by Claudia Gray
“Take a few moments. Catch your breath.” Dad squints at the double-reinforced window in the landing bay door. “This is shaping up to be a decent break in the storm. We’ve had reports of another couple of refugees, via ships—looks like we’ll be able to land them. Who knows? Maybe one of them is Paul. It would be nice to all be together again.” He smiles softly, and I know the happiness within Dad’s heart is a mirror of my own.
Once Dad has gone back to running the station, Theo and I are alone again. I can’t resist. “Told you.”
“You did. You did tell me. But I had to see it for myself.” He shakes his head slowly. “I can’t believe Paul—that he figured all this out.”
“Me neither. When we get home, we have to go back to the beginning with Triad.” Then I think about how ruthless Conley is, what a risk I’m asking Theo to take. “I know it’s dangerous, taking them on. I’d never want you to get hurt. You don’t have to—”
“You’re worried about me?” Theo’s voice breaks on the final word. “You just found out they’re hunting you in multiple dimensions, and you’re trying to take care of me.”
We all have to take care of each other, I want to say, but Theo has risen to his feet, and he takes me in his arms.
“Stop it, okay?” he says as he hugs me tightly. “You’re the one who needs taking care of. Don’t waste your time worrying about me.”
We break apart, and Theo smiles as if he’s embarrassed, which coming from him is practically a first. Before I can speak, though, someone else walks into the room. I don’t remember who this guy is, if I even met him yesterday, but his coverall looks a lot like my dad’s, and he acts like he has some authority. “Ms. Caine, we need you on submersible duty. Someone’s got to go out and retrieve that fallen winch.”
Mom was talking about that this morning: a winch fell off one of the high cranes last night, buffeted by the winds. Now it’s on the ocean floor, on the not-horribly-deep shelf the Salacia occupies, but the stronger currents whipped up by the storm might push it into a deeper trench nearby.
So what exactly am I supposed to be doing? Submersible duty? What does that mean?
Then my eyes widen as I realize a submersible is an underwater craft. A submarine.
I’m on submarine duty?
“It’s a two-man vessel,” the guy says to Theo. “Your bio says you’re licensed as a pilot as well. Want to go out there with her? Make yourself useful as long as you’re here?”
“Yeah,” Theo says slowly. “Sure. Yes. I’m—very good—at, uh, at piloting submarines.”
The guy kind of stares at us, but says only, “Berth four,” before walking off, which is when Theo turns to me and mouths, Oh, shit.
“We’re supposed to be piloting a submarine? No. No way.”
“I actually ran some simulations on the way out here. This dimension’s Theo had them queued up on his computer anyway . . .”
“Theo, no.”
He gives me his best puppy-dog eyes—and believe me, his are really, really good—but finally says, “You’re no fun.”
“We can’t.”
“So what do we do?”
I run one hand through my wet hair. “We—we go to berth four, and—” And what? Say something is wrong with the sub? They’ll figure out that it’s fine and know we’re lying. “Then we call my father from there. He’ll send someone else down.”
We find berth four easily enough. The sub is not some huge, nuclear, Hunt for Red October sub; instead it’s tiny and curved, with bright white walls and smooth black touchscreen controls like a tPhone. Beyond the curved transparent dome in front is an endless expanse of dark blue water.
“Look at this,” Theo says as he studies the controls. “It’s just like the simulator. I mean, exactly like it.”
“Theo . . .”
He shrugs, but his face is lighting up in that wicked-boy way he has. “I played with it for hours on the way out here. It’s better than any video game ever.” Then Theo drums his hand on the back of one of the seats. “You don’t often get a chance to play a video game for real . . .”
“No. Uh-uh. No way.”
“Come on! I know what I’m doing!”
“Because you played a simulator game?”
“Because I logged about seven hours of practice time, and because we’re only supposed to go about half a mile before turning back around. And because this would be totally, legitimately, eternally awesome. You know in your heart I’m telling the truth.”
Eternal awesome, however elusive, is no reason to take off in a submarine. But there’s something underlying Theo’s enthusiasm, a wistfulness that betrays the sorrow inside.
He’s done so much for me on the trip. Risked his life to help my father. All he’s asking for in return is a few moments of fun. It’s not so much to ask, is it?
“If at any moment you have the slightest doubt about what you’re doing, we turn around immediately,” I say in the strictest tone I can manage. But I can’t help smiling when Theo begins drumming a hard rhythm against the seat, in celebration.
So five minutes later, we’re ready to go—and I have to admit, he actually seems to know how to handle this thing. “About to release the clamps,” he says. “Ready?”
I nod. So he flips the control panel toggle that releases this submersible from the Salacia. For a moment, we drift free, and then he turns the props on low, just enough to get us out of the underwater dock.
The front of the submersible is made of superthick glass, which means we have a perfect, panoramic view of the ocean before us. Right now it’s chalky white sand, a few fronds of fan coral jutting up from the rocks here and there, and the endless blue. Theo and I sit side by side in the front compartment, though the watertight doors to the back aren’t closed; he explained that since nobody’s going diving on this trip, we don’t have to seal it off.
That’s good, because otherwise this might feel a little too intimate. In a submersible there’s no room to spare, so Theo and I are practically thigh to thigh. I only wore a black tank top and leggings beneath my waterproofs this morning, so that’s all I’ve got on now. While Theo has on a normal white T-shirt, it’s still slightly damp from the rain. He’s not as big a guy as Paul, so sometimes I forget Theo’s pretty buff. There’s no forgetting it at the moment.
All I say is, “Uh, how do we look for the winch we’re supposed to be finding?”
“Activating sonar.” Theo’s hands move deftly on the control panel, as though he’d been doing this for a hundred years.
The green sweep of the sonar begins, and I squint down at the screen, trying to figure out which of the shapes are merely rocks, and which might be the equipment we’re looking for. “There, you think?”
I point at the shape I mean. Theo does the same. Our hands brush against each other, and I don’t think it was an accident.
“Yeah,” Theo says. He doesn’t look at me; his profile is silhouetted against the blueness. “Worth a shot.”
So he moves the submersible forward, taking us to medium speed. As we sweep forward through the dark, our spotlights illuminating the water around us, I keep glancing over at Theo, who seems to be struggling for words. Is he going to apologize for doubting Paul? Or is he going to try to kiss me again?
“You must be—” My words falter, because I don’t know what to say. “It’s good to know Paul was on the level all along. Right?”
“Yeah. Of course.” Theo opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it. He looks more tormented by this than I ever thought he would be.
Just then, Dad breaks in over the comm. “What the devil are you two doing in a submersible?”
“We’re handling it fine,” Theo insists. “And having a blast. Admit it; you’re jealous.”
“I’m worried. Also jealous, yes, but that’s about fifteen percent to worried’s eighty-five percent. How’s it going out there?”
“Fine so far,” I say, glancing up at the speaker in the roof. “We think we see
the winch.”
“Brilliant. I’ll take the worried down to about fifty percent, then. Listen, one of the refugee vessels just signaled. I thought I’d patch you in.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Talk to you later.”
Then there’s a moment of static as the original call is replaced by the new one, and I hear a deep voice say, “Marguerite?”
It’s like fireworks going off. “Paul. You made it.”
“Almost. I should dock within the next ten minutes.”
“And you talked to Dad?”
“Yes. Thank God he was here. From Triad’s files I thought he would be—but I wasn’t sure, not until we spoke.”
“Now we build another Firebird and go home.” I’m grinning up at the speaker as if I could see Paul there, yet all my happiness can’t blind me to the fact that we’re not alone. “Theo’s here too.”
“Hey, little brother,” Theo says. His expression is rueful. “Looks like you’ve been one step ahead of us the whole way.”
“I should have come to you at the beginning.” It’s impossible not to envision Paul’s face as he says this—grave and repentant. “I had no idea what they would do to Henry, or I would have.”
“Water under the bridge.” Then Theo looks up at the distant glitter of the ocean surface above us and adds, “Pun not intended.”
I still can’t believe Paul made it here. “Where were you?” I ask. “Did you set out immediately, or did you need a reminder?”
“I started toward you as soon as I got here. I don’t need the reminders any longer,” Paul says.
“Don’t need them?” I frown. Next to me, Theo sits up straighter.
“In the last dimension we visited, Triad has developed a way for its spies to remain in control throughout their trips. It’s this drug—damaging, and sometimes hard to get, so it’s not a permanent solution—but it works in short doses,” Paul says. “You can make it out of ordinary chemicals, easily found in almost any dimension you’d go to. They call it Nightthief. An injectable liquid, this brilliant green color—”
Paul keeps talking. I don’t hear a word.
Slowly I look down at Theo, who is looking directly at me. He doesn’t say anything; he knows I know.
Nightthief. The green liquid I saw Theo injecting in London. They’re one and the same.
Theo would never—
No. My Theo wouldn’t.
But this is not my Theo.
26
“NIGHTTHIEF CAUSES HALLUCINATIONS—INTENSE PAIN—but it buys you days of controlled consciousness. I knew I’d need to use it to reach you.” Paul continues speaking over the intercom, unaware that we can hear but are not listening.
I stare at Theo; he meets my gaze evenly, and in his face I see shame, but also relief. Like he’s thinking, At last she knows.
Everything in me rejects this. Theo wouldn’t. He’d never spy for Triad; he’d never hurt my family. He’d never hurt me.
My Theo really wouldn’t. But this isn’t my Theo, and it hasn’t been for a very long time.
Since before this journey began . . .
I scream even as Theo vaults toward me. “Paul, it’s Theo! Theo’s the spy!” But Theo snaps off the comm with one elbow as he pushes me back against the wall. I try to shove him off, but the sub is so small that I’m crumpled beneath him, unable to brace myself or get any leverage.
“Will you—just—will you listen? Okay?” Theo scrambles to keep me down, his forearms holding mine down. His brown eyes beseech me even as his weight bears down hard. “Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It was you the whole time. That’s why you had the Firebirds.” Of course—he didn’t keep the extras and “repair” them; this other Theo, from the dimension where Triad is one step ahead of us—he was able to use those materials to re-create their own superior technology. “You doctored Dad’s car and framed Paul for murder.”
“Guilty as charged, Meg.”
In his face I hiss, “Stop calling me that!”
Theo shoves me out of my seat, and we collapse onto the floor of the sub. I can feel the sub tilting downward—we’re going to run into the sand—but I can’t get him off me. His knees pin my legs down; his hands hold mine to the metal floor.
“Are you going to keep fighting me or are you going to listen?” He breathes out sharply, as if he’s the one who’s upset. “I can explain.”
“The hell you can.”
Theo presses down harder. His face is just above mine. “I came to your dimension three months ago. We knew your parents were on the verge of their breakthrough; as far as we know, you’re only the second dimension remotely comparable to ours to develop the tech. That meant we needed to form a strategic alliance.”
Three months ago is when he started using drugs, going AWOL for hours at a time, calling me Meg—acting different in every way. How could I not have seen it? Although I try to twist beneath him, I can hardly move. “Is this your idea—of—making friends?”
“Every alliance has a leader.” Theo’s expression truly looks more sad than angry. “Like every war has a general.”
“War? Are you even listening to yourself? Two dimensions can’t—go to war with each other! It’s insane.”
“Back in the day, they thought the invention of the airplane would make war impossible. You know, who could move troops in secret once people could look down from the air? But then someone thought of putting bombs in the planes, and everything changed. Every technology mankind invents, human beings turn against one another. It’s only a matter of time. If we don’t start the battle, another dimension will, and they might be a hell of a lot worse.”
I remember Conley’s speech in the Londonverse, about how warfare evolves along with us. That stops me short for a moment. I’m no less furious at Theo, but the idea of what could be out there—watching, waiting, looking for a moment to strike—
Theo nods, suddenly hopeful. “You see now, right? We have to band together. We have to take the power for ourselves, before it’s taken away from us.”
“Nobody’s threatening you.” My wrists hurt; his grip around them is harder than handcuffs. “You’re the ones who went on the attack. Don’t pretend you’re not.”
He keeps talking like I hadn’t said anything at all. “When I came over, at first I was supposed to slow your parents down a little bit—let us get a little farther ahead—but it was already too late for that. What I could do was create a traveler. A perfect traveler. You only get one chance per dimension, you know. Conley is ours. For your dimension, out of everyone else in the world, he chose you.”
“Wow. I feel really special,” I spit back at him. Literally—our faces are that close. The sub is rocking now, rudderless, the white crescent of sand tilting through the window. “So you let them kidnap Dad?”
“Paul was screwing everything up. They took Henry, and I—you know, I drove his car to the river, messed with the brakes, made sure it went over the side. If the car went into the water, you guys wouldn’t expect to find a body right away, if ever. It was just about buying Triad time.”
Of course. Theo’s always been the one working on cars. Why didn’t I realize he’d be the one to cut somebody’s brakes? “You let me think Dad was dead. Mom still thinks that, and Josie too. Did you even ask yourself what you were doing to us?”
“Come on, come on, listen to me, will you? Do you understand how much power this gives you? This is a huge opportunity, if you’ll just take it.” Theo shakes his head; there are actually tears in his eyes. “I’ve hated lying to you. To all of you. What I feel for you, it’s not only what your Theo felt, you know? It looked like I didn’t have a chance with you in my own dimension, and when I realized I might get another shot, I wasn’t going to waste it. But I didn’t take advantage. You know I didn’t. In London, I held back. I wanted you to make your own decision. I said, when we were both ourselves, remember?”
“Yeah, you deserve a medal.”
“I swear to God, if I could get
you out of this whole mess, I would. But I can’t, Marguerite. I can’t. The only way I can save you is by getting you to see how you have to play this.”
“‘Play this’? It’s not a game, Theo! You would’ve killed Paul.” By now I’m as close to crying as Theo is, though mine are tears of rage.
“I was always going to come clean eventually. What do you think was going to happen in Lab Eleven? What Conley was going to tell you if you’d made the meet at the Dragon Gate? We were going to tell you the truth, the whole truth, make you see that you could get Henry home safe and sound. Conley was bringing you on board! Don’t you get it? The smart move here is to join him. Join us. If you join us, you’ll never be hurt again. Not ever. I’d spend the rest of my life making sure of that, Meg. I promise you.”
You mean, you were going to blackmail me by holding Dad hostage. I’m on the verge of shouting that back at Theo, trying to snap him out of his delusions about Conley—but then the sub shifts more violently beneath us, and I see the entire view turn white with sand. I scream just before we crash.
The sub grounds out, with the grinding of propellers breaking against stone. We tumble over and over, Theo and me bouncing away from and into each other, a dozen small collisions that all seem to draw blood. I manage to grab onto my seat as the submersible skids over the lip of the trench, and we begin to tumble down into the infinite deep.
Theo told me earlier—this submersible will only hold to about 1,500 feet. After that, the underwater pressure will crush us like a fist around a soda can.
“Shit.” Theo braces himself against one wall, then pushes forward to the control panel. He tries to restart our propellers, but the terrible grinding sound they make tells us they aren’t working. The gauge reads 650 feet—700—750—
I swing into my seat, trying to ignore the terrible bobbing and scraping that’s taking us farther down into blackness. “What do we do?”
“We try to hang on.” With shaking, bruised hands Theo activates the retrieval clamp; it swings out, trying to find purchase.
