office on display, no one was inclined to get out of his way!

  He grumbled in frustration and risked a faster pace to close the distance until he got within half a block of Miriam. Then he slowed to match the flow of traffic, plus about five percent.

  But only another half-kilometer remained to the restaurant; he had to reach her now. He focused on the ebb and flow of the pedestrians, slipping forward as unobtrusively as possible, all while scanning the surrounding rooftops and windows for snipers. Tactically, this was a nightmare scenario, for dozens of accessible vantage points decorated the landscape in every direction.

  Finally he drew close enough to reach her. Without knowing where the sniper was located, he settled for blocking her back and the road-facing side of her body as he leaned in close. “Keep walking. Someone’s trying to assassinate you.”

  Her gait hitched for half a step but no more, and she didn’t turn around, instead identifying him on voice alone. “Malcolm?”

  “Yes. Take the next left—here. Quickly.”

  They both veered down a smaller side street. “Keep going. Next left again.”

  He wanted to relax now that they were out of line-of-sight of the main thoroughfare, but they were so very far from safety.

  As they took the next left, a reflection on his right shoulder caught his attention. A long, tiny needle had bisected the loose material of his hood. He carefully reached up and pinched the shaft between two fingertips—the needle disintegrated into fine dust and vanished. Dammit!

  No one was visible on Warwick House, and Miriam pulled up short and pivoted to him. “Malcolm, I order you to tell me what is going on this instant.”

  “As soon as we’re out of harm’s way. I promise.” The next part of the plan had started to coalesce in his subconscious as he’d traversed the streets, and he sent a pulse.

  Alex, I need an emergency wormhole exit. London, St. James neighborhood, near Pall Mall and Warwick House.

  What? Why?

  Your mother’s in danger, and we need to get out of London. Please, now.

  41

  * * *

  EARTH

  London / Greater Vancouver

  In the narrow space between two buildings, the air shimmered and tore apart, and Alex and Caleb stepped through the tear onto the London street. Alex didn’t so much as glance at Malcolm; her focus went straight to her mother. “Mom, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Miriam shot Malcolm a steely glare, and he tried not to wilt beneath it. “I still don’t know what’s happening here, which is a situation that needs to be rectified immediately.”

  “As I said, as soon as we reach a secure location, I’ll explain everything.” Or what I know, which is nothing. He checked the wormhole, where on the other side waited the pristine metal and glass of a Concord lab. “Not to HQ, though. We need somewhere private.”

  “We’ll go to Mom’s house.” Alex flicked her hand; the wormhole closed, and an instant later, a new one replaced it. The sage green of conifers solidified through the forming tear, and as soon as it was wide enough, Malcolm propelled everyone through the opening with as much dignity as the situation allowed.

  He breathed a weighty sigh of relief when the wormhole closed and the soothing breeze of the British Columbia mountains enveloped them.

  David
appeared at the front door of the house, wiping his hands on a dishrag. “Miri? Alex? What’s going on?”

  Miriam’s expression would instill healthy terror in any God-fearing Marine, including Malcolm. It was possible he’d pushed her a hair too far, but he hadn’t had a choice. She started taking off her uniform jacket as she stomped up the stairs to the porch. “Let’s all go inside, and I daresay we’ll finally get to find out.”

  Malcolm grabbed Alex by the arm before she followed her mother up the stairs. “Can you get Richard here? He needs to hear everything I have to say.”

  “Okay.” Her countenance was guarded, but he knew her well enough to see the burgeoning concern beneath it. “We’ll meet you inside.” She moved back a meter and opened another wormhole, then stepped through it.

  Next, he got Caleb’s attention. “Listen, as soon as Alex returns, I need you to return to where we were in London. An assassin was sent to take out Miriam somewhere between the Assembly grounds and the restaurant where we were scheduled to have dinner at Waterloo Place. Before the trail gets cold, see if you can find any evidence the shooter might have left behind.”

  Marano regarded him with a touch of frustration. “That’s not much to work with.”

  “I’m sorry. Um, they fired a needle dart, not a laser or a slug. It hit me instead and got caught in my hood, which means it probably was fired from…” he cast his mind back to the scene, but without knowing precisely when the dart had embedded itself in his hood, he could only speculate about its source “…I can’t say with any confidence. But they knew the route she’d be taking from the Assembly to the restaurant and planned to hit her as she walked the streets.”

  “All right. I’m on it.” Caleb jerked his head toward the house. “You had better get in there and start talking, before Miriam demotes you to corporal.”