by C. A. Gray
I blinked at her, taken aback. “Ahh… okay…?” It came out as a question, because I wasn’t sure how she’d gotten from discussing Mack, to that.
She patted my arm. “Nevermind. This probably isn’t the best time to go there, you’re right.” She passed in front of me, grabbing a plate, and leaving me in stunned and slightly offended silence.
Why was I offended? I wondered. Her words were a little condescending, to be sure. But she was trying to connect with me, and I wasn’t giving her any openings. I wanted to connect with her too, but I couldn’t… because she was M. I had to make her think I was toeing the line. It just really bothered me that she viewed me as some obsessive, lovesick teenager.
Though, in fairness, every time I’d talked to her about Andy, that’s exactly how I’d sounded. That’s exactly what I’d been. I might suddenly see myself completely differently in the last twenty-four hours, but she couldn’t know about any of that. I imagined myself through her eyes, as I’d been from the time Dad died and I’d channeled all my grief into obsession with Andy, and felt a wave of shame. Who was that girl, and why would anybody put up with her, let alone care about her?
Francis appeared behind me and elbowed me in the ribs, snapping me out of my reverie. “Eat,” he commanded. “We’ve got work to do.”
“Did you find the coffee pot?” Surely Mom had had this place stocked with coffee. She was every bit as much an addict as I was. If I drank some now, I knew I wouldn’t really sleep tonight—I’d merely drowse in that half-awake state, too wired to sleep and too exhausted to do anything else, probably replaying the horrific scenes of the day in the theater of my mind. But we had no time to spare. If I was going to continue to function tonight, caffeine was the only option.
“Brewing as we speak,” Francis quirked an eyebrow at me, and I grinned back gratefully. I was actually starting to not mind Francis.
How… surprising.
I caught Larissa glaring at me with a hurt expression, and sighed. Everybody was raw today. I filled my plate with food and joined her, not sure how I could appease her without explaining.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” she mumbled back, wary.
I decided to go for the direct approach. “I’m not after Francis, just so you know.” I restrained myself from adding a snort, or any superlatives which might have rendered the statement offensive.
She looked up at me, and blinked a few times. “Oh. I know,” she said, but she softened visibly and gave me a tiny smile. “I mean, obviously.”
“You can help us finish building the VMI machine after dinner if you want? If you don’t have more work of your own to do tonight, that is,” I added.
She brightened, hopeful. “Really? I mean I have no idea how, but…”
“It’s just following instructions. And three heads are better than two.” Plus, I thought but did not say, if we could offload building the VMI onto Larissa, Francis and I could focus our energy on the rescue operation instead.
Sure enough, having Larissa help made the assembly go much faster, and even though she wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as usual, she was still far more cheerful than we were. We finished about an hour after dinner, but that was still only eight o’clock our time.
“So…” I made a show of stretching, glancing from Larissa to Francis. “Guess we’ll hit the sack, now, huh?”
Larissa heaved an exasperated sigh. “Becca. I might be clueless, but I’m not an idiot.” My eyes went wide, and Francis did not react, until she gestured between us. “You two are up to something, and you’re trying to get rid of me. But I’m not going to rat you out, so come on. Out with it.”
Francis and I exchanged a look.
“Obviously it’s Liam, right?” she guessed. “You want to find a way to help him get a message through to his father or something?”
Francis caught my eye again and gave me a pointed look. Agree with her, it said.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Larissa pressed. “But I don’t see what you can possibly do to help him—”
I gasped, eyes widening suddenly as a new idea occurred to me. “We go low tech!” I cried. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? “That’s why Liam felt he had to go in person in the first place—anything that uses technology can be intercepted. But what if there’s another way to get a message to Liam Senior, without a comm or a holograph call, and without Liam going personally? What if we use paper?”
Francis eyed me, deadpan. “Sure, Cordeaux. And how do you propose we get said paper into the hands of the most powerful businessman in the world, who surely has gatekeepers around him at all times?”
“The Commune! We send out a call, telling any members in the London area to go to General Specs, all bearing the same message! How many Commune members do we have in London?”
Reluctant, Francis opened his netscreen, scanning and entering a few keystrokes. “Four hundred thirty-two,” he muttered.
“All right! So if we mobilize all of those people, then someone, at some point, will see him somewhere. They can all carry the same message: that Brian is alive, he’s on Lunar Station Goliath and he’s been surgically altered, the Silver Six are evil and they’re using you, and you must destroy Jaguar before it’s too late! He’ll ignore one or two, but will he ignore twenty, or however many get to him, all from different strangers? That would be pretty unnerving for anybody, I would think.” I remembered how I’d reacted to John Doe’s uncanny knowledge of nearly every detail of my life—before I knew he was just Mack, and had been sent by my mom. But that had definitely gotten my attention.
“That isn’t going to work,” Francis said flatly.
“Why not? It’s a great idea!” I huffed.
“Because. You’re proposing sending highly sensitive information to hundreds of Commune members that none of us have ever met. Remember how we got those members to join in the first place? They just attended meetings like the one Liam and I put on in my pub in San Jose, and wrote down their names and LP addresses on notebook paper! That’s it. You remember who else put their LP addresses on that list we circulated in my pub? Ivan and Andy.” I winced at this, but Francis persisted, “If even one of them turns traitor, and turns that message over to the Silver Six or their kind, then not only is this plan hosed, but the Commune is hosed too. Not only that, but there are cameras everywhere that will see messages being passed back and forth, so even if nobody betrays us, at some point the Silver Six, or Jaguar, or whoever happens to be watching, will almost certainly investigate.”
I slumped, deflating. “Well… do you have a better idea?”
“I do,” said a meek voice in the doorway,
Larissa and I both jumped, though Francis didn’t seem surprised to see Val. He pointed to Larissa and me. “You two would make terrible spies,” he informed us.
I turned to Val, hand still on my chest to calm my racing heart. “You have an idea of how to get a message to Liam Senior?” I clarified, and she nodded.
“What if we just got Liam’s mom to do it?”
We all exchanged a look with each other, and Francis said cautiously, “Go on.”
Val beamed, like she’d just been invited to the cool kids’ table, and plopped on the floor beside me. “Her name is Cathy Kelly, and she’s lovely. I know where she lives, I’ve been to her place dozens of times—though it’s been years. But I’m sure she hasn’t moved, because that place was her dream house. She designed it herself, and had it built after the divorce settlement. We could just show up there, and have her deliver the message to Liam’s dad!”
Liam had never even mentioned his mother to me, that I could recall. I tried to ignore the pang of jealousy that Val was so familiar with Liam’s family. Not the point, I reminded myself.
“So… what’s the relationship like between Cathy and Liam Senior, then?” asked Larissa. “Would it be believable for her to just waltz in to General Specs and request a private audience?”
Va
l’s face fell. “That… might be a complication. It’s not particularly amicable—Liam Senior cheated on her with his secretary, and she was still pretty bitter the last time I saw her.” Francis snorted at this, and Val went on, “But it’s been years, maybe things are different now!”
“Even if it isn’t,” I said, “once she knows what’s at stake, surely she can suck it up and at least send him a message. Francis, can you go on the Commune and find me a recipe to print some prosthetic makeup?” When he shot me a quizzical glance, I added, “For a disguise. I used to do everybody’s stage makeup for shows. Trust me.”
He shrugged and pulled up his netscreen, but Larissa slid it away from him and closer to herself, taking over his search. “I got this,” she informed him, crossing the room to the printer as well. She gestured at the three of us with a little circle motion of her finger. “You three keep scheming!”
Francis nodded and turned back to Val and me, arching an eyebrow. “So, looks like Val’s going, after all.”
She beamed, and I added at once, “I’m going too!” Val squeezed my hand, and I felt the tiniest twinge of guilt—she thought I was doing it for solidarity. I guess I sort of was. But it was more like one part solidarity, three parts jealousy.
Francis gave me a quick nod. “The two of you should be plenty for this mission. Neither of you has a purpose here at the moment anyway, now that the VMI is finished.”
“Gee. Thanks,” I snorted.
Francis ignored me and went on, “Take the boat on the docks, and go to Great Exuma. Then catch the Quantum Track to London from there.”
“Will that be fast enough?” I fretted.
“I don’t think we have any other options. You’ll have to travel all night,” Francis added with a shrug.
I puffed a heavy breath through pursed lips. “I think we’re gonna need some more coffee.”
“Here we go!” Larissa declared, sliding the newly minted prosthetics toward me. “Work your magic, Becca!”
“I’ll work it on the boat,” I said. “We’d better get going.”
“I’ll bring you more coffee, one sec!” Larissa volunteered, leaping up and heading back to the dining cabin.
“But… how will we even know how to get to Great Exuma?” Val protested.
Francis waved his hand. “I already checked out the boat this afternoon, and it’s programmable—I’ll just give it the coordinates. We’ll have pre-paid Quantum Track tickets waiting for you once you get there.”
Val started to pull me to my feet, but I resisted, looking at Francis. “Hold on—how do I send a message to Liam?” In response, Francis pulled up the Commune on his netscreen, accessed a particular LP address, and slid it over to me. Both he and Val hovered over my shoulder after that, though. I shifted uncomfortably, feeling a little scrutinized.
“Liam, it’s Rebecca. We’re going to have your mom contact your dad, so you don’t have to do it yourself! Do NOT go to General Specs. Val and I will be in London tomorrow. Tell us where to meet you, and you can come back to the compound with us. — Bec.”
I hit send, and slid the netscreen back to Francis, but he held up a hand.
“Take it,” he said, “we have more here. You need a way to communicate. But hold on—” he took it back from me, and I saw him rename the LP address of Liam’s netscreen to Liam, another with his own name, and a third with M. “So there’s no confusion,” he said.
I stared at the label M for a moment, before adding aloud, “Tell Mom we’re not in any danger when she realizes we’re gone tomorrow.”
“Well,” Francis waffled a bit. “You’re not in no danger.”
“Largely how much danger you’ll be in will depend on your makeup skills, probably!” Larissa chirped, entering the cabin again with two steaming mugs of coffee. “I hope they’re good enough to fool Jaguar, if she happens to be watching!”
I grimaced. “Thanks for that vote of confidence.”
Chapter 6: Rebecca
“But why can’t I come?” Madeline pouted as I packed up what we’d need from our cabin, following me with her enormous, wheedling eyes. “What if you need my help?”
“I don’t know why I would,” I told her, “this trip should be quick and easy.” Maybe, I added to myself silently.
“But what if you need a video recording?” she pressed. “Or a second pair of hands? Or a calculator? Or a flashlight?” She blinked at me and added in a tiny voice, “Or a friend?”
Dagger to the heart. She had me, and she knew it. I heaved a heavy sigh, and smiled at her in concession. “Fine,” I murmured, unzipping my backpack to accommodate her. “Come on.”
She beamed at me as I unplugged her and rearranged my belongings to make space for her. “But I’m going to power you down, because I don’t know when I’ll be able to charge you next.”
A wave of dizziness hit me as I zipped her up in the pack, and I had to grip the bedpost until it passed. Once it did, I chugged a little more coffee, willing it to kick in quickly. I briefly worried that I’d be delirious, and therefore useless, by the time we arrived in London.
Fortunately, I got my caffeine-induced second wind by the time we boarded, around eleven pm—or more realistically, it might have been my third or fourth wind by this point. The boat ride would be the longest part of the journey. Top speed was about twenty five miles per hour. We were nearly a hundred miles away from our destination, so the trip should be about four hours long. By comparison, the Quantum Track could get us to the other side of the world in about three.
Val and I watched from the deck as we sped out into the terrifyingly black water by ourselves, the sound of the boat’s motor and the lapping of the waves drowning out everything else. Once we were far enough from shore that there was nothing left to see except blackness in every direction, we retreated into the main cabin. I, for one, had started to feel a little bit agoraphobic, and craved the comfort of walls around me.
“We should try to sleep, don’t you think?” Val ventured at last.
“Definitely,” I agreed. “Go ahead.”
She gave me a knowing smile. “Too wired, huh?”
“For now.” A bench lined the large windows at the front of the cabin, overlooking the boat’s prow. I sat down, scooping my knees up under my chin. “I figure we can do the prosthetic transformation of our faces once we get a little closer. I don’t want us to mess it up if we do fall asleep before then.”
We fell silent for a bit, and Val also settled onto the bench opposite me, resting her face on the glass. Maybe distraction would be the best approach.
“Tell me about your life before all this,” I said. “You were a social worker, right?”
Val looked up and nodded, the reflected cabin light off the window illuminating her soft hazel eyes. “I mostly facilitated reunions of kids with their formerly abusive parents. I was their chaperone. The parents hated me, because they felt like I had no right to be there, and the kids hated me because… well, they kind of hated everybody. It was rough.”
“I thought you liked your job?”
“I did, in a way,” she conceded. “I felt like I was doing something important. At least during the best of times. At worst, I felt like these poor kids were going right back into an abusive situation, but we didn’t have enough evidence to prove it. Or else I suspected the parents were really good people, but it was their word against the kids’ word, and I couldn’t help them. Or else if reunion was deemed impossible, we sent the kids to one of Wallenberg’s orphanages. And those are like military camps, run by robots who only care about efficiency. It’s like being raised by a police bot,” Val shuddered, and sighed. “I volunteered in the orphanage twice a month, just so those kids could actually spend time with a human. They were so starved for affection—every single time, at least one of them begged me to take them home. It broke my heart.”
I thought about this for a long moment. Hadn’t Liam implied that he’d found Val boring? She didn�
�t sound boring to me. Aloud, I asked, “Did Liam ever get involved in all that with you?”
She looked up, surprised, and then smiled sort of sadly. “Oh! Well—truthfully? I didn’t talk to him about it much.”
“Why not?”
“Because our relationship was kind of all about him. I don’t mean to say he was selfish,” she added quickly when she saw my shocked expression, “he asked me tons of questions and he was always encouraging me to pursue my interests and stuff. But you know Liam—he’s intense. I guess I was always just trying to keep up with him, trying to keep him interested.” She shrugged. “Now I know that had I just been myself, we might have worked out.”
I shook my head. “But… what did you see in him? You guys are just so… different.”
A soft smile crossed Val’s lips, and her expression became faraway. “It was kind of the way we met, I guess. I was his friend’s girlfriend’s roommate. We met at a party that my roommate convinced me to go to, and it was exactly the kind of party I hate: way too loud, too many people, too much drinking. I was standing alone and feeling awkward, and Liam probably felt sorry for me and approached me. My knight in shining armor.” She laughed. “Not like every other girl at the party didn’t have her eye on him too, but he didn’t even notice. I guess I made him feel needed, and Liam loves to be needed. As you know.” She shot me a rueful smile. “I think I fell in love with him right then. He was so confident, so witty, so accomplished—I didn’t even know how accomplished because he didn’t tell me he was on track to inherit General Specs in that first conversation. He told me about his job, but neglected to tell me who his dad was. When I did find out, I was super intimidated, even though he didn’t make a big deal of it.” She shrugged. “Maybe that was the turning point. Our relationship didn’t last long the first time. He told me he didn’t see it going anywhere after about two months, and broke up with me. I was devastated even then.”
She fell silent for a moment, until I prodded, “But you got back together?”
