Ten Thousand Skies Above You

by Claudia Gray

  Dad keeps going. “I myself am experiencing that sort of amnesia right now. I have no idea how you managed to find us in the bombing raid, since of course you were nowhere near Marguerite’s bedroom when this all began. However, I suspect your commanding officer will suffer no such memory lapse if you fail to appear on base shortly.”

  “Right. Yes. Of course.” Theo’s hand steals toward his pocket, and his wallet, which we have to hope contains the address of this military base he’s supposed to report to. “I’ll just, uh, get going. I’m gonna do that. Now.”

  Mom smiles crookedly at him. “Don’t you need your bicycle?”

  Theo looks toward our house, and I glimpse the bike I saw last night. He sighs heavily, and I know he’s wishing for his Pontiac. “Yes, ma’am. Marguerite, I’ll be by later, okay?”

  My only answer is a nod. I’m silenced by the memory of the last words he spoke before the bomb fell—what he wanted to say to me if those were our final moments alive. He smiles slightly, then turns to go.

  Once we walk inside, Mom and Dad act like everything’s normal. For them, this is normal. My father volunteers to make breakfast, while my mother takes the first shower. I just sit at the kitchen table, unable to move or think. The smell of burning still stinks in my nose.

  After only a couple of minutes, I hear the door slam, and heavy boots tromping toward our kitchen. Dad breathes out a sigh of relief.

  Josie strides in, wearing her coverall, a grin on her face. “Hey, looks like we still have a house.”

  “Fortunately,” my dad says. “That’s handy, isn’t it? Otherwise I have no idea where I’d keep my shoes.”

  They’re both pretending all our lives weren’t in danger during the raid; they have to. If they didn’t pretend, the fear would be too much to live with. I haven’t been here long enough to match their bravado, but I muster a smile for my sister.

  Dad gets out a frying pan and spatula. “Genuine scrambled eggs coming up. Last ones for a while, too, so enjoy.”

  “Can’t we trade for some more ration cards?” Josie makes a face. “Reconstituted eggs are so awful.”

  “Don’t be greedy, Josephine. We receive more than most people as it is.” Mom comes into the kitchen, and there is nothing weirder than seeing her in a military blazer, skirt, and necktie.

  As my parents hug each other, and the frying pan sizzles, Josie leans close to me and whispers, “Hey, Mom and Dad might be cutting you a break on the young-love-in-wartime thing, but could you and Theo watch the decibel level? I need my sleep.”

  Oh, my God, my sister heard me having sex, no, no, no. “Sorry.”

  Josie’s already moved on. “You know what we need? Caffeine.”

  “Coming right up,” Dad says, placing mugs of something warm, brown, and steaming in front of us. But the smell is all wrong. Whatever he just gave me, it isn’t real coffee. When I take a sip, the stuff’s so bitter I have to force myself to swallow.

  “Maybe you should cut down on coffee, Marguerite,” Josie deadpans. “You don’t seem to be sleeping well lately.”

  Mom comes to the rescue—deliberately or not, I don’t care. “Was it at least good flying this morning?”

  “Better believe it,” Josie says. As she keeps talking, I realize my sister isn’t just in the military. She’s a freaking fighter pilot.

  At first that seems impossibly strange, but then it doesn’t. My big sister is the definition of a thrill seeker. Surfing, snowboarding, zip-lining—if you have to sign a liability waiver before you do it, Josie thinks it’s fun. No matter how much this dimension has changed, my sister still found a way to get her adrenaline rush.

  “I wish someone would call us about the lab,” Dad mutters as he works with the eggs.

  “Phone lines are probably down,” Mom points out. “They’ll send someone. Until then, it’s no use worrying about it.”

  She always says that, back home. My dad answers like he always does: “I don’t worry because it’s useful. I worry because I can’t help it.”

  Mom pats his shoulder. “Just eat breakfast.”

  “Come on, Dad.” I want him to stop talking about the war. I want him to sit down and make bad jokes over our meal, like he always does. It seemed so strange when they all first started pretending we’d never been in any danger, but now I wish they’d go back to it.

  They don’t. “We’ve got to move forward,” Dad says as he puts my mom’s eggs on her plate. He’s talking to her, not me. “We could do more theoretical work, but if the Firebird project is ever going to help the war effort—we must build a prototype soon.”

  Mom nods. “I know. We’ll have to start tomorrow. We’d be ordered to within the week in any case. I doubt the generals would be willing to wait any longer.”

  “You can do it, Sophie,” Dad says. “We’ll make this happen. It’s our last chance.”

  That’s when it hits me. Conley sent me here to sabotage my parents’ work on the Firebirds. I can’t get Paul back any other way. I can’t cure Theo.

  But if I steal that technology from my family in this dimension—I might be condemning them all to death.

  Someone knocks on the door. “That will be someone from the lab,” Mom says.

  I get to my feet before she can. “I’ll get it.” Right now I just need to do something. Anything.

  Or so I believe, until I open the front door, and Paul is standing there.

  8

  PAUL SITS IN MY FAMILY’S LIVING ROOM, ON THE MOST uncomfortable chair. He took off his uniform hat when he walked inside, but otherwise he could have stepped right off a recruiting poster. The navy-blue jacket frames his broad shoulders; his trousers are sharply creased. Even his shoes shine. His posture is so rigidly straight I wonder if his back hurts.

  I want to run to him, use the reminder and capture this second splinter of Paul’s soul—halfway there! Almost done!—but I can’t. In this dimension, he and my parents know what Firebirds are; they’d understand what I was doing, and that I was from another universe. In other words, I’d be busted.

  The warm rapport I’m used to between Mom, Dad, and Paul is absent now. Here, my parents appear to be his superior officers, no more.

  “What about our electron microscope?” Mom asks.

  “Minor damage,” Paul says. “Or damage that would be minor, if we could get the replacement parts more swiftly.”

  Dad puts his head in his hands. “Bloody hell.”

  “It’s all right, Henry. We can still run the resonance test. But not here.” It’s weird, seeing my mother act so official, especially with Paul. “Lieutenant, is the San Francisco facility ready?”

  Paul nods. “Very nearly, ma’am. I could travel into the city tomorrow to personally supervise the modifications. Within five days or so, we’d be ready. A week at most.”

  “Then we should review the plans,” Mom says. “Normally we’d do this on base, but I trust you won’t object if we meet here today, Lieutenant Markov.”

  Even though this is an entirely different universe, an entirely different Paul, something in my heart still sings when I hear those two words: Lieutenant Markov.

  Couldn’t I reclaim this splinter of his soul? If Mom and Dad figured out what I was doing, would that be so terrible?

  Yes, it would. My heart sinks, imagining my parents’ reaction. This is a world at war; I am an invader, one wearing their daughter’s skin. If they reported me to the authorities, I could wind up in a military prison. Regardless, once they knew I was a traveler from another dimension, I would have no chance to sabotage their work. If I can’t prove I did that when I go to Triad’s home office, Conley won’t give me the final coordinates, or the cure for Theo.

  “Of course not, ma’am. I’ll set up at this table.” Paul reaches for the stuff lying in front of him—my sketchpad, open to the portrait of Theo. He hesitates. “That is—if you wouldn’t mind, Miss Caine.”

  Miss Caine?

  “No, it’s fine.” I step forward to take my art suppl
ies myself. My hand brushes against his, an accidental touch, but Paul reacts to it. His eyes search mine, hoping for meaning.

  The look in his eyes is one I know. One it took me a long time to interpret. But once I understood him, I could never miss that look again.

  He loves me. At the very least, he cares about me deeply. And obviously Paul and I have known each other for a long time in this dimension.

  So why is it still “Lieutenant Markov” and “Miss Caine”?

  More than that—if Paul is here, in my life, why am I with Theo?

  Our home turns into a makeshift physics lab, which for me is nothing new. But my parents aren’t as warm and welcoming in this universe. Not that they’re unfriendly to Paul or anything; everyone is almost excruciatingly polite as they work. But the warmth my parents showed to Paul from the very beginning, the affection that led them to bake his birthday cake and buy him a decent winter coat—in this dimension, I see no sign of that. Maybe this is the difference between a university setting and the military. The professors who would befriend you in a graduate program have to keep their distance when they’re your superior officers.

  While they’re crunching numbers, I’m left with nothing to do. Word comes that the munitions factory where I work was destroyed in the air raid, which is an enormous relief. Me building bombs? That would’ve been a recipe for disaster. The way Dad tells me this, it’s obvious he expects me to receive another duty assignment soon. But “soon” is not “today,” so my day is my own.

  Normally, I spend any free time in a new dimension searching for background information. That means web pages or other, more sophisticated sources in universes that have developed that far; in universes not quite so far along, I turn to books. Mom and Dad almost always have plenty lying around, because they’re curious about everything from the ancient Incas to origami. In this world, however, it seems that paper is rationed as strictly as everything else. No encyclopedias or histories are to be had. My parents own only a handful of books, most of them novels. Even reading those might tell me something—but would I be able to figure out what’s true and what’s fiction in each one? So instead of obtaining vital facts for my mission, I wind up reading a Jane Austen novel called The Brothers. I don’t think we have that one in my universe, though, so at least that’s something.

  Late in the afternoon, as they’re taking a break for a fairly depressing snack of canned peaches, my mother draws me aside. “You’re not ill at ease, are you?”

  “Um, no?”

  “I realize how awkward the situation is for everyone involved,” Mom continues. “Lieutenant Markov is essential to our work, and we have to work at home today, so there’s no way around it.”

  She seems to expect a response. “Okay.”

  “He’s handling his disappointment well, really. That’s all we can ask. I just hope it doesn’t put you in a difficult position.”

  It sounds like Paul tried to get me to go out with him and I said no.

  Why would I say no?

  “It’s all right,” I say to her. “Paul’s a good guy. I know he’ll always do the right thing in the end.”

  Mom stares at me like I just told her ostriches orbit Pluto. Is it because I slipped up and called him Paul? After a moment, though, she nods. “Sometimes I forget how insightful you are.”

  I hug her, remembering the long weeks when I was trapped in dimensions where she was already dead. Traveling through the worlds gives you perspective. It makes you value what you have.

  Just at nightfall, while the ad hoc scientific conference is still under way, the doorbell chimes again. Dad answers before I can. “Why, Private Beck. I don’t think I’ve seen you in ages.”

  “Good evening, sir. Is Marguerite at home?” Theo catches sight of me and lights up like sunrise. He’s playing his role in this universe a little too well.

  Still, the roles have to be played. “Theo,” I say as I go to him. He pulls me into his arms, an embrace so fervent, so intimate, that I can’t deal with the fact that my parents are watching this. In Theo’s ears, I whisper, “That’s enough.”

  “For now,” he says in a low voice.

  This isn’t my Theo.

  The Theo from this universe—the one who’s been to bed with Marguerite, the one who loves her—that’s who’s holding me now.

  I manage to part us without actually shoving him against the wall. My parents studiously stare down at their equations. From his chair, Paul watches us, then ducks his head when he realizes I’ve seen him.

  “How did the telemetry systems fare in the raid, Private Beck?” My mother asks him this without ever looking up from her work.

  “Very well, Dr. Caine,” Theo says. Huh, so my parents got around to getting married in this universe. Good to know. “In the first rush—for a moment, it felt as though I didn’t even remember how I’d gotten back to base. Strange.”

  That’s because my Theo was in charge during that trip; this Theo’s consciousness didn’t reclaim his body until afterward. He must have spaced out the reminders like I told him to.

  “We didn’t take too much damage,” Theo continues. “I’ve reviewed the entire system. We’ll be back to full capacity by tomorrow.”

  “Have you eaten dinner?” Mom says. She’s being a bit cool—probably because she remembers us running out of the house half-dressed last night. “I can’t offer you much beyond cheese on toast, because we’re at the low end of our rations. But it’s yours if you want it.”

  “I ate already. Just wanted to talk with Marguerite for a bit.”

  Dad waves us off. “Fine. Go on out back.”

  Out back? Theo seems to know what this means, though; he takes my hand and leads us toward the rear of the house. As we go, Paul watches us, his gray eyes yearning—no. Hungry. Then he sees my mother looking at him, and returns his attention to the papers on the table.

  I love our back deck at home, with its silly tropical-fish lights and the yard that slopes so sharply you can’t even set up a lawn chair. I love the way it’s ringed by tall trees, making it seem as though our house in the Berkeley Hills isn’t crammed into an overpopulated neighborhood; instead, I feel like we’re cut off from the rest of the world, in a quiet, peaceful place of our own.

  In this dimension? No such luck. We have no back deck, only the one tree. Instead, there’s a few inches of concrete that has to count as a patio, and one rickety bench. But from the way Theo pulls me down next to him on that bench, this must be our favorite place.

  “I missed you today,” he whispers, and he draws me close.

  My whole body flushes, but I manage to hold him back. “Wait.”

  When I pull the Firebird from his uniform jacket, Theo stares. “What the hell is that?”

  “You’ll see,” I say, punching in the sequence that will activate a reminder.

  The charge jolts him. Theo swears under his breath and pushes himself away from me. After a couple of deep breaths, his eyes go wide. He’s my Theo again. “Whoa.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I was like—I was in my body, but I wasn’t. Like sleepwalking while you’re awake. That is the weirdest thing I have ever—ever—wow.” Theo shakes his head, as if trying to clear it. “How do you deal with this?”

  “It doesn’t happen to me,” I remind him. “I’m always in control, no matter what world I’m in.”

  “Nice work if you can get it.” Theo takes a deep breath, then refocuses. “What exactly happened inside?”

  Since Theo’s not a perfect traveler, he doesn’t remember what happens during his journeys quite as clearly as I do. So maybe he’s forgotten the passionate embrace. Or he’s pretending to. Either way, I’m grateful. “Nothing much. You came to see me, Mom and Dad pretended you weren’t here this morning, and sent us out here.”

  Theo says, “That was Paul with your parents, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you go after him? Rescue that splinter of his soul?”

&nbs
p; “Because I have to be in contact with him to do that,” I say, blushing again. “Close contact. It’s not like I can tackle him in the middle of the living room.”

  Theo frowns. “What if that’s what it takes?”

  “Of course, if I have to, I will. But if I start acting weird before we get into Mom and Dad’s computer systems, they might figure out something is up.” I hook one finger around the two Firebird chains at my neck. “Remember, it’s hard for people from another dimension to see our Firebirds, but they can, particularly if they know to look for them. In this world, they know.”

  “Right, right. I’ve got it.” Theo hesitates, then says, “I thought—I figured you couldn’t know him yet, in this universe. Paul.”

  “Well, I do know him,” I say as lightly as I can.

  My casual attitude doesn’t fool Theo for a minute. “Am I allowed to feel good about this?”

  “About what, exactly?”

  His eyes are dark, unfathomable. “About the fact that there’s at least one world in the multiverse where you picked me.”

  I’m grateful for the darkness around us. Maybe that keeps him from seeing how flustered I am. “I—it’s like you guys always said. In an infinite multiverse, everything that can happen, does happen.”

  “So this—you and me—we were in the realm of possibility? Not sure how that makes me feel.” Theo stares up at the sky. Maybe lights are turned down, for fear of more bombers, because I can see every star above. “Probably you never even met Paul before today.”

  I ought to agree with him and move on. Instead, I tell the truth. “No, I know him. And he—he cares about me. I can tell.”

  “Poor bastard.” When I look at him, Theo shrugs, but he’s no better at faking casual than I am. “Being in love with a girl who doesn’t love you back? It sucks. I’d know.”

  There’s nothing I can possibly say in reply.

  “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. So I definitely wouldn’t wish it on Paul.” Theo hesitates, then moves us along to a new subject. “Listen, when I was on base, I tried using the military computers to get at the Firebird data. No luck. Maybe that’s just because I’m not part of the project, but I figure your parents are as security-conscious as ever.”