“I know that I’m damaged, but there is some logic…”
“No. You can never try to reanimate her,” Vachlan warned.
“Maybe not anytime soon. But science is a wondrous thing—maybe in 100 years or 200 years, they could find a way…”
“That can’t ever happen. If you bring Sionna back… with her brain damaged the way it was. She won’t be the woman she was. She could be too dumb to tie her own shoelaces. Unable to speak in simple sentences. She would be little more than an animal that looked like her old self.”
“Don’t say that,” Dylan said, sitting down on his bed. “I just want to have hope. I don’t have anything else to look forward to in life.”
“Also, it’s not just your call,” Vachlan told him. “Legally or ethically. Her sister should have a say in the matter—but even more than Visola, Princess Yamako and Sionna were basically married. You really shouldn’t do anything to Sionna’s body without consulting the princess.”
“I know,” Dylan said, “and I will tell Yamako. I just wanted a little more private time with Sionna to say goodbye, before sharing her with anyone else.” He pressed his hand against the glass near her face. “We had so much time stolen from us… I just wanted her for a few more minutes.”
Vachlan gazed at the scene before him with regret and pity for his friend, mixed in with his own sadness for the loss. There was something hauntingly beautiful about Sionna’s pale complexion and peaceful repose. “You win,” Vachlan said. “This is much better than my single strand of hair.”
“On the bright side,” Dylan said sarcastically, “if you lose that hair, I’ve got lots to spare. Their DNA is pretty much identical, so except for the sentimental value—the hair would have the same molecular makeup.”
“Thanks,” Vachlan said with a grimace. “That’s really romantic.” He suddenly snapped his fingers. “Their DNA! That’s it. Dylan, you’re brilliant. You might have just saved the entire world by keeping this body.”
“What do you mean?” Dylan asked.
Vachlan smiled and clapped his friend on the back. “This is the golden ticket, right here. We could use her to stop the war. We could fake Visola’s death.”
“No,” Dylan said.
“Yes—the USA wanted my full cooperation in capturing and killing Visola. So, maybe I should go to them, and offer my cooperation. If I can get Visola to agree to play along, and stop the attacks at the precise moment that the USA finds ‘her body,’ and declares her dead—we could fix everything.”
“There are many ways that any good doctor can tell that this isn’t Visola,” Dylan told Vachlan.
“So we’ll mess her up a little. We can have parts of her found in the remains of an explosion, with just enough of her face and dental records left to identify her.”
“A good forensic pathologist can tell that this woman has been dead for a little while,” Dylan argued. “The body begins to decompose…”
“You froze her,” Vachlan said. “I know that you would have barely given her a chance to decompose. It’s a feasible idea, right? This could work? This could potentially get the Americans off our backs?”
“Yes,” Dylan said, adjusting his glasses and frowning. “With enough damage done to the body, they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. They wouldn’t be able to tell that Sionna has never had children, or see her lack of caesarean scars, and dozens of other scars that Visola has… It is a good idea, Vachlan, but I’m not ready for you to take her away from me.”
“This might be the only way I can save my wife,” Vachlan told him. “This might be the only way I can get them to stop hunting her down. You know, after what she’s done—they will never let her live in peace.”
“I’ll consider it,” Dylan said sadly. “I know that a dead body is a small sacrifice if it can save many lives. But it’s Sionna. I don’t want any more harm to come to her. I don’t want her to be mutilated or injured. I just want to keep her safe and perfect, forever.” He sent Vachlan a small smile. “Yes, I know how creepy that sounds. Anyway, I also do know that Sionna would do anything in her power to help her sister. So, if this really does end up being the only way—if Visola agrees to fake her own death, and Princess Yamako agrees to use the body—then I will agree. I already know that Sionna would agree.”
“Thank you, Dylan,” Vachlan said. “It’s just an idea. I don’t want to take her away from you.”
“I know that I need to let go. I know that it’s the healthy thing to do.” Dylan looked at Vachlan with helpless eyes. “But I just can’t let go. I just want her back. The world was a better place when she was here.”
Vachlan grimaced. “Considering that a global war started due to her assassination, I would say that you are literally correct. Sionna is the new Franz Ferdinand.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dylan said, with a frown. “Don’t you feel it? The world is emptier now. The sky is a little less blue, and the water is a little less clear. It’s like she took some of brightness right out of the sun. It’s just so much darker.”
Glancing at Dylan with great pity, Vachlan nodded. “I feel it, man. I really do.”
Visola had been fighting alongside the Japanese forces to gain access to Cheyenne Mountain for hours. Due to the secure location of the bunker, and the extra vigilance of the American forces, it was proving to be an insurmountable task.
“Just get me access,” Visola repeated in a mocking tone as she crouched behind a boulder. “It’ll be easy once we’re inside. Spoiled princess is used to getting everything she wants.” She tried to peer over the rocks and fire a barrage of shots at the opposing forces. There seemed to be even more men defending the facility than before. “Sedna’s tampons!” she cursed. “Where are all these people coming from? Haven’t we killed them all yet?”
She was considering ordering her men to retreat, and coming back on another day. She was considering attacking a different facility. There were a few other important military bases that Princess Yamako wanted to gain access to, so that she could get to work on cracking their digital security and taking command of their weapons. Revenge was a difficult chore that required much patience. When a small airplane flew overhead, Visola pointed her rifle upward. However, there was no gunfire from the plane. She frowned in confusion.
“General Ramaris,” said one of the Japanese soldiers. “Something’s changing. The men are surrendering and granting you access.”
“What?” she said in confusion. “Why? That takes the fun out of the fight.”
“I’m sorry, General.”
“I was lying,” she told the man, with a roll of her eyes. “This fight was never fun. But this doesn’t make sense. Allowing us inside the mountain gives us the advantage. We can’t be trapped inside. I suppose they could release a gas of some sort once we’re inside, but we’re all equipped with gas masks and fully protective armor in case of such an emergency.”
“Should we go in?” the soldier asked.
“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “What’s the worst that could happen? Let’s see what kind of nasty surprise they have planned for us.”
Visola slowly rose to her feet, and was immediately surrounded by a tight formation of her soldiers. They formed a wall around her as she moved, keeping their weapons raised. The American soldiers had laid down their weapons, and placed their hands in the air. Visola frowned at the situation, as she moved forward. The 25-ton doors to the Cheyenne Mountain bunker were open, and her people were easily able to walk directly through to the inside.
Once they were deep inside the structure, she began to suffer from a very bad feeling. “Everyone put on your gas masks,” she instructed in a whisper, as she did the same. She moved forward stealthily with her weapon, confused by all the open doors and empty rooms. “Wait here,” she told her men, when she saw the silhouette of a person sitting in a room with a giant control panel and tons of electronics. “Don’t come in unless I give the signal that it’s safe.” Visola walked forward quick
ly but quietly as she approached the shadowy individual.
“Why did you let us in?” she inquired. “Who are you?”
When the man swiveled in his chair, Visola stumbled backward in fear and dove behind the nearest piece of equipment for cover. She forced herself to remember to breathe. She had not expected to come face-to-face with her greatest weakness today. Her body had broken out into a cold sweat, and her breaths were coming short and quick. In order to cope with her anxiety, she repositioned and tightened her hands on the grip of her weapon.
“Come now, Visola,” he said in a familiar voice. “There’s no need to consider me a threat.”
“You’re working against me,” she said breathlessly. “You’re helping the Americans!”
“I am just here to have a conversation with you,” said the man. “I don’t even have a weapon.”
She made a loud snort of derision which echoed throughout the room. “Please. You are the weapon.”
“I am your weapon,” he responded. “Only yours.”
Her eyes began to sting as she considered the very real possibility that she had been betrayed again. She bit down on her lip in frustration, for her stomach was flip-flopping at the sound of his voice. “If you’re not working with them, how did you gain access to this facility?”
“I told them that I was the only one who could help them capture and execute you, to stop the destruction of the United States of America.”
Hearing this, Visola scowled. “And how do you plan to do that?”
“If you come out here and look me in the eye, maybe we can have a real conversation.”
Pointing her weapon at him, Visola moved out of cover. She stared warily at the man with longish-dark hair, and sad grey eyes. She spoke his name guardedly in acknowledgement. “Vachlan.”
“This was a really great idea, Viso. Using their own bombs against them—simultaneously destroying their offense and defense. I’m really impressed and proud of the way you’ve embraced new technology.”
She squinted at him cautiously as she aimed her rifle at his face. “You’re helping them to bring me down.”
“No,” he said. He began unbuttoning his shirt, to reveal the wire he was wearing. He ripped it off and destroyed the small microphone. “They only think I am on their side. Visola—I haven’t seen you in months. Will you put the gun down and let me hug you?”
“No,” she told him, marching forward and pushing the barrel against his chest. The nozzle perfectly connected with a scar from a bullet wound that she had inflicted on him in the past. “I don’t want you or anyone else standing in my way. Don’t get involved in this situation, Vachlan. This is none of your business.”
“If it involves you, it involves me,” he told her. “Now will you listen for a moment? I have a plan to get you out of this. We can walk away, right now. You and me. We can be safe.”
“I have a plan, too,” she said furiously, “and I was in the middle of executing my plan when you got in my way and started wasting my time. What the fuck do you want from me, Vachlan?”
“I want my wife back.”
She recoiled as if he had slapped her in the face. She frowned at him, but lowered her weapon as she walked away to examine the computers in the room. “That’s not going to happen. You should go get a new one.”
“I liked the old one,” he told her. He watched her fiddle with the equipment for a minute, allowing his eyes to roam over her body with unbearable nostalgia. He cleared his throat. “They’ve erased all their sensitive data from the computers at this location. This facility won’t be of any use to you anymore.”
“Dammit,” Visola said, looking around in vexation. “I do like the layout, though. I think I’ll keep it. The interior design is really modern and minimalist. The grey is a nice neutral tone that will allow for splashes of color to really pop. I’m thinking I could add some throw pillows and curtains. Maybe some avant-garde paintings. It could be cozy.”
“Visola,” he said with a smile. “You should probably look for less high-profile real estate, love.”
“This will be a great new command center,” she declared. “I’ll give it to the Japanese.”
“Darling, I want you to tell me your plans,” Vachlan said. “I want to collaborate with you, and help you achieve completion. Then, I want you to cooperate with me so we can get out of this mess.”
She turned to glare at him. “Well, you seem to know enough about our strategy already. We’ve been deploying their own bombs, for the most part. Yamako is really close to gaining access to some great nuclear warheads, which we intend to scatter over the nation on Christmas Day—you know how land-dwellers love their Christmas.”
“That’s diabolical,” Vachlan said.
“Yes. But even if we don’t get these warheads—for example, if some prick like you gets in our way and cockblocks the operation—we have a backup plan.” She smiled at him sweetly. “Four new, state-of-the-art atomic bombs, built in Japan. We’re saving them for a special occasion. Midnight on New Year’s Eve—when everyone is gathered in Times Square to watch ‘the ball drop.’ They’re going to see a different kind of ball get dropped, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s cruel, Visola. That’s… almost too cruel.”
She shrugged. “It’s a taste of their own medicine. After New York, we have plans for Los Angeles, Chicago, and finally, Washington D.C.”
“That’s a lot of innocent people,” Vachlan responded.
“I know,” she said with a pout. “That’s the point. You shouldn’t kill innocent people.” She lowered her voice to a sarcastic whisper. “It’s not very nice.”
“They’re not all responsible for what happened,” Vachlan told her. “Most of them would probably be appalled if they knew of some of the mistakes their leaders made. But that’s all this was—a mistake, which you have already made them pay for. You need to let it go. You need to move on. Haven’t you gotten enough revenge by now?”
She lifted her gun and pointed it back at his chest. “It’s never enough. You’re here to sabotage me. They sent you as an emotional weapon to try to talk me out of this. It won’t work.” She shoved the gun against his chest harder, forcing him to step back. “Get out of this place. Get away from me!”
“No,” he said softly. In a single, fluid motion, he twisted the gun out of her hands, and grabbed her wrist, hooking a foot under her leg to slam her body to the ground. He maneuvered his weight on top of her, pinning her beneath him. “I’m not leaving you, Visola. You need to stop this. I know you’re in pain. I am not your enemy. I have never been your enemy—not even when I was, in fact, your enemy.”
“Get off me,” she said in a low voice. “I swear to Sedna…”
“You need to come home. You have two young children who need their mother. Ivory and Ronan ask for you every single day. They’re not upset that you’re gone, they just want to know that you’re safe. They want to know that you still love them. They want to hug you and tell you stories about all their little adventures. They need their mother.”
“Stop talking,” she screamed, struggling against him. “I don’t want to hear your guilt-tripping bullshit.”
“There’s no guilt. Only love. You have a family, people who love you. Poor Aazuria is lost without you. She’s so upset that she’s making poor decisions, like letting Prince Taranis Evenor take advantage of her. She needs you to protect her.”
Visola’s eyes displayed a flash of recognition. “Zuri’s in trouble?”
“Yes,” Vachlan whispered, lowering his face so that his breath brushed over her lips. He stared down with a wretched and pleading look in his warm grey eyes. “Visola, please. Instead of launching thousands of nuclear warheads, will you just cry and let me hold you?”
She studied him for a moment. “No, thanks. I like my original plan better.”
“Please, Viso. Please,” he implored her, releasing her from his iron grip and laying his palm gently against her cheek. “Launching those miss
iles will not bring Sionna back; she’s gone. But I’m right here, and I love you. I need you.”
“You?” she said quietly. “You? You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” she hissed. “You’re the reason Sionna’s gone. She was helping you when she gave you access to those diseases. You know it’s your fault.”
He swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.
“You left me,” she reminded him. “You left me alone for 200 years, for no good reason. You left your unborn child. Now you’re telling me to come home? I never chased after you. I gave you your freedom. You’re the one who set the precedent for behavior in this relationship, and if I want to leave… that’s my prerogative. That’s my right.”
“It is your right, but…” He took a deep breath. “I can’t do this without you, Visola. Don’t abandon me. I’m scared that I won’t be a good father.”
She shook her head. “I don’t care.”
“What are you saying? Of course, you care. Viso, you have to come home. If not for me, for them. I know I don’t deserve your love and presence, but the children do.”
She gave him a sick little smile. “There’s no point. You’re just going to get them killed eventually.”
“What?” he said in horror.
“You’re the reason Alycone was killed,” she told him bitterly. “I already have one dead daughter. And a dead sister. What do I care if I have two more dead children?” She lifted her head off the ground, putting her face very close to his. “Do it, Vachlan. Kill them. Go home and kill them, and add them to the list.”
“Visola!” he said in shock. “How can you say something like that?”
“I don’t care anymore,” she told him. “I have let go of everyone and everything. It doesn’t make sense, loving people in a world like this. They just get hurt and taken away.”
“That’s not true,” he told her. “We can change the world together, and make it better.”
“I am changing the world,” she told him. “Haven’t you noticed? I’m improving it, one crater at a time. There’s nothing left for me here. I recognized, before I started, that I was signing my own death warrant. I can’t ever think of going home—I’m not stupid. You don’t get to do what I’m doing and then live happily ever after. They’ll never let me go, as long as I’m alive. They’ll hunt me down, wherever I go. I started this, so I need to finish it. I’m taking it all the way.”
Maelstrom Page 28
