by Liana Brooks
Emir cleared his throat. “After he is settled, Commander, we need to talk about how you were able to bring him here. I know there was no authorized mission to that iteration.”
Now she smiled openly. “I’m grateful you asked, sir. I’ve found some unexplained temporal anomalies. New ones. Possibly caused by the spiral pattern of our interactions with the other strong iteration. It’s creating security risks.”
He raised a bushy white eyebrow. “The dead women?”
“Almost certainly related. The killer is either using the anomalies to enter our territory or as a means of disposing of the bodies.” The civilian who had died the day before was seen on video only. When the techs had gone to the remote area to retrieve the corpse, they’d found blood but nothing else. “Tightening security needs to be a top priority in the coming weeks. Before we lose someone else or gain someone we don’t want.”
Emir turned to MacKenzie. “You said you had experience with investigation?”
“Yes,” MacKenzie said.
“Yes, sir,” Rose corrected him sharply. “You’ll have to forgive him, Doctor, he wasn’t living in a rigid environment when I found him.”
MacKenzie glowered at her. “No, I was living at home with my wife and dog.”
“A dog?” Emir chuckled. “What a waste of resources! Why would you expend energy on keeping a creature that does nothing but drools? Oh, you poor boy, we’ve saved you just in time!” He reached for MacKenzie’s shoulder, and MacKenzie pulled away.
“Maybe you’ll have a chance to meet my dog, sir.” MacKenzie put a special emphasis on the title. “You’d be amazed what animals can be trained to do where I come from. You might find you like dogs after all.”
Emir shook his head, too wrapped up in his own narcissism to realize what MacKenzie was doing. “Yes. Of course. A dog in the Prime. They went extinct when, Commander?”
“Nearly a decade ago, sir.” She didn’t dare look to see MacKenzie’s reaction.
“Well, such is the loss of our times. The sacrifices we make.” Emir smiled at MacKenzie. “If you get lonely, let me know. I’ll see if we can find a stuffed bear for you from the nursery. Dogs!” He laughed to himself as he walked out.
Rose looked at MacKenzie’s fists, clenched and white-knuckled. “Let him go,” she ordered.
MacKenzie glared at her. “He is who you choose to follow?”
“No.” Honesty was the only way forward. “Not for some time now. He’s . . . I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“He’s an insane megalomaniac,” MacKenzie said. “You know how I know? Normal people don’t try to control the future.”
“Oh, of course they do!” Rose slammed the door shut, so their conversation wouldn’t drift into the hallways. “Everyone tries to control the future. We plan things in advance, we have preventative medicine. We have habits simply because it reduces the amount of choice-related stress in our lives. Everyone wants to control the future; Emir just happens to be better at it.”
MacKenzie shook his head. “Habits aren’t healthy. They become addictions. They box us in. If life doesn’t give you a few surprises, you wind up living in your head, and reality evaporates.”
“Maybe that’s what happened to Emir,” Rose said. “To all of us. We have our routines and our carefully plotted life, but we’re simply pieces in a computer. Interchangeable and replaceable.”
MacKenzie nodded.
“But we are still the only future humanity has. I realize how much you must abhor the thought.”
“I really don’t think you do.”
She ignored his protest. “When decoherence comes, it will destroy humanity. Not a few thousand people, or a few million, or a continent. Everyone dies in decoherence.” She had to make him see how real the risk was.
He leaned closer. “So stop the decoherence from happening.”
Rose stared at him. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
She frowned in confusion. “Because it is?”
“Citation needed, Jane. Unless you have scientific evidence that decoherence can’t be stopped, you’re going about this all wrong. You shouldn’t be trying to ensure one iteration survives, you should be trying to find a way for all of them to survive.”
Her throat went dry. “But, if that were possible, we . . . we’d be doing that already. Central Command would . . .” She licked her lips. “They would . . .”
MacKenzie raised an eyebrow. “You can’t say it, so you don’t believe it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m sure there’s research on the matter. We can look it up. But you do realize how difficult what you’re suggesting is. Decoherence is a huge force, you can’t hold up a hand and expect it to stop for you.”
“An object in motion will stay in motion unless acted upon by an equal and opposite force. Physics 101. Time is in motion, it is moving forward, and that means it has more momentum than decoherence. All we need to do is remove the equal and opposite force.”
CHAPTER 21
“Under a star-shattered sky, wrapped in the tempest’s embrace; here I find solace. Here I find grace.”
~ excerpt from A Wild Sea by Laya Zaffre I2—2036
Tuesday December 31, 2069
California District 21
Los Angeles
Commonwealth of North America
Iteration 2
Sam leaned against her pillows, knocking the toes of her boots together as The Piper rolled in the waves. They were less than five miles from shore, but until Captain Hanshi gave her the all clear sign, she was cut off from the Commonwealth by a metal hull and some very polluted water.
Bosco rested his head on the bed and looked at her mournfully.
“Sorry,” she said, scratching his ear. “We can’t play fetch today.”
He heard FETCH and not CAN’T. His tail thrummed with hope. Playing fetch on the desk meant chasing balls while the crewmen scrambled for cover. They looked on, taking bets on how long the string of drool hanging from Bosco’s mouth would get.
It could get very boring in the middle of the ocean while the weather was fair.
She sighed and rolled on her side. This was the easy part. After she got onshore, things would get complicated. There were enough cash and IDs in her bag to get her a rental car. A plane would be better, but half the airports did facial and fingerprint scans. They’d let her through, but CBI Agent Rose would be tagged in the system, and there would be questions.
A yellow light in the corner of the room, tucked between the door and the wall, flashed for the first time since the trip began.
Sam sat up. “Looks like we’re coming into port.”
The faint sound of a siren echoed outside. Not one of the ship’s warning bells but another ship.
She licked her lips. Hitting the intership comm, she called the deck. “Captain Hanshi?”
“This is not a good time,” the captain responded. “We are being surrounded.”
“Pirates? In port?” Impossible.
“Coast Guard,” Captain Hanshi said in a clipped, angry voice. “We’re being escorted out of the port.”
“What?”
“I’m very sorry. I’ll refund your money.” The comm line cut off as Hanshi answered the Coast Guard’s hail.
Sam looked at Bosco. “Want to go for a walk?” She pulled her tennis shoes on, clipped Melody’s truncheon to her belt, and grabbed her bugout bag. The rest of her luggage would have to stay. Clothes could be replaced. IDs and money couldn’t.
The halls outside were an ant’s nest of men rushing to their posts, sealing doors, and tidying away stills in case the Coast Guard decided they wanted to have an inspection. Hanshi was turning The Piper around in LA Harbor.
Bosco followed Sam to the deck.
The lights of LA were less t
han a mile away. Fireworks were going off, celebrating the New Year, and a light fog made the light of the Coast Guard ships bounce in an odd way. Refracting and throwing up shadows where they didn’t belong.
“Miss.” One of the crewmen grabbed her elbow. “You need to get belowdecks.”
Sam turned, recognizing Jon from Malaysia. “I . . . right.” She forced a smile. “How bad is the water here?”
Jon frowned. “What? We’re not drinking it. Get belowdecks before the Coast Guard spots the dog. The captain is still trying to talk our way in. But, they see the dog, that’s illegal animal smuggling.”
Sam patted Bosco’s head. “Sorry. I’ll go.”
Jon nodded and hurried off. The Piper was a well-run ship. She couldn’t guess what the Coast Guard was using as a reason to turn them away. But she’d played the games of Commonwealth politics enough to know that it could be as simple as someone’s having a bad day and wanting to throw their weight around. There could be another plague scare. Or maybe they’d heard about the incident in Airlie Beach.
“Bosco, theo,” she ordered in Vietnamese. Bosco obediently fell into line behind her, following as she weaved through the stacks of containers to the edge of the deck. “This is going to suck,” Sam said as she looked down at the dark water. The Piper was moving slowly, drifting on prior momentum rather than running her motors. But the Coast Guard was circling, four small ships herding the larger vessel back toward the open sea. She gripped the iron rail and looked down.
Bosco whined.
“It’s okay. We’ve swum farther. Remember the day on the sailboat? This will be just like that. We jump in. We swim. No problems.” She was lying to herself and the dog, which was possibly a new personal low. But every minute she hesitated, the shore of California drifted farther away.
She jumped.
Cold Pacific water pulled her under. Her feet tangled in only heaven knew what. Lungs burning, she kicked off her shoes and swam up toward the light. Everything around her was darkness. She looked up and saw Bosco’s silhouette against The Piper’s lights. “Bosco, nhày xuông!”
He whined, disappeared for a moment, then arched over the railing to splash down a few feet away. The cold water panicked him, and Bosco started flailing.
Sam grabbed him under the forelegs, but he was writhing. “Bosco, dùng lai. Stop. Calm down. Dùng lai.”
His paw clawed at the straps of her backpack and pulled her under.
She fought to get back to the surface, but the bag slipped. It was the money or the dog.
She let the bag sink and pulled Bosco’s forelegs over her shoulders as she kicked for shore. A quarter mile into the swim, Bosco climbed off her and began swimming alongside. A big, happy doggy smile on his face.
Sam frowned at him. “Now you like the water?” She snorted out seawater that washed up her nose with a wave. “See? Just like the sailboat.” Rolling onto her back, she kept swimming.
Larger waves rolled off The Piper’s wake as Hanshi turned on the engines. Before she reached the shore, one of the Coast Guard boats caught up with The Piper and she watched as a ladder was dropped. Unless someone had seen Bosco go overboard, no one had an idea where she was. The Coast Guard might find her luggage, but Hanshi could lie about that. Jon had seen her above deck. In time, she trusted the crew would figure out what happened.
Her hand hit rock, and Sam rolled again, clambering up so she stood with the waves ripping around her knees. “Welcome to California.”
Barefoot, sopping wet, and stinking of sewage, Sam walked along the shore to the curious looks of the late-night revelers. The Piper had been too far out for anyone to notice which craft she was likely to have jumped off, but there were going to be people tomorrow morning checking the news feeds to see if some heiress had fallen off one of the luxury yachts that dotted the coast like fireflies. All she could hope for was that the alcohol would fuzz their memories enough that they didn’t remember details.
“This is a shout-out to everyone looking for a better year in 2070!” a voice roared up ahead. “This song’s for you!”
Sam looked at the lights and the banner that read KJAM NEW YEAR’S EVE BATHHOUSE BASH. The word “bath” sounded promising, and parties meant food. Maybe she could find a dry T-shirt, too. “Come on, Bosco.” His leash had been in the backpack, but he wasn’t wandering. As long as they didn’t meet any overzealous cops, she felt safe. Her brain finally woke up, and she smiled down at Bosco. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
Bosco looked up at her and woofed as they walked up to the party.
Over the speakers, the lyrics to “Beachwave Romance” by Brandi and the Dawls threatened to ruin everyone’s hearing.
“You’re like a riptide,” Sam mumbled along, hips moving in time to the music. “A riptide to my heart. Pull me down. Pull me down. Pull down.”
Someone wearing an offensively bright pink shirt turned. He was sloshed. Reeking of cheap beer and sweat. “Hey! I like this song!”
“Yeah, me too,” Sam said. “Do you know if anyone here is not drunk?”
The guy shook his head. “Maybe the dudes in black.” He started bobbing his head to the beat of the music and wandered into the thickest part of the crowd.
Sam scanned the sidelines until she found three muscly black men with black shirts that said SECURITY. With a smile, she grabbed Bosco’s collar and pulled him toward the guards. “Hey, how are you guys? Happy New Year!” She shot them her best please-tourist-buy-my-overpriced-trash smile. “Can you help me?”
A heavily built man with his head shaved frowned at her. “You find a lost dog?”
“No,” Sam said. “This is my puppy. He got loose, and I ran after him without his leash. Or my shoes.” She grimaced and nodded down at her sandy feet. “The fireworks spooked him, and he went straight through my screen door and down the beach. Do you have, like, a lanyard or a rope or anything I can put on him to walk him home?”
The security guard blinked. “Yeah. Sure. The radio station has a bunch of stuff they’re giving out tonight. Want some flip-flops?”
“That would be amazing.” Sam upped her smile.
Bosco barked, and the guy jumped about a foot off the ground.
“That dog’s big enough to start a tsunami. Where’d you get him?”
“He’s a rescue,” Sam said, petting Bosco so he would calm down. “He’s friendly, but he’s loud.”
“Yeah.” The guy nodded his head to the side. “This way. I’m Dante.”
“Sam,” Sam said.
“You got a weird accent,” Dante said.
Sam smiled. “I was born up north. In Toronto. I came down here to get away from the snow.”
Dante nodded along with the music as the DJ switched to “Flare and Burn” by the Brute Beats. “I used to live in Portland.”
“What’s it like up there?”
“Rainy.” Dante led her behind the speakers to rows of boxes filled with T-shirts, flip-flops, beer cozies, and key lanyards that flashed neon rainbow. “Have at it. Anything you want.”
“You won’t get in trouble?”
“Nah, perks of being security. I’m allowed to give solar ladies like you whatever I want. You run into trouble, you give Dante a call.” He flashed her the two-fingered peace sign and went back to watch the partiers.
Sam rummaged until she found a T-shirt that would fit. It was the same bright pink the drunk had been wearing, but it smelled clean. Next to the boxes, there was an arctic-blue duffel with the words CABRILLO MARINE AQUARIUM. She stuffed two more shirts, a second pair of flip-flops, and a handful of the flashing lanyards in. After all, Dante had said she could take what she needed, and any change of clothes was good.
It took a few minutes to tie enough lanyards together to make a leash with a decent length, but Bosco accepted the new, hair-thin restraint wi
th amiable animal grace.
Clicking her tongue, she led him away from the party toward the public showers. Fireworks were going off in the west, and while the onlookers oohed and aahed, Sam watched the beach blankets for unattended shorts. She found a long white swimsuit cover sitting alone in the sand; it wasn’t too thin and would work after she rinsed the sand off. Closer to the showers, she found a pair of tan capris that were only a size too big and a light blue skirt, both sitting under a sign that said LOST AND FOUND.
“One more thing to discuss next time I remember to go to confession,” she told Bosco as she shook off the clothes and stuffed them in her purloined bag. They rinsed off as best they could in the tepid showers with the water pressure of a light drizzle. Bosco shook himself off. She changed into the shorts and one of the pink T-shirts and stuffed her salt-hardened jeans into the bag. “Okay, Bos. Where to?”
Bosco looked up at her with mild mastiff alarm.
“We need a car. I’m thinking . . . city impound?” If LA was like San Diego, the impound lot had cars that had been sitting there for decades. All she had to do was get one and get it out of the lot without anyone’s asking for an ID or an explanation. “Sure. No problem. We can do this.”
Mac, where are you when I really need a rescue?
CHAPTER 22
“One of the great traditions of war is to turn one’s enemies into one’s assets.”
~ General Levi Dankir speaking to the graduating class of Antwood University I3–2056
Day 199/365
Year 5 of Progress
(July 18, 2069)
Central Command
Third Continent
Prime Reality
A stack of thin, paper-sized plastic pages dropped beside Mac’s hand.
“That’s everything we have.” The man who went by only the name Donovan sat down in the chair across the table from Mac with a glare. “Do you really think you can solve a murder like this?”
Mac picked up one of the ultralight datpads with a grimace. “For me, it’s a five-year-old cold case. And, no, I’m not likely to be able to solve it without the rest of the data.” He flipped through the files. “Where are the other case files?”
