That prison level would be Clint’s new home.
The plane touched down gently and taxied into the hangar at the foot of the building. As the engine purred down to a quiet roar, the Hunters unlocked the cell and hauled him out. Aramis held one of Clint’s arms to maintain the Damper, while Porthos took the other. Athos led the way down the steps, and the group made its way to an elevator that carried them to the sixth underground level. The interior was dark and uncomfortably warm. Athos held his palm to a door, and after a light turned green, he pulled it open. Porthos and Aramis hauled him inside, saying nothing.
Clint was paraded through walkways lined on both sides by cramped Dampering cells. The faces inside were worse than lifeless, for while they maintained the youthful appearance enjoyed by all ambrosia users, their Energy had been drained from them. The long-term prisoners here had lost all hope. Those lifeless eyes and empty faces turned to watch him. It was disheartening, but it furthered Clint’s resolve. He would help all of these people escape.
One face, though, bore a different appearance. It was very subtle, and Clint doubted the Hunters had noticed. But there was a small spark in the man’s eyes, as if his Energy was suddenly, inexplicably, returning, and the man was quite certain he was imagining the sensation that had been absent for so long.
Clint knew better.
The pods of nanos Will had unleashed upon the prison level via the gash under Athos’ right eye were comprised of a material that nullified the Dampering effect of the prison cells. Freed of the Dampering, an Energy user’s stores would gradually replenish. Clint suspected the man would need more time before he’d allow himself to accept the truth, before he’d be confident enough in his recovered abilities to teleport outside. Clint would do whatever he could to help when that day came.
They reached cell 66 and the Hunters hurled Clint inside. Already deprived of his Energy, Clint didn’t notice anything different within the cell. He knew he’d be unable to teleport right now, but then again, he wouldn’t need to do so for quite a while.
Athos moved straight to the door of the cell. “Where is he?”
Clint frowned. “Where is… who?”
“Will Stark.”
“Sorry, Will can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message at the tone.” Clint added a rude sound effect to the end of his snide comment.
Athos blasted Clint with a burst of Energy that knocked the prisoner off his feet. “Where. Is. Will. Stark?”
Clint glanced around. “Why? Are you expecting him? You’re not very good party guests, by the way.”
“I stabbed him,” Porthos snarled. “He should be dead. He should have died on the spot that day, and we’d have his body to show the sniveling cowards of the Alliance that the great Will Stark is no match for the Hunters. But instead, he teleported away, farther away than even I could track. Tell me the truth: is Will Stark dead?”
“I certainly hope not.”
He felt the outside Energy grip him and pull him to the door, and Athos clapped a hand to Clint’s forehead. “Where is Will Stark?”
“No idea.”
Athos roared and shoved Clint to the back of the cell. “He doesn’t know.” He turned to Aramis and Porthos. “Now what?”
“We keep asking,” Porthos replied, “until we find someone who does know the answer.”
“And then we’ll track him down,” Aramis said, glancing at Porthos. “When we do? It won’t go well for Will Stark. We won’t take it easy on him this time.”
“I’m sure your scary words terrify Will, given your dominant historical performance against him.”
The Energy seized him again, slamming him into the front of the cell and then hurling him to the back once more. It hurt, but the taunt was worth it.
“We’ll stop by tomorrow to finalize the length of your prison term, Clint,” Aramis told him. “It’s safe to say you’ll be here for many decades, and you’ll spend that time watching as we fill these cells to capacity.”
Clint just smiled at him, and the Hunters walked off.
Clint let the anti-Dampering nanos embedded in a cut on the inside of his leg out, and felt the relief as his Energy stores rebuilt. He couldn’t let them grow too much—Porthos would notice—but a small taste of his own Energy each day would keep him full of hope.
And he’d use that hope to encourage everyone here on their escape day.
Aramis believed the prison level would change, believed the Hunters would continuously and dramatically expand the number of captured Alliance members housed in these cells. Aramis was right, in one sense. The prison level would change dramatically over the years.
The cells would be emptied, and the prisoners would be free.
Clint would ensure that it happened. He owed the late Will Stark that much.
IV
Parting
2010 A.D.
Pages were turned in rhythmic fashion, filling the living space with the sound of paper scratching against paper. Adam found himself mesmerized by the descriptions of a dozen different types of data encryption and a comparable number of data storage systems. Humans might not have reached the sophistication they’d achieved within the Alliance—after all, the Energy users had been storing data for centuries—but their imagination in this space was impressive.
Adam’s role had been the most difficult to find in the recordings of Will’s memories. They’d finally located him, indirectly, in a brief series of conversations Will and Hope held with their estate attorney. They’d referenced a secret third party, working in the background without public scrutiny or pressure, someone with veto power over the disbursement of the family fortune in the event of their deaths. Will had noted to Hope on the drive home that his data storage and security lead would be an ideal candidate for such a role.
Hope had nodded, the movements exaggerated. “He’s the first man I thought of for the role, because as much as you talk about the man, I feel like I’ve known him for… ages.”
Will had found the exaggerated statement confusing. But for Adam, Hope, Eva, Aaron, and the others, it was enough. She’d referred to the candidate as the “first man,” and they realized it could only mean Adam.
They knew Adam would need to stay close to Will and Hope, and have some reason for living in and around Pleasanton. Hope hadn’t given a name to the man, which suggested that Adam would take on a pseudonym in his work with Young Will. He would manage something related to data storage and security, whatever that meant. He’d need to get proper training and human credentials in the field, and ensure that his name and reputation reached the ears of Young Will.
Adam never worried that the subject might burden him mentally; after three hundred sixty-five years of living, he’d mastered the art of learning new and complex subjects. His greatest worry was that he’d find the subject dull. As he’d immersed himself, however, he found it to be just the opposite. The topic fascinated him. On each trip Outside, he picked up stacks of books on the subject, quizzing himself relentlessly, until he could talk at length about the differences in mirroring technologies, explain multiple encryption approaches, and opine about the strengths and weaknesses of major and minor players in the industry. He was, in short, fully prepared to walk into a college classroom and enter a prestigious, challenging program of study, despite not having a strong academic record he could present. The relentless self-study would, along with a future degree, prepare him for a human career that would bring him to Will’s attention in the future.
As a student preparing to enroll in college, Adam was required to fill out a myriad of forms related to financial aid. He’d declined to do so, because he had no need for such aid. He’d inherited his father’s fortune, and had combined that wealth with his own to build a truly massive estate with large cash reserves. He glanced at the costs of tuition, room and board, books, and various activity fees, though, and wondered exactly how people without his vast savings could afford the cost. He sighed. Perhaps one day the Alliance could f
igure out how to solve that particular problem. For the moment, though, he was grateful that he’d notice the expense of his education about as much as most would notice a penny dropped into a fountain.
He sighed at the distraction, and used the opportunity to perform a time check in relation to his current Cavern-related work. Like most working here, he rarely concerned himself with the precise hour of the day. Time was largely meaningless, creating a low-pressure environment that helped those in the Alliance to thrive in health and mental growth. The outdoor ambient lighting simulated day and night to provide the Alliance members living there with natural alterations of light they’d find in the world outside. Most kept the standard skylights in their home’s roof open to the “sun” to provide such basic life event timing. Adam typically did as well, but today, he needed the clock to tell him when to perform a check on the success of his own secret experiment. And the skylight was closed to prevent anyone from seeing what he was doing.
The quest had begun fifteen years earlier. Adam had been present at the birth of Will Stark, a man he’d considered a great hero and friend. Few members of the Alliance knew Will Stark was born in the year 1995, something they’d reasonably think impossible for a man all knew to be centuries old long before that year appeared on calendars. But Will would be rescued from certain death twenty years from now, rescued in a time machine that would eventually make a one-way trip to the distant past with Will as its sole occupant. He wasn’t sure why he’d done it, why he felt like he needed to be there. But in the end he became a witness to history, able to see the humble and tragic beginnings of the man who’d made such a profound difference in the world, who had been a friend to Adam’s own father, and who had helped the younger Adam understand his place in the world.
And while there, Adam had witnessed something none of Will’s memories had revealed, something Will himself had never known. He’d made a promise to the infant Will that day, a promise made with the understanding that no one else could ever know what he was doing… or why. Today, after over a decade of work, Adam might finally see his promise fulfilled. The clock gave a gentle chime, and Adam marked his place in the textbook and rose from his seat, shivering slightly as he moved.
His house was unusually cool, a fact most explained by noting that Adam had lived much of his life in northern climates and preferred less tropical temperatures. It was far warmer in the bunker where the experiment had been in operation since that day in 1995.
Adam had gotten the idea for the bunker under his house from the memory videos they’d recorded with Will. During one of the sessions, they’d asked where Hope and young Josh had gone when they’d disappeared. Will explained what had been related to him through his future contacts: Hope had teleported sufficient amounts of rock and dirt from beneath their house within the walls of De Gray Estates—the name of the community Will would build and where he and Hope and Josh would live—to permit the creation of a secret bunker reachable only by teleportation. There, she and Josh had lived until media furor surrounding the inferno had died down, and they’d emerged to begin their new lives.
Adam had chosen to work the farms in the Cavern since his arrival, and had used his profession and frequent daily visits to those farms to discard dirt and rock two pocketsful at a time. With the space cleared, he’d built walls, piped in breathable air from the house above, and set up basic lighting. He’d never known what he’d do with his secret lab; he’d built it simply because the idea held a mysterious appeal to him, the completion giving him a sense of accomplishment. Perhaps, he’d mused, it reminded him of the natural underground caverns hidden beneath the salty lake and valley of the island the Aliomenti had called Atlantis.
The bunker remained an empty amusement until he’d returned that day from witnessing Will’s birth.
He hadn’t returned empty-handed.
Will’s birth had been one of the most emotional events he’d ever witnessed. No one, not even Will or Hope, had known Will was a twin, that his sister had been stillborn, and that even in the womb Will had tried to pull her to safety. Adam, posing as an intern to explain his presence in the delivery room, had been tasked the unhappy chore of disposing of the dead child’s remains.
He’d left with both blood samples from Will’s parents—a gift he’d provided Hope in the event Old Will ever emerged and they found a need for that clean blood—and the infant’s body. Before leaving, he’d whispered a promise to the sleeping infant Will, promising that he’d do something to help the sister Will himself had tried so valiantly to save.
It had been a foolish promise. Adam had no power to bring the dead to life. The tiny girl was gone, and he’d been a fool to promise to do something for her. But he was true to his word, taking the infant’s body with him as he hopped into the flying transport craft that would take him back to the Cavern. If he failed to keep his promise, it wouldn’t be for a lack of trying.
He planned to store the remains in a refrigeration unit he’d built in the bunker. But he found, to his shock, that they weren’t remains at all.
The little girl’s heart was severely underdeveloped, and the lack of pulmonary strength had prevented the physicians’ sensors from detecting her pulse, brainwaves, or other signs of life. Adam, cradling the infant in his palm, had been shocked on his return journey to feel the tiny body move. The movement was faint, but he’d sensed it, and knew it wasn’t just his hopeful imagination at work. There’d been something else there: an emotion, a striving to live and survive. In that instant, overcome by an emotional presence far stronger than the tiny, dying body in his hands, Adam became a man possessed. The child lived, though barely.
He had a chance to keep his promise to Will. He would save her, and let her live the life nature tried to deny her.
He’d accelerated his flying craft past the mandated limits, setting off thunderous explosions behind him as he exceed the sound barrier, slowed to enter the ocean water at less-than-suicidal speeds, and accelerated forward once more through the water until he teleported into a shuttle pod already halfway to the beach inside the Cavern.
The passengers had been surprised at his sudden appearance, highly irregular in their experience. No one teleported to an already moving pod. Their faces asked the unspoken question.
“I… I really need to use the bathroom,” he said.
Everyone squirmed away from him.
He teleported directly home at the instant the pod reached the beach, heading straight to his private bunker. He hooked her up to a respirator, worked feverishly to aid her heart’s efforts to beat, injected a highly nutritious solution into her blood stream. Then, and only then, did he begin to work on her.
Her will to live was powerful, an urge she voiced in the telepathic communications the two of them held over the course of the years Adam worked to give her the life she so desperately wanted. Adam fed her with a near-constant stream of Energy, adding in what nutrition he could devise to feed into her body and brain. He managed to keep her in something like a coma, her body always motionless, struggling not to grow but just to live, while her brain, fed by the nutrition he injected, developed as well as it could in the limited physical space available. Adam thought of nothing else as he wandered among other residents of the Cavern, but in a city filled with people doing research of one form or another, finding someone immersed in thought was nothing unusual. Few paid him any attention.
During one of his outings, he spotted Aaron, and remembered the work the man had done with cloning. That gave him an idea. He would clone limbs and organs for her, regenerating the parts that failed, until he found success, bringing life to her body so that she could live and grow as any little girl should. But while her spirit was strong, Adam wondered if he’d be able to find an answer, to mold a body that would live, before that indomitable will began to crumble.
Thus far, he’d been working for more than a decade. She hadn’t quit fighting. And though he’d taken short trips Outside to maintain appearances, neither had he
, obsessing over her cure more than anything else.
Adam had run into the same problem with cloning that Aaron had long experienced and never resolved: the short lifespan of the bodily cells generated via the cloning process. Individual limbs and organs didn’t seem to suffer that fate; Judith’s regrown arm, for instance, still functioned perfectly decades later. Yet when he pieced individually cloned organs and limbs together into a new body, those body parts suffered the fate of full clones. It was a sort of reverse symbiosis, where putting multiple, long-lived cloned parts together limited the survivability of each.
He’d hit upon his newest hypothesis only a month ago, stunned he’d never thought of it before. If the cells were dying… why not infuse them with a fruit that eliminated the effects of aging upon human beings?
The latest cloning effort would be complete in just a few minutes, and Adam had no interest in waiting longer than necessary to see if the regrown limbs and tendons and organs showed the signs of health and permanence he’d sought for so long. It wouldn’t be the first few minutes that would matter; they’d gotten through plenty of first hours or first days. It would be that first week, two weeks, and first month that would tell him if his experiment had been a success.
A knock sounded at his door. The vibrations shook him deep inside, as if amplified far beyond their normal volume level, and Adam was startled from his thoughts. He glanced at the door and sighed inwardly.
“Come on in, Eva.”
Eva opened the door and walked in, nodding in his direction. She glanced at the textbook sitting on the table as she took a seat. “You are still studying for your role. You are taking no chances.”
“Will Stark sets high standards for the people he hires.”
“You will not be working for him immediately. You must first…”
“Go to college. Yes, I know,” he replied. “As best we can determine, by the time I come to Will’s attention I’ll have years of experience in this field, and may need to feign deep levels of experience even before I start my official studies.”
Preserving Will Page 5
