by Brandt Legg
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
She smiled. “When we get to the City, you won’t have to wait for my stories. You’re going to learn more than you ever imagined.”
Chapter 35 - Book 3
Blaise had slept soundly. Years ago, he had invested heavily in research to alleviate the need for sleep, considering it a waste of valuable hours. But instead, he discovered that sleep was the time when one could most easily connect to an infinite pool of knowledge.
“Your mind works hardest while you sleep,” he would tell subordinates. “Go to bed early.”
And so, on the first night of the war, when most of the rest of the world was busy running, hiding, attacking, or dying, Blaise slept.
In the night, he’d dreamt of nothing but the List Keepers and the prophecies. Upon waking, he was not surprised to have a key insight. From that revelation, he extrapolated and soon sat stunned.
Blaise had a remarkable talent for assembling thousands of bits of information, shreds of data, and seemingly unrelated facts into a gigantic jigsaw puzzle that, when pieced together, revealed a picture of something no one else had seen. Just as a brilliant investigator pursues clues to solve a mystery and a painter creates a great painting from a few colors and inspired brush strokes, Blaise, a master information artist, could find clarity where others saw only endless storms.
He wished he could present his new understanding to the round table, but was glad it had now come only to him since the knights had betrayed their king. Like a palace coup, those he had trusted most were now his enemy. The trader of secrets now had one, that for the first time, he was not willing to sell. A secret so great that the future of humanity rode with it. What to do with such powerful information was another matter. Having always held them only until they could be sold off to the highest bidder or most strategic fit, Blaise had to do something different with this one. He had to use if for himself.
For someone so well connected, someone wealthy beyond reason, someone so highly intelligent, someone with whom the fate of the world rested, surprisingly, Blaise did not know what to do next. But a plan was formulating, and it began with one simple step.
He needed to reach the List Keepers. Only in the previous few days had he learned of the existence of a hidden community of them known as the “City.” Blaise knew there were only three ways to discover the location of the City: get the prophecies, capture Munna, or find Fye and Grandyn. He intended to do all three.
Blaise made a series of zooms as the first steps in his still-evolving plan. He’d need satellite data from Deuce Lipton. It would be an easy trade. Blaise had something Deuce needed.
“I’ve got an Eighty-seven Weighted Blue Diamond satellite that will do what you need,” Deuce said. “I can give you the command codes if you really can do what you say.”
“Why do you doubt me?” Blaise asked. “Have I ever not done what could not be done?”
“If you can stop the Imps from working with the AOI, I’ll never doubt you again.”
“Your greatest mistake was ever doubting me, but it’s just one among so many that it’s not worth harping on it,” Blaise said. “But remember, this will not be permanent. I estimate that they will be thrown off-track for only twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“In this war, that’s an eternity.” Deuce looked at the VMs streaming coverage of the gruesome events around the globe. It continued to defy logic as the horrors were surpassed only by the death toll. “And I can spare the satellite for a couple of days.”
“Excellent. I’ll be back in touch as soon as my end is set up.”
Blaise had always craved control, which may have been what drove him to search for, and broker, information. Information led to power. Secrets were illegal in the Aylantik. He always found that ironic. A regime, indeed an entire society, built upon one horrible secret ‒ the Banoff ‒ and they tried to eliminate secrets within that same society.
But there were small secrets and large secrets. Blaise didn’t just have a talent for finding them, he also knew how to value them. Each had a price, depending on the damage or progress it could do.
The nature of the Aylantik system and the operations of their enforcers, the AOI, are what actually created the climate and market that allowed someone like Blaise to flourish. KEL and their other methods of constant monitoring had made most citizens oblivious to the complete lack of privacy. Every step they took, every move on the Field, and every word they uttered, all was recorded. In that way, the secrets were all there just waiting to be mined, and the other ones, the really big ones that had been carefully hidden that all monitoring avoided, was where the real money was.
To that end, when Blaise invented the DesTIn technology that made both Imps and CHRUDEs possible, he installed a special feature. Originally, it had been designed to collect data, but now he had hopes he could modify it and use it to control the Trapciers, at least for a precious day or two.
Next, Blaise went to work on Lance Miner. He promised the pharmaceutical billionaire that he could slow the AOI’s attacks and even give Miner advance warning, if Miner would deliver Munna.
“If I could get Munna, why wouldn’t I keep her?” Miner asked.
“Because you wouldn’t know what to do with her. She was only valuable to you before the war started. You wanted to use her to stop the rebels, but now that’s not necessary, and the rebels aren’t even your biggest problem,” Blaise explained.
“You are correct about that,” Miner said, looking across his desk at Sarlo as she manipulated INUs and watched VMs to identify P-Force units closest to Deuce and Munna’s last known location just off Ryder Island. He so enjoyed watching her work. “Munna is not my biggest problem any longer, nor is Chelle Andreas. But the Chief is.” He paused when Sarlo turned to him, anticipating his next statement. “If I capture Munna, I will turn her over to you under one condition.”
“Yes?” Blaise asked, already knowing Miner’s demand.
“The Chief dies. I don’t care how, or who, just make sure she is dead.”
“Lance, she is one of the three most protected people on the planet. I have no army. Why do you think I can do it if P-Force can’t?”
“P-Force can’t, not because they aren’t capable, but because it is not allowed. As for how you do it, that’s your problem. But Blaise, I’ve always known you to be incredibly resourceful.”
“Let me know when you have Munna then,” Blaise said, ending the zoom. “It’s too late to stop me now,” he sang to himself as he pushed a button to file the image recording of the zoom.
He checked the news reports which showed more escalation. The Chief’s strategy was clear. She was coming on with everything they had at the start, hoping to end the war in days, hoping to end it before it had really begun. It was a good play, particularly for one charged with keeping the peace at any cost. If she could destroy enough of the opposition, and even any potential opposition, fast enough, she would scare anyone left into full Aylantik compliance.
But the Chief had never experienced a war that had exploded. She’d only lived through the long simmering “pre” war. She didn’t know that once a volcano erupts, it cannot be stopped until the entire landscape has changed.
He turned on the first test and saw the data from his monitors come streaming in. Suddenly, the world of Trapciers secrets were added to his considerable stash of covert knowledge. Yet with all that he had gathered, he believed he’d finally come upon the holy grail of secrets. One that was priceless. And it was the one held by the List Keepers.
Chapter 36 - Book 3
Munna set up seven VMs in the large center deck of the Moon Shadow. When the windows were shaded, it looked more like they were in a skyscraper penthouse above Tokyo, with streamlined white and black furnishings. A wide chrome and teakwood spiral staircase led to the upper deck, and another went down into a larger lounge and the cabins. A galley was off the back of the center deck reception area, and the bridge was in front. Nelson, Deuce a
nd Munna sat on white cloth, bench-style sofas, but because they were upholstered in Tekfabrik, the color, and even texture, could change on command. The same was true of the low-pile carpet, which was presently also white.
With the lights dimmed and windows shaded, Munna allowed the Justar Journal to tell its story. All seven VMs came to life with swirling words, and then images.
Deuce didn’t know why Munna had suddenly changed her mind, and he was afraid to ask. He didn’t want to do anything that might make her reconsider. There was no way to know how long she would leave the Justar Journal open, so he sat attentively, barely breathing, with intense anticipation.
They knew the images on the seven VMs had each originated from decoding the shifting text of the special books that had been found in the Portland Library, and that each made up one of the chapters of the Justar Journal. But up until now, they hadn’t seen the final two chapters.
Deuce looked at the list in his INU. Although he’d already committed to memory what the first five chapters were about, he was hoping to get some help with the missing two descriptions for the chapters hidden in The Iliad, by Homer, and Rights of Man, by Thomas Paine. So far, those two were showing only abstract images.
He reviewed the list of the books on a tiny VM of his own. Below each author and title, he’d noted the corresponding “chapter” categories for the Justar Journal.
Meditations by Marcus Aurelius
Health and Birth
Spirituality and Death
Reflections of the Revolution in France, by Edmund Burke
War and Peace
Wealth and Power
Paradise Lost, by John Milton
Earth and Nature
Planets and Stars
The Federalist, by Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and John Jay
Science and Technology
Art and Creativity
The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Time and Thoughts
Dreams and Wishes
The Iliad, by Homer
Rights of Man, by Thomas Paine
He was about to ask Munna if she knew what the Iliad and Rights of Man chapters were about, when images suddenly changed across all VMs. Health-Birth-Spirituality-Death had been showing victims of what Deuce had been calling the “new plague.” Now it depicted that crisis worsening, with lines of people waiting to get into Health-Circle clinics collapsing dead on the street. At the same time, War-Peace-Wealth-Power, which had shown cities crumbling under the unrelenting AOI air blitz, were now showing the first pause of the war.
“What’s happening?” Nelson asked.
Deuce thought of Blaise and assumed he was going to be successful. “We might be making progress with the fighting, but obviously the new plague is out of control.”
Earth-Nature-Planets-Stars changed from images of exploding mines on asteroids and water operations on Earth’s moon, to satellite battles. It unnerved Deuce, the owner of StarFly and maker of the majority of the satellites in service. He’d known a space war was possible, but seeing it actually happen made him question many of the options he was currently considering.
Science-Technology-Art-Creativity shifted away from weapons factories, in high gear, to a meeting of Imps. Time-Thoughts-Dreams-Wishes went from scenes of secret meetings of revolutionaries to a live image of Twain Lipton in the redwoods.
“What’s going on?” Deuce exclaimed.
“We’re seeing the future,” Munna whispered.
The Iliad, which had been shuffling abstract images of lights and color patterns, was now showing Munna sitting on the Moon Shadow, and Rights of Man now had what they could only guess was a basketball-sized Eysen INU.
“Why are they all displaying the future except the ones of you and Twain?” Deuce asked, nodding at what they all could see. The VM showed Munna sitting exactly where she presently was on the Moon Shadow.
“Oh, Deuce, don’t fall into that old way of thinking. They’re all showing a future. Time, remember, is not always what you think.”
Nelson recalled many lectures Cope had given on the same topic, but he still didn’t get it. “Munna, the VM is showing exactly what you’re doing, at this very moment,” Nelson said impatiently. “How can that be the future?”
“There are many ways to see the future. The present is the future of a moment ago. Be assured, the Justar Journal speaks only of the future. If we are seeing something, it is going to happen, unless something else changes it. You all just witnessed a full shift. All the VMs were affected by something major that happened to change our trajectory.”
“Our trajectory?” Nelson asked.
Deuce was studying the footage of his son, meditating in the redwoods, worrying what would happen if an AOI patrol happened by and found him there defenseless. Or worse, what if P-Force found him?
“Our trajectory, meaning the future direction of each of those chapters of the human experience,” Munna explained.
“So what are the last two?” he asked.
“I’m not certain, but one of them appears to be me.” She smiled.
“Damn it, Munna!” Deuce snapped. “We’ve got hundreds of thousands being annihilated by either Sonic-bombs or plague. You talk about peace and love and whatever, but we have this, I don’t know what it is, the Justar Journal, and it’s our best chance to stop all of this death. Let me use it. I can do things, I can make big moves, but it could all be wrong unless you’re willing to leave the VMs on and let me watch them every time I do something. I’ll know in minutes, maybe even seconds, if I was right or wrong. It’s the safest way to navigate this torgon mess. I know what you’ve said, but I don’t want to use it to win the war. I want to use it to end the war.”
“The Justar Journal is not for war.”
“Then what is it for!?” Deuce blasted.
“I’ve told you before. The Justar Journal is to help us find our way.”
“Then why is it showing you and Twain right now? You say that’s the future, but it sure looks like ‘now’ to me. Or, at least, it’s extremely close to this exact moment in time.”
Munna could see both Nelson and Deuce were impatient and confused. She knew they were scared. The world, as they had always known it, was disintegrating before their eyes.
Munna smiled and pointed back to the VMs, then said softly, “Humans think because they invented clocks and calendars that they understand time, that they have somehow tamed it. Time is nothing like you imagine.”
Chapter 37 - Book 3
Grandyn and Fye followed the Rogue River, cruising along on their AirSliders, weaving through trees at maximum speed, when suddenly, Grandyn heard Fye scream. He turned just in time to see her tumbling down toward the water.
Grunges had appeared from nowhere and showered a barrage of laser strikes up at them. Grandyn tried to get to her, but he was taking too much fire. She dropped almost eight meters before plunging into the white water.
Grandyn pulled a lasershod and blasted back, but trying to maintain balance while aiming his weapon proved impossible. The grunges’ lasers sliced past him, and one caught his AirSlider. He dropped and swerved, nearly hitting a large cedar before regaining control. He tried to spot Fye in the river, looked along the bank, but couldn’t find her. Circling back into their line of fire, Grandyn dropped an fist–sized spark-bomb. As soon as it hit, thousands of plate-sized sparks lit the area, blinding and inflicting serious burns to the surprised grunges.
Following the currents of the swift-moving river, Grandyn raced over the surface, searching for any trace of her. That close to the water, it was too loud to hear her as the water entered a narrow basalt canyon. There were no longer any banks, only steep, smooth, stone walls as the river churned and funneled into the chasm, roiling with swirling timbers, and exploding over rocks. Then, ahead, he saw her as he pushed the AirSlider to outrun the rapids.
“I’m coming!” he yelled, but she would never have heard him as she bobbed
in and out of the thundering surge.
He got seven meters ahead of her and hovered as close to the surface as he could while still holding the AirSlider steady. “Fye! I’m here!” he screamed above the roar.
She hadn’t seen him. He couldn’t tell if she was even conscious.
“Fye!”
She was only three meters away. He leaned down toward the water, so close that the violent, coughing flow soaked him and he almost slid off the AirSlider.
“Fye!”
She was coming backwards. He thrust his hand into the cold river just before she reached him. His fingers wrapped around her upper arm, but he couldn’t keep his grip. He had to hold onto the AirSlider with his other hand. But she finally realized he was there.
Fye grabbed him, but it was too late. The force of the current took her. Their hands slipped apart and she went under the AirSlider. Grandyn recovered quickly and whipped back into the air, flying beyond her once again. This time she’d be ready for him.
He positioned himself just as before, but instead of holding on with his hand, he wrapped his legs around the base of the AirSlider, crossing them on the underside.
She looked up and saw him, her face was weary, but relieved as she raised her arms to him. But just before she got within reach, her face registered terror. “Grandyn!”
The laser just missed him, but it was enough to lose Fye again. He rolled the AirSlider and twisted it into a climb fifteen meters high, where he spotted the source of the laser strike; another grunge, who must have been part of the same unit of the two he’d blinded. Grandyn dove the AirSlider straight at the agent, who got off two strikes before Grandyn crashed into him. The grunge, unprepared for the impact, went into the river and was quickly lost in a foaming eddy. Grandyn righted his AirSlider centimeters before it would have splintered into the rocks and tore back down.
