“Do you believe we have souls? That death is just another part of life?”
Kira shook her head. “No.”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears, and she took a sharp breath. “I do. How can you go on, thinking that’s the end?”
“I don’t know. I just think about everyone who needs protecting, and the problem just resolves itself. From now on, you’re under my protection. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ll be safe here for now. Expect a decision in the next few days.” Lt. Kira Watson headed for the door. Emily tried to look defiant, but silently she was crying.
“And your Majesty?” said Kira. “I really am sorry.”
That twilight, Princess Emily Montag walked through the cold halls of the empty palace, sobbing. Both her parents had died when she was young, but that, oddly enough, had been easier to handle. Her brother had stepped in to take care of her, shielding her from the worst of the disaster. He’d guided the entire world as well; her parents died during the falling-sickness epidemic, and everyone had been as frightened as her. Now she felt utterly alone.
Very few things were ever known for sure, but she knew one thing now: she could never speak to her brother again, never hear his laughter, never see him smiling in the sun. No one could protect her.
London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady, she thought.
She was the last of Dimitri Reynolds’s descendants, and she had met more than enough politicians to know which ones were deceiving her and which ones could be trusted a little. Lt. Kira Watson meant well, but her promises meant nothing.
All at once, she was the easiest and most desirable target from anyone who wanted the throne. Who could protect her from an attack on her life, when no one had seen her brother’s assassination coming?
She walked past the portraits of her forefathers for a long time, but had only the silence of the long hallway for her companion.
5.
Ariel returned to the ship early that evening, while Zoë was out. When Thomas saw her walk in, he brightened and dropped the book he’d been perusing on his e-reader.
“I thought of another question for you,” he said. “If time travel exists, how come we never see time travelers all over the place?”
She pulled off her sunglasses and sat down on the sofa. “We stay hidden, only reveal ourselves if necessary. If people recognize someone who’s out of their time, they’re much more likely to think he’s a ghost than a time traveler.”
“Okay, so how does your machine really work? I mean, time travel—that’s not on the same level as moving a few gears.”
She pulled out her pocket watch, then handed it to him. “I’m not sure. I’ve never broken one open to check. The large clock sets the second, minute and hour; the other dials are for day, month and year.”
He examined it. The “day” dial inset was numbered from 1 to 31; it also had a sun and moon on it, with the moon faded and the sun shining. The year read 002507; the month, of course, was JUNE. The copper casing looked a bit tarnished, and the watch’s face seemed faded and yellowed, as if it were centuries old. But perhaps that was part of the disguise.
“I can set it instantly by touch,” she explained. “It’s mildly telepathic. Jude was born in Florence, and he swears he can only see the months in Italian.”
“Uh-huh. How do you go over distances?”
“Like I said, traveling through time is, by definition, traveling over a distance. It just lets me appear in the right place.” She looked at his e-reader. “What are you reading?”
“Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut.”
“Really? I’ve been wanting to meet him.”
“Most people just plan vacations,” he said dryly.
She shrugged. “I’ll be right back.” She got up and walked over into the kitchen.
Thomas glanced over at the tinted sunglasses she’d left on a table. What were those for, anyway? Probably just a fashion in her time.
He walked over and picked up the glasses, turning them over in the light. Partially reflective. Completely flat lenses. Feeling curious, he slipped them on.
He blinked and saw the room around him filtered in a lime green. Then with a click, he felt like a storm rushed into his head through his eyes.
The room evaporated into shades of blue and red lines, with information feeding into his brain. Temperature and the contents of the air. He could see his hands in front of him, and then the bones and veins and muscles under the skin; he could see under objects and behind them.
And the sound! He heard voices and music so loud that a concert might as well be blasting in his ears. He closed his eyes; darkness and silence. Then he opened them, and he could see individual electric charges and feel the turn of the earth and the pull of the sun. Then he started to see things he knew he could not have experienced; he saw flashes of beaches, of buildings destroyed by his time, and of a young Dimitri Reynolds—
A moment later he was lying on the floor, staring at the metal framework of the ceiling. Ariel stood over him, the glasses in her hand.
“Green isn’t your color,” she said dryly.
He sat up, gasping, his mind still reeling from the information overload. “What happened?”
“You were screaming. What did you see?”
“Ariel, I could see everything. Images. I could see through walls, through objects. Oh my God, I can’t even describe it. I think I could even see your memories.”
Ariel sat down, perplexed.
“That was it, all along! You knew what I was dreaming, you ‘heard’ information you couldn’t have—because you were reading minds. And Damien!” His eyes lit up. “He told you he killed the king, but you heard his mind saying ‘no’! Ariel, where on earth did you get those?”
She closed her eyes, then leaned her head back. “The third millennium … where people are telepathic.”
“Oh my God,” he said. “Tell me Jamie doesn’t have those sunglasses.”
Ariel averted her eyes.
He ran a hand through his hair. “He could know everything about me.”
“Maybe not. Thomas, you have to understand, I never knew those could do that.”
“Then why wear them?”
“Good luck charm? I don’t know. They look cool. I never got lost while wearing them. But I never saw what you were describing. You really looked through walls? Read my thoughts?”
“Ariel, you were born in 1989. I was born in 2481. Think of how much the human brain has changed in that span of time. Maybe you can get a wisp of it, but I can get the full effect. I can tell if people are lying—”
“No. You can’t use them.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not just because you’re a journalist. They’re not meant to be here, Thomas. It was overflowing your mind, overloading your nervous system. People in five hundred years will know how to use them. You don’t.”
“Jamie wears them.”
“He didn’t have a brain injury.”
He stared at her, exasperated. “Ariel, the things I could do! I could read Kira’s mind and find out what really happened to me—”
“—and then you’d short-circuit your brain. No. No way.”
He glared at her.
They heard a ringing, and Ariel pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. At least, he thought it was a phone: he had never seen anything like it. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” she said, and slipped out to answer it.
Thomas sat back, hearing the murmur of a one-sided conversation in the next room. He was still reeling from the full impact of the glasses when she returned a moment later, her face ashen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Jude. He … he went missing. Signal’s gone dark. I told you the Celestials had started tracking me? Bailey thinks they arrested him.”
“So let’s go.”
“No. Not you.” She pulled out her pocket watch. “He was investigating the Celestials four years ago. I can’t risk you crossing your time line.”
> “So what are you going to do? Break him out of prison?”
She slipped on the lime-colored glasses. “You used to work for them. What would they do to a prisoner with information they want, one reluctant to give it up?”
He faltered. “Ariel—”
“He’s the reason I’m a time traveler. But Thomas, if I never come back…” She looked at him. “Then I think you’ll know what happened.”
If she was reading his mind then, she didn’t show it. Thomas opened his mouth to tell her to stop, but she was already gone.
Chapter Eight
June 12, 2503
The Lunitron, an elegant white ship, completed an orbit around the Earth.
The vessel served as a docking and refueling station for many Celestial ships and probes throughout the solar system. About a hundred soldiers lived on board, monitoring flights or working behind closed doors on projects unknown to civilians.
The ship, under the control of Captain Delacroix, wound down for the night. By midnight, only a skeleton crew worked, most of them monitoring the security systems. The halls lay empty.
Ariel passed through a corridor, her boots clinking on the grated metal floor. The vents hissed as steam appeared, replenishing the area with oxygen, and a blue light glowed by each door.
She slid on an earpiece. “I’m in.”
“The prisoners’ cells should be right up ahead,” came Bailey’s voice through the radio com. Ariel couldn’t see her, but she imagined Bailey sitting in front of a computer, tense, watching the screen. “They’re very well-guarded. Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Absolutely,” Ariel whispered. “Nothing’s going to stop me.”
She crept down the hall, then froze when she heard a sound.
A Proteus repair-bot wheeled through the hall, making a whirring sound as it went. It scanned for life, then moved on. Ariel slid out of a closet, brushed herself off, then turned to step into the dim hallway.
She found herself face-to-face with a Celestial officer with pale blue eyes. He held a blaster in his left hand.
“Ah, you’re very quiet,” she said, taking a step back. “Captain Delacroix, is it? Now I see where you got your déjà vu.”
The captain raised his blaster.
“One more shot and I’m gone,” she warned. “And I think you’d want to hear what I have to say.”
Delacroix took a step. “We thought someone would come for him. Who are you? Obviously you have some form of teleporting device.”
“Yes, I do. Why did you arrest Jude?”
“Is that your friend’s name? He was accessing confidential files about our global security agencies. Tsk, tsk. That’s a serious crime.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“Oh, you’ll have a chance to do that.”
Two guards slipped into the hall, both armed. Ariel eyed them warily.
“Captain,” she said, “you run this starship. The pride of the Federation, yes, but a ship. In one year out of thousands. Do you know how utterly insignificant that makes you? How tiny you are to me? This isn’t a war, this isn’t an attack, and this isn’t a game. He doesn’t belong here, and he’ll never come back. Let him go.”
“Arrest her,” said Delacroix.
Ariel pressed the top of the watch and vanished.
Delacroix pulled the ship’s main alarm, alerting all guards, and pressed a button on a hallway control panel. “There’s an intruder headed for the security cells. Red hair, young. Couldn’t have been more than eighteen. I want her found.”
He put a hand to his forehead, as if he had a headache, then pressed the button again. “And guard that cell!”
2.
Last-second teleporting, especially when she didn’t know where she’d end up, was the worst. Ariel opened her eyes and found herself lying on a grated iron walkway just above the ship’s engines. She breathed heavily a moment, dizzy. Now she knew how Thomas felt.
She stood up and looked over the edge of the railing and saw the underbelly of the ship, its engines glowing orange from the oppressive heat.
Her time machine must have been confused, since it didn’t have the Earth’s magnetism to guide it. She pressed the button at the top of the clock, and in a flash of light, her surroundings morphed until she stood in an empty hallway.
She checked her watch, but its glow was fading, and its ticking had slowed. “No, no,” she whispered. A faint alarm blared overhead, and she could hear the clamor of guards running in halls above her.
One door in the hallway was open, and she quickly slipped inside, then closed the door, catching her breath. The copper watch ticked once, then went silent. Ariel put her head against the wall, her eyes scrunched shut. If it didn’t start working, she had no way back.
After a moment she looked around. The room contained a wide window, and in the distance she could see a blue-green planet partially covered by white clouds. She walked up to the window and put her hand against the cold glass.
In all her travels, she’d never left that planet. Her watch didn’t just take direction from the Earth; it was powered by it. No wonder Jude had been arrested: his watch must have stopped. There was nowhere for him to go.
Ariel tried her radio com. “Bailey, can you hear me?”
No reply; only static.
If only her glasses worked like they did for Thomas, she could get an idea of how to get out of here … if only she had brought Thomas, he would have thought of something by now. She sighed.
The beauty of the planet before her dazzled her, and she didn’t hear a set of footfalls behind her.
She tried to think. The device had an auto-recharge, but she didn’t know if it would work. If it did, it would recharge in twenty minutes, and after that she had to get planetside quickly, because she didn’t know how long it could last.
So she had two options: hide away for twenty minutes, or try to rescue Jude. With her knowledge of the security systems and the general layout of the ship, the second option would be nothing short of suicide.
She glanced down at her watch, which was glowing pitifully. She couldn’t leave him.
Ariel turned, but someone grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth before she could scream.
“Don’t move,” the man urged. Eyes wide, she complied.
“Are you the one they’re looking for?” He slid his hand down, freeing her to answer.
“Uh ... yeah, I think I am.”
He let her go. When she turned and caught a glimpse of his face, she took a step back, slamming into the glass. Moderately dark complexion, dark hair swept up. But his eyes, brown with flecks of green, hit her with enough force to nearly knock her to her feet.
“Thomas!” she said.
He was twenty-one, still very young, but completely recognizable. He blinked. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh my God, I have to tell you. Get out of the secret police, whatever you do. In a few weeks—” She stopped. “Say something again. Your voice is different.”
He put a finger to his lips, and turned. The door was open by a crack, which threw a sharp angle of white light into the room. A Celestial walked by in the hallway outside, his footsteps clinking against the metal floor, but didn’t seem to notice the open door.
“Come on,” said Thomas. “And don’t call me by my name. I’m Agent Nineteen.”
She exhaled. “Wow. American accent. Wait—if you’re in the secret police, aren’t you going to arrest me?”
“The captain’s orders are that any invaders on board be arrested, but—”
“But?”
“Someone’s authority overrules his.” He walked toward the door, and she followed, hesitant. “The prisoner’s cells are about ten minutes’ walk from here, in Area C. You can use your teleporter to get in, right?”
“It’s not working, and how do I know this isn’t a trap?”
“You don’t. So what’s it going to be?”
She squinted. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”
“Come on.” He stepped out into the hall, where four guards stood waiting.
“Good work,” said one. “Arrest her.”
Thomas’s eyes moved to Ariel, but she already knew what to do. She unsheathed her sword and yelled, “Stay back! I’m a dangerous criminal and I’ve taken this young man hostage! Let me through!”
They still advanced.
“They don’t like you very much, huh?” She grabbed Thomas’s blaster with her left hand, pushed him aside, then fired four times, before any of them could draw. They all crumpled to the floor.
“You are insane,” said Thomas.
“Thank you,” Ariel replied. “I’ve played a lot of video games.” She slid her sword into its sheath at her back.
“Don’t kill me. Please.”
Ariel paused, confused, and then moved her eyes up to the ceiling. A security camera was pointed at them. Of course: she’d taken him hostage, and he was acting the part.
She pulled him into another hallway, out of sight of the cameras. “You’re twenty-one, right? What month is it?”
“June.”
“June! Always. Thomas, we were meant to meet.”
“Sure. Kid, when you get your friend, get out of here. The government wants the technology you have. They’ll kill for it.”
Ariel thought back. “In your future, agents are trying to arrest me.”
“Agents? Really? Huh. Maybe someone corrupts the squad.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re Ariel, yes? Our primary goal as the secret police is to protect the people and the monarch,” he said. “But one of our duties is also to protect you. Long ago, when he founded the first squad, Dimitri Reynolds’s son asked us to.”
Ariel’s eyes widened. “You don’t say.”
3.
Two guards opened the door to the cell, and Captain Delacroix strode inside. He tossed a file onto the desk and walked up to the prisoner, a young man in his twenties—handsome, dark-haired, and athletic, with gray eyes that glinted like dimes.
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