Chapter 17
S o, somebody tried to plant a bomb. Really badly, I might add. He’s got it wired to blow, but the timer mechanism looks unreliable at best, a simply circuitry error and could have ruined his entire----wait, yes, it did. okay---so the bomb isn’t live that’s a good thing.
I step back, slowly. It’s still a live bomb and I should tell someone. But who? And who planted it? Tyrell? Titus. Who knows, they’re both loose and equal amounts of trouble in my opinion. I can’t leave the bomb here. but I also can’t pick it up and walk around with it, “I just found this bomb” certainly doesn’t seem like a very good excuse. I sigh, I can’t just stand here with it either. What am I going to do?
This is the perfect place to plant bombs. You don’t even actually need that many initiators, one or two real ones and those will trigger the packs of explosives. There were more than enough cleaning supplies to make a few bombs. Plus, all the environmentally friendly materials that they use burn up so easily, this section of the base will go down in no time at all. The rest of the bombs have to look authentic, of course. Can’t have somebody trying to move the explosives so that they won’t go off. not that anybody is down here---
“Titus---what are you doing?”
Except the woman I love, she is here. needless to say.
“Nothing,” I didn’t think that would work. If he lives, I’ll have to talk to Harris about what it feels like to say the wrong thing, I’m sure it’s an emotion he’s familiar with.
“What is that?” Tom asks, slowly stepping towards me, her eyes on my nice bomb.
“What does it look like?” I ask.
“A bomb,” she says, her eyes darting back to me.
“That’s what it is,” I say.
“Okay,” she says shifting backwards ready to run or take a blow from me but not actually running or attacking me.
“What does it matter though? If they all die?” I ask, nodding at the upstairs. “Nobody came for you. I bet nobody came for me either. Or if they did it was only to make sure somebody was promising to send me to a different planet. It’s not as though they care. It’s not as though anything will ever change. The Peters will be left alone and the Quentins will kill themselves and the Tsegis will die and life will go on. so why not help it along, the despair? Let them all die.”
“I’m sorry your family isn’t stronger---I wish your dad hadn’t left---I wish my parents had bothered to ever come---but that doesn’t excuse this, that doesn’t excuse killing them. Just come with me, please---we can fix this, I promise, together---,” she says, holding out her hand, her eyes pained. So she’s not going to agree to help me. Oh well. it was worth the try.
“Oh,---wait, you think I made this bomb?” I ask, pointing at my bomb, almost laughing. But inside I’m sad. I can never tell her. She can’t know what I am. Or she wouldn’t love me anymore.
“What—yes,” she says, carefully.
“No,” I say. we can’t fix me. I’m sorry, Tom. We can’t fix me.
“Well---why did you just say that then?”
“Ah, I found you down here with a bomb, I thought it was best to go along with it,” I say, innocently. Now I’m going to have to defuse it like a gentleman. Optimum use of the preposition, by the way.
“You didn’t find me with a bomb! I found you with a bomb!” she’s annoyed now, relieved but annoyed.
“Okay, let’s just compromise, we’ll just say we found each other with a bomb, and leave it at that,” I offer generously.
“No, I found you with a bomb—”
“Trying to defuse it and you came up looking like you’d just set it---”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you can’t look like you’ve just set a bomb---”
“What did you think I looked like then?”
“You were standing by it!” she’s still breathing quickly a sign that she’s deeply annoyed with me for making her think I was planting a bomb. Think of how mad she’s be if she knew I actually was. Then she’d never kiss me.
“So are you that doesn’t mean you built it,” I say.
“Okay, forget it, neither of us built the bomb---let’s just---figure out how to defuse it,” Tom says, shaking her head. she comes closer, “There must be some wire to cut or something.”
“We just have to break the power supply to the initiator, then it won’t go off,” not that I know anything about bombs or making them. with a little sigh, I dismantle my perfectly good bomb until it’s useless.
“Is that it?” she asks.
“Should be, not that I know anything about bombs or making them,” I say.
“Right, but we can’t just leave it here, we need to get help,” she says, “We have to tell Thorn and Wilde.”
“There could be more, if you and I didn’t plant it, somebody else down here did, and there could be more of them,” I say, reasonably. For a purely random example the other eight bombs I have on the main support beams. Like those. Very similar to those.
I spin around in the crowd, trying not to panic. He’s fine. Absolutely fine. He’s just not here. But he’s fine. Except I don’t see him.
Did I read the little card they gave me right? Yes, table 42, and I’m standing here in my best dress which is about ten years old and when I got it it was second hand I got it for Quentin’s school awards, he’d won some science award, because he was so clever, he won some award, so he walked up on stage and got this cheap little trophy and the director shook hands with him and I got this dress because I wanted to look decent and like a good mother, and—and Ian was there too, he’d not gotten the award ever but he clapped for his brother.
He didn’t smile all night though. Why didn’t I notice that? Why didn’t I do something? What should I have done? Anything to stop him doing what he did my sweet boy and Ginny---oh god Ginny now here too please, Quentin, just come here and be all right. I know it’s just the two of us now and it shouldn’t be and it hurts like hell but please, please, please be okay.
“Ma’am,” a Spaceman is standing in front of me, for half a second I want to believe that it’s Quentin he’s as tall as Quentin is, but no, this is a man, close to my age, perhaps a bit younger. His eyes are red and bit foggy, he’s clean shaven but there are cuts on his face from doing it, and his stance is swaying, like he’s used to being in space and not on the ground. Is this what Quentin will look like twenty years? Another one of their clones, on medication no, doubt, by the trembling of his hands. Not even able to care for himself properly? If Quentin were here this moment I would take him and hug him so tight and take him home—home where? Home where his brother died, home where his sister isn’t anymore? Yes, yes, yes it’s just the two of us and it shouldn’t be but I’ll make it work I’ll take care of you please.
“Where is my son?” I ask him.
“He’s unavoidably detained but so far as I know not dead---against the odds, so, because he’s a nice kid and I rather like him I’m going to ask you to step outside with me and we’ll wait for him,” he says, taking my arm. His grip is like a vice, despite his almost drunken demeanor, he’s terribly strong.
“What? No, where is my son?” I ask, kicking him but he grabs my other arm and pins it behind my back hard.
“Shit---like I said, he’s detained, now come on,” he twists my fingers, I wince.
“And don’t think about screaming, this for your own good damn it, and I can hurt you a hell of a lot worse without looking like it so just be quiet,” he says, dragging me towards the door.
“Where are you taking me?” I hiss.
“Outside, like I said, to wait for Leavitt,” he says.
“Why? We’re supposed to wait in here,” I say.
“Oh, I don’t know. the whole building might just blow up. Who can say?”
Of course I find a bomb. No Liesel. Just a bomb and the cadet who planted it.
“What the hell?” I’m very creative.
“I did not plant this---I found it, I don’t know quite
how to defuse it,” Leavitt says, looking at bomb almost ready to cry.
“Well---why are you just standing here?” I ask.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asks, suspiciously.
“That is not important---wait you don’t think I planted it?” I realize as he stares at me nervously.
“Well, why aren’t you in uniform?” he asks, reasonably.
“Why do you look like that?” I ask. He’s in his dress whites, but they are scuffed at the knees and disheveled in general, as though he’s fallen through the floor or something. his neck is red and bruised, like somebody tried to strangle him.
“I was nearly killed by a trap—why aren’t you in uniform?” he asks.
“That---really doesn’t matter, do you honestly think I am smart enough to plant a bomb?” I ask, desperately.
“Probably not, it looks pretty sophisticated,” he admits.
“I should really pull a 314 for that actually working---okay, if you didn’t do it why are you just standing here?” I ask.
“Well, I found it and I don’t know how to defuse it and I can’t just leave it and if I somehow carry it with me then it really looks like I made it and it might go off,” he says.
“That is a problem,” I say, studying the thing. It’s a packet of what is probably explosive with wires running into and out to a timer thingy. “I’ve no idea how to defuse it either, unfortunately. My SFCS isn’t mechanics.”
“Well, then go and get help,” he suggests.
“I can’t leave you here with it!” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because---”
“You really still think I planted it?” he asks, annoyed.
“No, but I can’t leave you standing here next to a bomb,” I say.
“We need to evacuate the building,” he says, “Then we’ll try to defuse it.”
“Okay,” I say, “I’ll stay here, you run you’re faster than me.”
“Okay,” he says, taking off his jacket, which is a bit torn anyway, “What do I do?”
“I don’t know---pull the fire alarm or something, then go and find Wilde,” I say.
“But if I pull the fire alarm everyone will scatter and be harder to find,” he points out.
“Well then, just find Wilde or somebody equally in charge and then do something I don’t care,” I say.
“Okay,” he says, nodding and starting to back away. He doesn’t get far, though.
“What’s going on?” Tom and Card run up, they are carrying what look like disassembled piece of a bomb but I’ve been wrong before they could be delivering cookies. Not.
“We found a bomb,” I say.
“So did we,” Tom says, holding up explosive as evidence.
“Why not just defuse it?” Card asks, lazily, going right over to the bomb and starting to fiddle with it.
Well well well I’m not the only random bomb maker in these parts. How terribly interesting.
“Because we don’t know how---how do you know how?” I ask.
“I don’t know specifically but we defused the other one without exploding so this one should be similar, there you are,” he says, holding out the timer mechanism makes go boom thingy piece of it, “It’s safe.”
“It’s not safe, it’s still a bomb!” I say, annoyed at how calm he is I always knew I hated pilots for a reason sociopathic little shits. “And there could be more. If you found one and we found one, then it stands to reason there are more. Plus whoever planted them is still down here.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Card says.
“Where have you been?” Leavitt asks suspiciously.
“Down here looking for bombs, Tyrell is loose,” Card says.
“No whoever---possibly Tyrell--- is probably gone, we still need to get help though,” Tom says.
“Have any of you seen Stowe?” I ask.
“Yes, she and I went looking for Titus, we split up, she’s down here somewhere,” Tom says.
“All right, I’ll look for her, all of you go back to the surface where it’s safe and tell Wilde or somebody equally competent who isn’t Thorne what’s going on,” I command. Thorne would technically be all right too, but he would gloat too much since he’s been so sure the world is coming to an end.
“All right, Stowe shouldn’t be far,” Tom calls.
“I hope not,” I mutter, turning and looking at the maze of ducts and pipes. Please dear god let her be safe.
“What are you doing?” for a second I think it’s Titus bent over what looks like a bomb. But it’s not. It’s Tyrell. Oh god.
He giggles uncontrollably.
“Tyrell, what’s going on?” I ask, stepping closer to him.
“Lookit---yooo, little spaceman, eh? Nice little Spaceman,” he steps forward surprisingly quickly, reaching out a finger to flick the ribbons on my chest. Marksman and Kepler Defender and Science achievements, Kepler defender everyone gets, I earned the other two at the Academy.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I say, calmly, looking at the thing he was fussing with yep it’s a bomb. He’s clearly insane, and he’s a bit bigger than me. He’s weak, though, living in the woods for the past week, only in those dingy hospital clothes, he’s bruised and dirty.
“Why?” he asks, suspiciously.
“I was worried about you,” I say, reaching out and stroking his cheek. He relaxes, a little but not much, he’s sweaty and his skin feels cold. “Why don’t we go back up? It’s dark down here.”
“Okay, okay---but first,” he goes back to the bomb, giggling, “First they all die.”
“That one looks good, let’s just go,” I say, encouragingly, I need him to turn his back to me, that would be good, he’s not though. I’d rather strangle him than anything but it might have to come to blows.
“But first,” he says, and he presses a button on the bomb. Then everything goes black.
“Let’s split up,” Tom suggests, “That will make finding Wilde quicker.”
“Agreed,” I say, shoving her in the lift and slamming the door shut, locking it with a click. Just as I do, the first explosion goes off. You see the bomb Leavitt and Harris found was about to blow. So I figured whoever set the bombs, presumably Tyrell, would have more than one set to blow, with choice packets of explosives set about that would be triggered by the initial explosion. I know I was going to. and it seems I’m right.
“What are you doing?” she asks, spinning around angrily and shaking the bars, as the lift starts to rise. I punch the buttons to the lift, they sizzle and the lights go out. now nobody else can get up. Good.
“Yes what are you doing?” Leavitt asks, grabbing my arm.
“Trading my life for yours,” I say, turning my head to watch her as she goes up, “Get out of here, now, before the entire place burns down. I’ll do my best to neutralize the other explosives.”
“No, Titus damn you,” she hisses, trying to reach through the bars presumably to strangle me.
“Know I worship you, and always will,” I call after her, right before Leavitt grabs me and rams me against the wall.
“What were you thinking? Are you trying to get us killed?” he growls.
“Not specifically, calm down, this was the best way to prove my eternal devotion to her,” I say.
“I DON’T CARE ABOUT THAT!!”
“Why not?” I ask, “I do.”
“BECAUSE I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU I HATE YOU VERY VERY MUCH,” he says, dropping me and pacing away, punching the wall.
“Oh. Okay. Too bad. Now she’ll love me---anyway I don’t think we’ll die, we just need to neutralize the explosive packs that are bound to be about, before the fire reaches them,” I say, nodding behind me. I can smell burning but not hear it.
“Okay, fine,” he says, nodding, “But that doesn’t stop the fire.”
“No, that’s the part that makes it likely that we’ll die.”
As soon as the lift stops, I run to the end of the hall pulling the fire alarm.
There, now the building will be evacuated. Time to get back down there.
“Oh wow. An inexplicable fire. And Titus is in the vicinity but not where he’s supposed to be. how utterly unremarkable,” I say, looking up as the fire alarms go off and people start trying to shuffle us outside.
“Shut up, just shut up, I wish you’d never come,” my mother says, taking my arm and pulling me towards the door as people try to fight their way out.
“So do I, you’d think they’d have booze,” I say.
“No, you wouldn’t, it’s military.”
“There has to be something that retards their thinking otherwise they wouldn’t have kept Titus this long already,” I say, “I do hope they aren’t going to ask us to take him back.”
“They couldn’t,” She says, almost fearfully.
“He is burning the place down.”
“We don’t know---”
“Yes we do.”
“He isn’t necessarily---”
“Yes he is.”
“You’re right let’s just leave.”
I wake up aching all over, it’s amazing how much pain your body can be in. instantly I wish to be asleep again because then nothing hurt. I can’t be though, the pain is keeping me up now. I try to breath and I inhale smoke, coughing. Then I remember, of course, that a bomb went off. Oh, God, I cannot possibly be okay.
“Liesel, wake up for me, sweet one, wake up,” a familiar voice is talking to me and I slowly become aware that somebody is holding me. I force my eyes open.
“I’m okay,” I cough, as slowly feeling comes back into my limbs. I hurt all over but I’m whole, that’s something.
“Breath, baby, just breath,” Harris god knows why he’s here, is holding me, kneeling on the ground and holding me in his arms.
“I’m okay,” I cough again even though I’m clearly not.
“You’re burned bad and you’ve been knocked pretty good, We need to get out of here, and I can carry you but if anything’s broken I don’t want to break it worse,” he says, “I moved you as far as I dared from the flames but you weren’t moving, I thought your neck might be broken---Jesus---don’t get up!”
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