Jacob picked up the handset. "Yes?"
"Mr. Wallace, Ted Granger."
Jacob leaned forward, straining to hear his voice over the dull thrum of the jet engines, "You have an update?"
"Yes sir. Our sources inside a number of the leading US houses have confirmed that their man, Gabriel, made contact with her seventeen hours ago. But they've heard no word from him since."
He looked out the large window to the Italian countryside passing below. "What are the odds he's still in there?"
"…" Ted's voice faded.
"Wait just one moment if you would?" Jacob pulled the headset away, angled his head to focus, fidgeted for the volume control, clicked it up before returning the phone to his ear. "Would you mind repeating your last?"
"I said that seems unlikely to our own analysts. Our sources say he had a rather robust tracking system on him. Multiple units. But they all went dark at once, shortly after he made a covert entry to their residence."
"Not unexpected. Although I'm curious, Ted. That seems like rather optimistic phrasing. About his entry?"
"That's our consensus down here as well. We're pulling 'covert' directly from their quotes. But that seems doubtful for the obvious reasons."
"Independently, where do we think their man's gotten off to?" He wiped at fingerprints on the lacquered walnut armrest, only smearing them.
"There's no anonymous access to airspace, or solid video control of the Vegas metro area these days, but he hasn't shown up outside that grid either. We were able to pull the frequencies, did our own quiet sweep using the global nets, but nothing. Our leading theory is that his tracking units were discovered and disabled. They've probably moved him to wherever they move people."
"Trailing theories?"
"Usual caveats and disclaimers apply, but if the trackers are intact, 'not presently on the land-surface of the earth' covers all three competing secondaries pretty well. Which may not be mutually exclusive with the prevailing, for what it's worth."
Jacob nodded. "Indeed. Any help from the seekers?"
"Same problem we had with Andersen. Art's not helpful. Would make sense that they could be co-located by now. So whatever's causing the disruption might be shared. Last note, there's some chatter within the broader North American tiers that a few small sections of the US network are possibly at risk of compromise. Andersen and Gabriel have been trained in resistance, but you know there's a clock. One that passed weeks ago for Andersen."
"Thanks, Ted. Please do keep me informed if there are any material changes. For the rest, it hardly matters. I'm less concerned about the welfare and security of their network. Compartmentalization exists for a reason. And if we do this next part right, she'll see it all anyway. If not, well, it will be more difficult for high profile individuals to change identities, but they understood the risks."
"We're updating models, but our take, the worst case is less than .7% within the US system at play. A handful of legislators at national, some lower tiers with public profile. Everything else is elastic."
"They'll recover. Thanks again, Ted."
"Take care, Mr. Wallace. Safe travels."
Jacob replaced the handset in the cradle.
Considered.
Give them a day.
Chloe kneeled. Slowly, carefully, she brushed the loose strands from Max's eyes. Fingertips nearly touching skin.
House lights were dim, set to a sort of low sunset orange. Living room TV was on, but muted, pulsing blue light and shadows between the walls and glass. The part of Chloe that was the building reached out, killed power to the screen, calming the room.
Max's eyelids parted, found Chloe's gaze. She brightened. Breathed softly, "Hey."
Chloe touched her lips to Max's forehead, eyes closed, whispered, "Hey, doll. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. Shhh. Go back to sleep." Her hair held traces of lavender scent, but Chloe tasted cinnamon on Max's skin for some reason.
Max arched up off the sofa, stretching her back. Squinched her face. "Ehhhn. No, it's okay. I'm glad." She yawned, "Emo was holding me down earlier. I was defenseless against the cute." Max pushed herself up on one elbow.
Chloe leaned in for a kiss. "I know that feeling. Mm. Missed you."
"Me too." Max's free hand slid behind Chloe's neck as she returned her kiss. Pushed and pulled herself all the way up, locking her other arm behind like a kickstand. "Thanks for hanging out with me today though. You make a really cute bird. Birds."
Chloe nudged. "Yesterday. And you're a cute bird. Dork."
Max made a face. "You're a…dork. …cute…bird?" Cracked herself up, eyes down. Batted them as she found Chloe's again, hair fell forward, hiding half her face.
God, she's so Max right now… Chloe laughed, shook her head. "Uh-huh. You eat?"
Max let herself fall back, pulled Chloe over her. "Uh-uh. Not yet. Wanted to wait for you." Gave her another kiss.
Chloe whispered, "Didn't have to, but that's sweet. Um, maybe we can go out? If you're feeling up to it? Super late though."
"It's early somewhere. I'd like that; it's been a little while." Max continued with soft little kisses to Chloe's face and neck.
"I know. Sorry."
Max paused, met her eyes from a breath away, "It's okay. Date night, midnight edition? What are you in the mood for?"
Chloe thought for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe that cute little noodle place in Kyoto? By the water? If you don't mind driving?"
"No, it's cool. They're super yummy. Here. Off." Max pushed at Chloe without conviction, failed. "Ehn. Lemmie go change. Less you wanna come help?" she added with mischief in her voice.
Chloe reluctantly pulled herself off Max. "Tempted as I am, I…really need to eat something. And if I 'help', we won't. Revisit when we get back?"
Max considered. "I accept your conditional surrender…"
Juliet finally had her room to herself.
Elliot retreated to his own a few minutes ago, leaving her to organize her notes from this morning. It was late. Her face reflected harshly in the window overlooking the artificial lake and fountains of the Bellagio. Unflattering, disembodied; cold blue notebook glow. She stared into her own eyes, defocused.
Conflicted.
Told herself she'd struggled with the decision. Using her connection to Max to put herself at the head of the line. But she knew it wasn't really true. Once the idea came up, she didn't hesitate. But now that it was real, she wasn't sure she liked what that said about her.
Using Max while the paper uses me to get to Max…
We're all assholes, aren't we?
Come on. Be honest though…
How jealous are you?
Thought so.
The air unit on the wall kicked to life, loud, annoying.
Wasn't even warm. Just moved room temperature air around.
They came out like it never happened.
Advantage of not making any real friends, I guess. No one to…
No…that's so not fair.
Not their fault Zach…Dana…didn't…
Shit…
Remembering faces. A laugh. Two.
…thought I was past this.
She looked away.
Dammit.
I miss you, guys.
We would have lit the city up…
She looked out, past herself. Watched the lights play through the fountains for a few minutes.
Turned worn thoughts over in her head.
They had each other. That's why…
Okay, come back. So is it wrong to be curious about the truth? The real story?
Even if it ends up hurting them?
I mean…I know she's not a sociopath or a scammer or whatever Elliot's thinking…
Then what is it?
There's no way. I mean, come on. Shy little Max. Right.
That was a cute blouse though…
If there's nothing weird, there won't be anything to find.
Okay, but back to the beginning.
Back to the money.
Ugh.
Fuck you, dude.
Putting your stupid cynical paranoid bullshit into my head.
But you know he's right.
Yeah, but…what if this turns into a real expose?
It's not what I intended…
Well, which is important?
Being a real journalist…or the feelings of an old acquaintance who…never quite crossed the line to friend…
That's…harsh.
True.
Different circles was all.
You're just tired.
Crabby.
She was nice today.
Not some master manipulator.
But…it still has to be about the story, right?
That's the north star.
It has to mean something…
Not personal.
Maybe it should be?
How many of us are left?
I don't…I don't know…
Back and forth. No winners in her head.
Too late.
She went to close her notebook. Remembered the drive.
Fished it out of the side pocket of her purse.
Seriously though, who was that guy? He said it was encrypted, but he didn't even know what was on it?
Why? Who wanted me to have it then?
What the hell's on this thing?
She turned it over in her hands. Light. Blocky. Just a cheap plastic thumb-drive.
Plugged it in.
::Device not recognized.
Of course.
That would be way too easy, Jules…
Maybe Alex could help?
Once I'm back on campus…
Chloe took a swig of her Asahi. Late morning, local time. The shop had only just opened, but their food was already on the way. She thanked the server in Japanese. Another language they shared in common. Truth be told, Chloe knew all of them now, and made up a few of her own, but this was another one Max knew too. Even if Max had to learn all of hers the hard way.
They shared a small dark table up against the front window, across the street from the lake.
Max sipped at her steaming tea, continued in Japanese. "How's the thingy downstairs coming along?"
"It's still pretty early in the process. It's delicate, super fuckin' complicated, but…there's some autopilot time too. Don't worry, I'll…get it done." Chloe spoke a little too sharply, frowned, looked outside through the blur of passing cars to the water. It was too grey out there. She hoped for sun.
Max leaned in, touched Chloe's fingertips across the table. "Hey, I know, babe. I only meant…"
Chloe looked back, pulled her hand out from under, placed it back on top of Max's. "Sorry. Sorry. That was me, not you."
"It's okay. Here. Noodles ahoy." Max leaned back as giant wooden bowls of ramen found a home on the table.
Chloe thanked the server again. Turned back to Max. "Thanks. I mean, you know…"
"Yeah… It's okay, Chlo. It's just us."
Chloe nodded, scooped up a knot of hot noodles with her chopsticks, shoved them in her mouth, crossed her eyes and made a fish-face at Max as she sucked in the end of the noodle.
"Goofball. But seriously. I feel like we haven't talked in days. Like, how are you holding up in there? Really?"
Chloe took a second to chew. Shrugged. "Bout the same I guess. Trying to stay busy. I mean…sooner I get that shit fixed, sooner we'll have a better picture of what's what, right? So…"
Max made a sad-face. "Yeah…but you still have to take care of you." Half-shrugged herself, "I mean, we don't know who, what, why, the timescales involved, nothing. Right? I mean, we could have millions of years before this is even a thing we have to worry about… And we don't even know what that means. Space is…well, big, I guess."
"No, we talked about this…I know. I know… This is um, just how I'm trying to deal right now. You know? I trust you, duh, obviously. And I trust whatever future versions of us left all this shit behind… But that's part of what worries me too. Why here? Why now? Like, if this is millions of years away, why drop it on us now? We don't do things without a reason, Max. We're gonna spend at least two years in the past setting this up at some future point…like, I just…I feel a legit sense of urgency to get this shit going. There's way too much uncertainty."
Max rested her elbows on the table. Poked at a radish. "That's fair. But you're right. We don't know the reason why we did it this way. But it doesn't mean there's an immediate threat. You wouldn't have held information back from yourself if that was true. Shit - if that was true, we probably would have dumped all the info we could a couple of years back…"
"Maybe. But you know how twitchy fucking with time can really be. We still don't even have a master ID list for them. I mean, that totally bugs, but there must be a good reason still, right? Even if we don't know what it is? But for now, all it means is that we don't know."
"Yeah… I get it. But maybe it's just not time yet…" Max took a sip. "So you've said there's downtime too though, right? Are you taking a break down there at all? Do I need to come fuss over you? I could bring you a sack lunch tomorrow or something if you want? Blanket… We could have a little lab picnic?"
Chloe thought about it. "That's…actually that would be nice. Could just show you what we're doing then. But I'm not really chillin' on the side or anything, you know, it's busy… The build team is helping with a lot of the setup and macro stuff, I'm translating designs, monitoring all my little gooey grey minions as they do the bulk of the micro-scale work. Which grows to be the macro. But I've, uh, picked up an old project on the side for the downtime. Back-bench in the lab. Idle hands…"
Max slurped, "Okay, tell me about it?"
Chloe shook her head, "It's stupid, dude. Something I started a while ago. I'll show you when we head back if you want. But…I kinda went through this period where, you know, you'd be out doing your SuperMax thing, changing the most fucked up parts of the news and stuff… I'd be home, watching what they replaced it with - which wasn't ever any better, really. Different shit than what you said happened before you changed things. But still…shit. It's like no matter what you fix, they never run outta bad news."
Max nodded, slurped a long noodle, flinging soup back at her face.
Chloe reached over, dabbed at Max's cheek with a napkin. Continued, "Just once, I'd like to hear 'em say 'and since nothing bad happened today, there's no news. Here. Have a live feed of some frolicking puppies for the next week instead.'"
Max snorked. "I'd totally watch the shit out of that."
Chloe agreed with a nod and a shrug. "Yeah…anyway. Guess I started out of frustration last summer. After watching one goddamn war zone on TV fade to the next… The really big stuff. They never show the idiots fighting. It's always like these abstract bodies of civilians left behind. Frantic people trying to dig their families out of all this fucking rubble with their bare hands… Look, I know it was OtherChloe and not me, but all that shit you guys went through still feels real to me too. You know? Being on that side of it, I mean. I remember how helpless you both felt at certain points over there. And, I don't know… Rubble is just like this kind of universal symbol of ultra-shitty human behavior to me now. Never really left."
Max nodded.
Chloe took another swig. "So I had this thought. It's fuckin' dumb as shit, but like, what would it take to stop some of this really heavy bad myself. If we had to, I mean. You can't be everywhere at once, and…well…I don't know - I think I could, maybe. And I wanted to explore some way, some kind of something we could like drop into the middle of a hot zone if we had to… Just kinda own an area and stop shit from escalating. I mean, I don't give a fuck if people volunteer to fight each other in the middle of nowhere. That's on them. But you know. That's never how it happens…"
Max paused, took a quiet sip of tea. Listened.
"So I maybe kinda designed a few new families of drones. Only, like, all-in this time. No pretense at passing for near-modern tech. Same with bots and um…another body? Still a prototype. You know, better for that kind of thing. Remote. Something to slip into, like I do with everything else. Worked on it in my head and down there, off and on for a while…" Chloe rested her chin on her hand. Grabbed a lazy noodle.
Max reached out, took hold of Chloe's noodle-hand. "I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything?"
"Well, I, uh... put it on hold anyway. Then, I mean, you know. I've always got dozens of projects going at once. This was just another one. But, change of priorities. Happens. Started spending more time in bio, more time with physical science teams in general. Working on all kinds of shit. But... after we found the vault…"
"We both felt helpless, Chloe. I get it. I mean…"
"I know. I know. But I uh, started it back up again. In those down-cycles. Told myself it would be good to have an extra pair of hands if nothing else… but I know it's more than that. Not that it would do fuck-all against any anything out there." She waved her hand vaguely at the ceiling. "Well, who knows? Maybe with enough of them eventually? Whatever…but…it's something to do."
Max chuckled…
"What? I'm being serious here…"
Max, still laughing to herself, "No, sorry. It's just…you realize you're totally channeling Stark right?"
Chloe, confused, "Ary?"
Max laughed, "I heart Arya. And I guess even Ned could apply in the meta 'winter is coming' sort of way, but no, I was thinking Tony. Iron Man 3?"
"Why do you…oh…shit. Ugh." Chloe, elbows on the table, palms to her temples. "You're such an ass, dude…"
Max slurped another noodle. "Not wrong though."
Chloe shook her head. "Shit…down to the existential fucking freak out over aliens, right? God, I can't even have an original freak-out overreaction? Why do I have to be this fucking derivative?"
"Chloe - you're never that. Oh - watch out for your hair with the soup. And like, big deal. We all deal with this crazy shit in different ways. Or don't deal. I mean, look, it's okay. Not even the first time the idea's come up. So you went out and built an IronChloe suit…"
Chloe laughed, took a longer swig. "…I hate you. And, you know, it's really nothing quite that elegant…"
Max gave her a playful look. "So not even rocket boots?"
"Nope. Sure as shit putting them on the next rev now, though. You just watch. Or I'll raid Parker's locker and just go straight to anti-grav… All the spinning rims…"
"Hmmm. Okay. So wait, like, are we talking…metal and plastic robot body, or more, you know…fully…functional bodies? …askin' for a friend."
"Synthetic…oh…I see that look. God, you're such a little perv!"
"Me?! You know you were thinking it first. And…not like I'm gonna say 'no'."
Chloe couldn't help but laugh.
I know what you're doing…
Chewing, she lightly bumped Max's foot under the table. With a slight nod, eye contact, "Thanks."
Max gave her a minor shrug. "It's ok, Chlo. You know we got this, right?"
Max left Chloe upstairs, folded herself down to see it once they got home. Night mode. Half the lab was lit from below in a cool, diffuse sort of aqua coming through the frosted subfloor. Highlighting arms and spheres within spheres and what looked like a something half grown from a core seed in an open shell.
The other half of the lab was unlit, mostly reflecting back the glow over soft shadows. Racks stacked with curious shapes, parts. Boxes of tiny black bearings or something? And, a long segmented tentacle of some sort? Shimmered.
A movement in the dark caught Max's eye.
She walked toward it as the pale white figure rose silently from a workbench. Smooth. Featureless. Legs over the side, it hopped off to stand. Spoke with a version of Chloe's voice. "Dude. 'Sup?"
Hair cycled from black to white and back again.
Max, circled, fascinated, "Woah. This is super cool, Chlo…"
Chloe flexed her arms. Rotated a hand. "Still only a prototype. Load testing joints, defensive tech. Few more revs before the real deal. Not done yet."
"Obviously. Still missing all the grown-up parts…" Max grinned.
Chloe crossed her arms smartly across her chest. "Shut up… it's a combat skin."
Max touched the shoulder, ran her fingers down one arm. "Not skin. But still soft."
"I feel that. But…since it's just a remote…this outer layer is more like the suits ops has been beta testing. It goes deeper though…modified one of OtherChloe's material recipes with a few tweaks of my own. Cooperative liquid nano-bots. Well, semi-solid or liquid… Almost more like a shark inside; nothing's totally rigid. Any bit in the volume can work with others to act as structure, muscle, whatever. Designed from a blank slate. The mechanics of movement are completely different. Push and pull in the same instant. I'm way fast compared to what I used to be, but this is so much faster. Still working out a few lag and timing issues as a result, but it's, uh… Tougher. Stronger. Designed to be a purer expression in some ways. For a purpose, you know. So…yeah?"
Max walked around, hands tracing around the back, fingertips following the indent down along the spine. "Same size and shape as you. Even resembles your face a little."
"Figured it would be easier for peeps in the field to relate to. While keeping it far enough from human to avoid the whole uncanny-valley-killer-robot aesthetic. Soft surfaces, friendlier. Could make so you couldn't tell if I wanted, but to be honest, I borrowed a few design cues from that Ghost in the Shell reboot from the 40's. What? It's not copying if it hasn't happened yet. They'll show up more in the next rev. Along with surveillance, ECM, weapons systems… Loads of extra space without all the differentiated organs and stuff too. Anyway… this is it. Her."
"She's really amazing, Chlo. I don't even know what to say."
"Thanks. Not just me. I still feel like I'm only scratching the surface here. I mean, your old girlfriend was pretty fuckin' smart. This is a work in progress."
"Weirdo. And, aren't we all?"
"Come back up? I think there was some sort of plot to undress you or something? Remind me how that was supposed to go?" Chloe hopped her ROV back onto the bench, powered down.
Margaret pressed. "Why do you feel she made that choice?" She sat comfortably in the high-backed chair opposite him, pen in hand, notepad in her lap.
He filled out his blue jumpsuit. Occupied one side of the couch in the common room, arm covering an armrest. "You mean why did she kidnap and dump me here?" challenged Gabriel. He was clearly angry, but appeared to understand his position. Behaved.
Guards stood outside the open doors.
Margaret acquiesced, "As you like."
"She has no respect for parley. For rules, traditions. Expected courtesies. I meant her no harm, I wasn't even armed. I was only there to talk. Broker a deal."
Margaret countered in her best 'disapproving grandmother' voice, "Unannounced, without a prior agreement of time, place, or ground rules. You did break into her house, rather like a criminal."
He sighed, frustrated, "Only as a last resort. I tried channels for weeks, tried to get an appointment to see her, but that wasn't getting me anywhere."
"She's often terribly busy. You must understand. But, back my question if we might? You criticized her behavior, and, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you still haven't answered. Why do you think she brought you here?"
"Same reason she does anything at all. Because she can. Because she still believes there won't be any consequences to her actions."
"And you're convinced there will be?" she arched her brows.
He frowned, "She's too powerful to be here and she knows it. There's an order to things, but she breaks across it all. She's young, spoiled. Maybe it's not her fault, but it's the same in the end. She does whatever she wants without consideration of the collateral damage, which makes her a persistently unpredictable threat to everything and everyone. It can't stand for long. Once this opens up, it gets bad for all of us. If we can't come to some agreed framework or accommodation, it's only a question of time."
She smiled, "That's funny."
"What?" he asked, annoyed.
"Oh, apologies, I thought you were making a little joke. Never-mind."
She'd framed this conversation to him as a necessary precaution. Disarmed, downplayed her own role significantly. No mention of talents. Just another admin. Bureaucrat. A cog of little importance. Told him this was standard - part interview, part threat evaluation. Something they'd commonly done to differentiate between the well-meaning majority - and the real criminal minority they encountered over the years. Which, surely, a gentleman like himself couldn't be. After a few sessions, they'd likely release him outright, or turn him over to law enforcement. Depending in part on her evaluation of his character, intentions and the specifics of the situation that lead him here.
Margaret played the familiar role of therapist and psychologist. While gently, invisibly, probing for surface thoughts or opportunities to dive deeper. Worst case, she'd toss him in Andersen's world to see if either let their guard down. But she wanted time with him alone first. Andersen was a special case. There was an even chance she'd have unfettered access to Gabriel's thoughts within a couple of hours if she played him correctly.
She continued, "Tell me about this deal you wished to make?" She caught a fleeting feeling from him. A sense of reversal of fortune, or…opportunity.
He paused. Lifted one leg to rest his ankle over the other knee, casually asserting space. "We want Andersen freed. That's all."
"Go on." She waited.
He continued, "In return, my employers are prepared to offer significant financial compensation for the inconvenience he caused, and a promise that this kind of unsanctioned operation won't be repeated."
Half-truths. Wiggle words. She didn't need her talent to pick those out. After a moment of projected reflection, she replied, "That's not for me to decide, dear, but…I agree that she should hear your offer. If not her, someone. I only wish the circumstances of your attempted delivery had been different. You could have avoided all of this, and she might have been more receptive. Seems like a simple enough mistake in judgement."
He nodded. Picked up a throw-pillow on the side, tossed it up. Watched it slowly return. Finally asked, "I know I won't get a straight answer, but I have to ask… The gravity thing, what kind of tech is this?"
She smiled, "It's okay, it does no harm to confirm. There's no tech involved. We're inside one of our many lunar facilities."
His face blanked. Margaret saw that his immediate surprise shared headspace with rapid calculations, processing the myriad implications of her revelation. Too many. Amidst the tangle of furious mental activity, his more immediate concentration flagged.
To Margaret, his walls simply fell away.
From the top. Twenty years of intel, all buried in there somewhere. Names, dates, companies, crimes…and some good works as well. Would take her a while to go through his mind. She was more linear that way. No way to contact Max before her return. She'd do what she could in the next day, get the outlines. But Sophie should really be the one for bulk extraction. Her gifts operated on a very different level. By way of a different mechanism, they strongly suspected.
She scanned for abstract engrams of leadership. Cartoon characters. He didn't know them. Followed the threads. Families? Legacies? She'd always suspected… But so far back? Shifted. Senators. Congressmen. Some insiders, others on leashes. Surveillance. Blackmail. Leverage. Or just straight influence trading.
Of course.
Jotted a few quick notes.
"Any chance I can get something to eat? Could use a break." he asked. Unaware that she was in his mind, or that his ambient blocks were no longer functioning.
"Anything you'd like, dear. I'll phone the cafeteria." She pushed a plate toward him. "Here, have a cookie while we wait?"
Ariel shot up. Ripped off her headset and threw it into the nearest wall as hard as she could.
"Fuck!"
She turned back, screamed again into the holo, "You god damned piece of shit motherfuckers!"
Heads turned her way. She wasn't prone to outbursts. The ops floor silenced as she slammed the desk again. Somewhere behind, her chair bounced off a desk, rolled to a stop.
Impotent rage collapsed to guilt as reality set in.
God…dammit… She dropped to her knees, holding on to the front edge of her workstation with both hands…wishing she could crawl under. I'm…so fucking sorry… She rested her head on her forearms, let out a breath. …didn't mean…
"Ari…" Dave slowly emerged from the glow of the control booth behind her. "it's…not your fault…"
Ariel, more quietly, "Yeah… I pushed it. My call to go tight." She stood up, logged the segment, wiped her cheek.
A few co-workers moved toward her station. Others watched quietly, respectfully, from their own.
A hand lit softly on her shoulder… "What happened?" She had red hair. Sarah, maybe? Couldn't remember. Was usually better with names…
They all needed to see. What happened when shit went bad. A reminder about the kind of people they were watching. Ariel manually dialed the holo into a fast reverse. The mid-sized container ship slid backward through the sea. The churning white-green surface of the water fired raindrops at an angry sky.
After a moment, a container rose up on one side of the foaming wake, metal corner breaking the surface, holding there. It bobbled up, floated toward the back of the ship, rising in the water. Eventually leapt up into the crane, swung back to the stacks. She switched to thermal. Twenty people. Maybe more.
A voice within the small circle, "Jesus Christ. What is this? Where?"
"God, no…" whispered another. "They must have been so terrified…"
Ariel, resigned. "Too late. They're gone. Fucking things drop like rocks. They're slow-steaming. Mid-ocean. Closest ships are an hour away…"
Ariel spun the holo back to real time, forward motion. The ship's crew hooked up a second container. Her body tensed, hands shaking, voice came out a hoarse whisper, "You assholes have to come to shore sometime. Swear to fucking god there's gonna be some kind of payback waiting…"
The first girl with red hair picked up a nearby phone, gave Ariel a kind, sympathetic smile. "Silly rabbit… You've been up way too long. You know there's no such thing as 'too late'." She flipped through the directory, dialed. Waited. "Hi… I'm sorry to disturb you on your vacation, Ms. Martin. Sarah Burke on Foglight, 23rd. We really need some help over here. Yes. Right now. I'm sorry. It's an emergency. Go ahead, read me and probably Ari too? Thank you. …yeah…I know… Can you reach her?"
Max folded in near the front of the ops floor, made a beeline for Ariel.
Sophie woke her up a couple of minutes before with call, the link, and a quick replay of what they'd seen. Max only took enough time to throw on PJs, ignoring her obvious bed-head.
"Sorry. I fucked up, boss." Ariel said, hand on her head. "They made one of our drones. Thought the weather would mask us, but I got too close and they spooked. Dumped four containers over the side. People in three of them. I, uh…we don't know what was in the fourth. They're changing course, so not totally sure where they're headed now. My call to leave the containers in play for the follow…I should have been more careful, and…now they're dead…"
Max could see she was taking this to heart. She'd crossed paths with Ariel a couple of times over the past year - most recently on New Year's. Briefly, anyway. Head and heart in the right places. Sophie said the teams and floor staff all liked working with her… Good lead. Professional. Driven. Sometimes, bad shit just happened. Max gave her a quick dismissive head-shake. "Would you roll it all the way back, please?"
Ariel indexed to the decision point. "That's where we moved it closer."
"Okay. What's that timestamp?"
"13:34 remote. Like I said, I'm really sorry to drag you out of bed - I know you shouldn't have to deal with this in the middle of the night. But if you could just leave me a quick email or note or something before then to keep me from messing up and killing everyone, I'd owe you big time…"
"No. I think we're beyond that." Max said flatly, staring at the ship.
"I, uh…understand, and you have every right to let me go, but please…it's my fuckup - those people didn't deserve this…"
Huh? Oh…. "Sorry. Ariel… No. You rule. You all do. I know this is moonlighting. I only meant that we're past the point of a simple reset. These assholes saw a drone, and their first instinct was to panic-murder sixty helpless people? More? Yeah. No. Fuck these guys… They're done. Someone bring up a wide satellite view, center on their position?"
Max landed back in bed a half hour before. The room was dark, quiet. She felt an intense warmth radiating across the space between them. Chloe's new trick, at least when she wanted to steal Emo…she'd raise her body temperature a few degrees. The Monster was probably on the other side soaking up the heat. Max didn't want to wake either of them, but she had to go. Folded herself directly to the closet floor, got up and quietly closed the door from inside before moving the switch to the dimmest setting.
As she dressed, she called Sophie. Used the ring to get her attention, but disconnected the call once they linked. Max showed her everything from the last stub. Including memories from the perspectives of Ariel and others on the floor that Sophie had passed along last timeline. Sophie in turn linked back to Ariel and a few others, to return the fourth-hand visions of their original memories. A pale sort of deja-vu. Heads-up, anyway.
Max stopped by the ops floor first. Ariel, seated, mouthed 'sorry'. She was more emotionally removed this round. Hadn't happened here yet. Wouldn't now. Max, on the other hand, was pretty fucking far from removed. She carried her own feelings about what she'd seen, multiplied by her history, mixed with the unfiltered emotional imprints of others she'd picked up through the link before her jump back… She grabbed an earpiece. "Ariel - let the loading docks downstairs know they've got some fragile cargo inbound?"
"Will do. I'll have a few med teams meet you down there as well."
"Thanks. Someone keep an eye on the drones once I land? Watch for any jumpers? There's a part-two of this conversation we'll get to later…"
"On it." said Dave.
Ops gave way to the mixed grey of windy sea and storm-clouds.
She kept pace a little ahead of the ship below. She'd still have to make adjustments, but it would be easier if she started at the same speed.
A voice echoed through her earpiece, frequencies shifting, "Gap in the cargo stacks is clear, Max… Good a time as any."
"Roger, Roger." She released the bubble. Her body fell out from under her.
The familiar frisson of free-fall started in the pit of her stomach. Punched through the center of her lower back, racing out across her skin, crashing around her body, up her spine and down her limbs in flashing, tingling waves. Wind and rain pulled at her hair as the ship grew. Stick the landing, Max. Low power this time.
The horizon pulled in as the boat raced up to meet her. Ten seconds. Eleven…
After twenty seconds, colors flashed past. She had better control of the necessary spatial distortions now, used the last three feet to decelerate, stopped just above the deck. Dropped the last inch. Wet, but grippy. Sandpaper paint over cold steel. The ship pitched, pushing from below.
She'd memorized the container locations before leaving. They were last on, so nothing above. Scanned the stacks quickly to get her bearings. Folded up to one container, pulled it across with her to the loading docks beneath HQ. Cold rainwater splashed off it, ran along the ground toward a central drain a few marked spaces away. A few operators were already waiting for her. She turned away from the box, moved from the garage back to the ship mid-stride. Repeated the process with the remaining three they'd dumped in the prior timeline.
By the time she'd retrieved the fourth and parked it in an empty spot, medical teams were running out of the elevators. Returning to the first container, she shifted her frame, sheared the lock by hand, then re-synchronized to gently open the latching mechanism for the doors. A long metal creak, and she was hit by a wave of human stench. The portable toilets inside obviously failed with the rough seas. But there was something else. Worse.
Bottles of water rolled out across the floor of the garage.
Light from the open door faded mid-way back, but she could sense people huddled together at the far end. She walked in alone, quiet, a small shadow against the backlight. Stepping carefully over the bedrolls and boxes and cushions, she spoke in a soft voice, "Hello. I don't know if you can understand me. But we're here to help you. You're all safe. Nothing bad will happen. I promise." She continued in, hands open and out to her sides. Vision partially adjusted to the dark, she found a pair of eyes reflecting. Crouched down. "Hey there. Are you okay? We have doctors waiting outside if anyone is hurt. Showers, food, water. Anything you need."
She noted their thick plastic collars. Numbers hastily written in bold marker.
Anger colored outside her lines.
Not now. Not here.
The moment seemed to go on for moments. Finally, the pair of eyes cautiously rose up, shuffled forward. Max stood, held out her hand. "Come. We'll fix you up and get you home. Or wherever you want to go. You're free… All of you." She felt a thin shaking hand gripping hers. Cool to the touch. Smiled, turned, walked slowly to the door. Looking back again, she motioned to the others, said, "Come on. Everyone. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay now."
In ones and twos, they followed her out into the light.
Chloe saw herself sitting up in bed, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Emo wandered off for a snack as soon as Chloe woke up. When Max vanished.
She watched as Max briefed ops. Held the various theaters of view in her head while Max bounced between them. The raw data feeds from the drones. The cameras in the garage. Elevator. She powered up the medical wing and kitchen before the staff had the first victims headed up.
Chloe saw everything as it unfolded. Felt the same things everyone did. Frustration, heartbreak, barely contained anger. But she also focused in on Max. Alone, small, off to the side now. Micro-expressions only Chloe could see. Max couldn't hide the pain. She carried it with her whole body. And as horrific as all of this shit was, Chloe knew there was something more going on inside. Something else she couldn't quite read.
Worried, she pushed up out of bed to get dressed.
Max stayed with them until all four containers were open, and it was clear that the triage was going okay. She learned they'd been at sea for weeks, but who knew what their situation had been leading up to that point. Nearly sixty in all. Mostly women, a few men, with a handful of children. Boys and girls.
Apparently, two young children died shortly after their container was loaded onto the ship. No one inside knew who they used to be. But once underway, their deaths were discovered. A few of the women wrapped their fragile bodies in layers of borrowed clothing; some small measure of isolation and respect. Three refused to leave the container or accept medical help until the children's bodies were brought out. Two operators, both former special forces, respectfully carried the tiny bundles to waiting gurneys. Their expressions were mirrors of Max's turbulent emotions.
Among the others, a few were hypothermic; all were undernourished. Max didn't know what was intended for them at their destination, but in her experience, the likely horrors only differed by degree.
The fourth container was packed full of counterfeit designer bags, each wrapped in plastic, bundled together in stacks of plastic bins. It was insult on top of injury that the crew treated all four containers as equal in their jettison.
She took a deep ragged breath.
Exhaled.
It was all too real.
Too goddamn familiar.
There was no 'outside the lines' anymore.
No more holding this back.
Her fists clenched. Squeezing inward.
She was alone in her head.
Timelines blending across her mind.
Angry tears pushed for release.
For the ones here now.
And for all the ones she'd left behind, scattered across timelines.
Twenty years to find her
another sixty to get her out before they could…
I fucking can't…
Max couldn't look away. Her eyes burned.
Goddamn fucking collars.
The wave pushed in from behind. Hard this time.
Not a momentary swell of melancholy.
This was a rising surge.
The cold leading edge of a terrible storm.
One she'd repressed for too long.
Not here.
She folded to the rooftop. Silent. Cold.
Everything in her head contrasted with the festive city lights beyond the edge.
She wanted to tear them apart.
…fucking monsters.
Her senses blurred with old memories too powerfully connected to ignore.
The helplessness she'd felt.
The fear and empty doubt she'd so recently denied herself.
Her burdens to carry.
So many…
Overlapping now.
Building into rogue waves.
Not here. Not where they can see…
Eyes to the heavens, she rocketed straight up. Trailing light. Captured a bubble of air seconds before breaking through the upper atmosphere. Kept going. Accelerating. The world fell far behind. She focused outward, looking for someplace off to the side. Out of the way. A place without witnesses. Without stars. Pulled herself halfway across the cosmos, left the light. Found herself in a dark void. A place so isolated, so distant from matter, she couldn't make out any points of light with her naked eyes.
A center of repulsive expansion; buzzing with virtual energy.
But to her, it was the perfect bubble of nothing.
Far enough.
Only then did she let it come.
Stopped fighting the memories.
Her sadness, fury.
Ghosts…
There was nothing to push away this time. Nowhere else to go.
Nothing bright or shiny in this fucking moment.
She wanted to feel this. Had to.
Let it build in her.
Only way to get it out.
Let it go.
Every loop had been permanent for her.
She felt everything. Deeply.
Remembered everything.
Tried to forget. Look away.
But some memories stood out, bright like knives.
Chloe.
The poor souls in those containers.
So many countless others.
She felt the vast black clouds sublimate from nothing, coalesce around her.
Alone, she screamed at the darkness…
Shaking.
Let it overtake her.
Let it all flood back in.
Her body like a heavy spring under tension…
Heart scarred, bleeding.
Let go.
Remember…
Chloe…
At the limits of her rewind.
Nosebleeds back.
Head splitting.
Helpless as they were separated.
Carried forward.
Provinces where Colorado once stood.
She was just…gone.
Decades apart from each other, again and again.
Forcing Chloe to live through it too many times, looking for a way.
Never really knowing how it would end…
Finally tracking her down, hundreds of miles away. Reaching her there for the first time, only twenty years too late. They said she was theirs. Had her in a motherfucking collar. Property. That's what they called her. Won her fair and square, they said. She wasn't the only one. Not the first 'owners', either. There was a line going back to her abduction by the militias that first goddamn piece of shit day…
Chloe. Older. Shared. Chained, strung out, powerless. Blank. Her mind somewhere else. If at all. Her Chloe…vacant. Max's heart couldn't possibly break into smaller pieces. She'd never known a hate like this; so strong it almost had a physical presence. But she was patient. Boiling. Extracted some of their names. Followed the trail of abusers back. Killed them all. Twice at least. Some three times, adding up all the different timelines.
It was still too late. Didn't ever change that. Once she saw Chloe, and understood that Chloe wasn't seeing her, Max knew the past was the only way to save her. Only way forward was back. But…how? Too much time between…
While monster hunting through the ruins of a lost civilization, she searched for a path. Paths. More years. Each time, getting a little closer. Two steps forward, two steps back. In a state of near-constant desperation and despair, but never fully giving up… Couldn't ever give up. Not on her. Never.
Her journey took her back to where it began. She finally found an intake photo buried in a cabinet in the ruins of the train station. Old processing center. It was hers.
Ecstatic, hopeful, she jumped through without thinking, back another twenty-five years, nearly to the beginning this time. Then a long rewind back to the underground lines where she'd fallen asleep. After they'd become separated. Couldn't go back any further. Her face bloody, it put her within a day of the market. But on the wrong side of time. She still had to work it the rest of the way. But she knew some of the names. So close. And yet…
Trapped. Under tension, pulled back to the emptiness of her future. Over and fucking over. She was only ever a tourist in the past. It took years of trial and error and re-dos, through all the pain and frustration and heartbreak from there - to be so close to the beginning, to maybe finding her early, getting her all the way out. More years of obsessive agony to tear through the membrane of the moment. To escape beyond the borders of memory. Only guardrails, training wheels - those artificial safety blocks finally wore through, fell away. After so much pushing, bleeding, raging. All the while, screaming at the cruelty of the universe and her own limits. So fucking close. Years to learn how to jump back through a photo and stay. Only to realize she didn't have the photo with her at the moment it was taken. They did. Behind the line. Behind the bars. Couldn't access it. Missed opportunities, forced to go forward again, chasing her, missing jump points… Killing them again. Too late again. Finding the same photo again so many years later.
Four major loops. Eighty years.
That's what it took to find and rescue Chloe, while she was still herself. Before it could begin at all.
The last year, maybe more, after the final big jump, Max refused to go forward. Found a way to get behind the scenes. Learned the path of the photo they'd taken of her. That first flash at every loop. Found it. From then on, she was forever in that day.
She became an expert navigator. Flash. Go through processing. Get the ID. Kill the guard - he'd wake up by noon otherwise - but no blood, take his uniform, dress in the closet in darkness, take the keys, go to the machine, grab the picture as it comes out. Keep it safe. That, above all else. It was her only way back. If she lost it, she wouldn't ever find it again in the future. It was something she'd changed now. She was running on a razor's edge.
Perma-death rewinds, general rewinds were enough though. As long as she didn't ever lose consciousness, she'd be good. Better to take a bullet than a fist. Better to 'die' with the rewind than lose consciousness in a fight. After the first months, it became routine. Pushing farther each pass. She knew everyone. Where they were. Where they'd be. What questions they'd ask, what the right answers were. Where the dangers were. Which obstacles she could bypass with stealth, at what points she had to commit to overwhelming violence. She made herself an expert at all of them, in service to one very specific rescue.
Her memory and persistence were her only weapons. Well…and the knives. Guns. She infiltrated them, played every possible branch. Memorized the timing of the ones that took her closer. Integrated them into her day-long ballet. Get to the end, loop. Fail - loop. Every move, every hiding spot, every code, key, shadow, word…every step back to her. Every life taken - some thousands of times. Every shot, fired or avoided. The path of every bullet. Hers and theirs. Every reload. Every click into an empty chamber. But she did it. Not one missed shot. That final, beautiful, terrible performance. Groundhog Day met John Wick in a choreography of life-ending precision. Hundreds of their militia left dead.
Busted her out though. Killed everyone she knew would come after them, before finally freeing Chloe. She'd saved her from any memory of what she'd been forced to endure so many times...
Only her though.
Shiny at the end. For Chloe. It had only been a little more than a day. Another scary blip, but no more. Max was beyond grateful to have found a way. After so much effort, so many tears, endless loops, to finally have her all the way back. Her Chloe. Brilliant crazy stupid love of her life. Her only thought was to get them as far away as she could, as fast as they could move. Chloe first. Always. But…like Arcadia, she never quite managed to let go of the guilt. For what she'd become. What she'd had to do. For everything that happened to Chloe along the way. For all the others she'd knowingly run away from. Left behind. So many. Left to their fates. Left to Chloe's fate. Worse.
Wasn't the first or last time for that either.
But she had no choice. She had to choose. It was never really a choice. Chloe. Always.
The choice came easy, but it wasn't ever. Not after. Not really.
Her burdens…
For all her powers, Max had never felt so helpless as when they were safely away.
In hindsight, she was sure some of that bled over. An unfortunate fragment. Only, without the two centuries beyond that might have tempered her reactions. Had to be. That guilt. The fury. Made it through. After her interrupted, failed jump. After the first butterfly. Screams embedded themselves deep into her young subconscious. The gambling den in Seattle. How easy it had been to kill those men. Seeing the women chained in the booths. Chloe right there. An obvious trigger. She ripped a man in half for standing between them. Literally in half. Could have undone it. But she chose not to. Killed them all. And with Roland. How quickly, without thought, she'd given in. Defeated, collapsed inward in the first moments of Chloe's torture. Knowing what it could mean for millions of people. Anything to stop it. And still, he made them both endure the rest… And then, after the storm, after her rebirth, after coming back to herself…how easy it had been to kill him. Again and again. …and again…
Max turned in her bubble, felt the wobble of thick tears pooling across the surface of her eyes…
Felt the gasses and dust draw closer, thicker, spinning…
She told Sophie she'd let go of her time in the mid 22nd… Moved on. Partly true. Healed some. Buried the rest. For long periods anyway. But something like that doesn't ever really leave. At the very least, it shaped her going forward. Backward. She was pretty sure that's where she'd always be. It was a time in her life. She was aware of it, at least. Just had to work her way past it again. Work her way past now.
It had been a while since she'd let these thoughts and feelings landslide back in.
Sadness and regret for all she couldn't do, mixed with critical self-analysis of all the things she'd done… had to do.
That was a dark place. Dark times.
She was a very different person then. Harder. Had to be.
But so much weaker for all that.
Haunted. Desperate.
So many compromises. Sacrifices. Little pieces of her soul. Some not so small.
Eighty-years of shitty days. All for her.
She'd do it all over, of course.
Knowing full well she didn't ever want to be that person again… But, for Chloe… If the alternative was losing her…
And after everything…it was Chloe who saved her. Brought her back to them. Brought Max back to herself. Without even knowing it. Chloe never knew. Wouldn't ever know, if Max had her way.
She learned a few tricks in those twisted loops of Max-time. All but a day erased at the end. But they served as her motivation for the next two centuries of intensive training. Convinced her they had to try to do something more to help. Change things. Heal things. The world was…broken. What they'd done to Chloe wasn't the worst she'd seen. Not even close. Another in that long line of 'never again'. She always let Chloe push her. After. Let her think she was the one making Max practice. Chloe wasn't wrong. Just wasn't right in the way she thought.
Max knew she was truly lost without her. Chloe. Her love. Her heart. Her strength and her kryptonite… well, used to be the last. Even Chloe wasn't the same later in that timeline. Certainly not now. She could take care of herself. Almost didn't matter. They were always stronger together, whenever they were. Even kryptonite had a half-life…
Some of that had bled through too, she realized.
The voice of her better angel.
The defining branch point of her younger self here.
Choosing office supplies over the expedience of mass murder…
Not all lessons were lost.
Long way back though.
The clouds fell inward to gravity.
Max wiped her eyes, droplets floating off, rippling, circling around. The burning rage had subsided to a dull sort of anger, layered over a deep, enduring pain. Perspective crept back as she relived the closure of that terrible journey. Remembered the lessons. Remembered where she was. When she was.
None of those events will ever come to pass. Not now. Not in this timeline.
We've changed too many things. And we're only at the very beginning.
Even if something of that broken world had been here all along, she was a very different person now too. Softer. Even more so after reconnecting with her younger self in 2013. Happy childhood memories were more fresh in a lot of ways. More recent. She could afford to be softer. Brighter. Optimistic. She was vastly more capable this time around. Laughably so. With more years and perspective. Balance. Better at rebalancing anyway. More options. Benefits of all the training and… and whatever the hell else was happening with all that…
…I mean, something in me is changing. Accelerating. Something. I'm floating between…galaxies…in the vast emptiness between filaments and walls of superclusters…billions of light years from home…where did this come from?
Her fists unclenched. She opened and closed her hands a few times.
Relaxed them. Felt some of the tension in her release.
If she was ever to somehow find herself back there in that other branch, in that same desperate situation, but as the person she was now…none of the other victims would be left behind. That was for sure. Not. One.
She pictured the docks. The containers.
Not victims. People.
Their dark journey came to an end.
A better one.
They have a new chance.
This will be a scary time in their lives, but they can still have happy endings…
Because a team of people, our team, cared enough to watch over the lost.
God, why was this ever a volunteer side-project instead of a priority op?
How the fuck did we let that happen?
She exhaled as more of the tension flowed out of her shoulders.
No more compromises.
No more sacrifices.
No more choosing.
Everyone makes it home from now on.
Fucking everyone.
Almost. Rule #3 still holds.
Monsters don't get to stay.
But…they have to go somewhere…
Margaret's right…we need a Monster Island…
She took a breath.
Found herself drifting slowly, vaguely, in the direction of home.
Outward, beyond the edge of the collapsing cloud, invisible in the darkness.
Was she still fantasizing about another shot at Alt-Colorado?
Or Arcadia Bay?
Or any of the other fractured places they'd been?
Any of the lost people they'd passed by, regrettably or unknowing across the centuries?
Have I ever stopped?
Or was it something more?
Still bottled up… unspoken.
Earth?
All of the other lost worlds out there?
And what that might mean…
Shadows…
Is it all too much?
Her anger completed its descent through the melancholy, finally flattening out into that familiar ground-state of quiet, absolute resolve.
She floated in silence. Thoughtful now.
Unconsciously, she reached across, held the butterflies on her arm.
Doesn't matter.
Still applies.
If you can, if there's any way at all, you have to…
Chloe said once I can't be responsible for those I couldn't save.
That's not really true anymore.
Not if I really can save everyone…
And if I can, I have that responsibility…
And yeah, Sophie…there are more ways to save people.
Lending hope; helping them to find their best selves.
Helping them to save each other…save themselves…
It's a nice notion.
True in the long game, at macro level.
But there are times, situations where that breaks down.
People at the mercy of others, at the mercy of fate, who can't possibly help themselves.
…with no one coming to save them.
A more direct intervention is the only hope they have…
But there's so goddamn many…
I can't be everywhere at once…
You don't have to be.
Chloe, John, Hector, Ty…
Thousands more inside.
Talents, friends we've made around the world along the way, people we've helped…
Weird internet fringe, I guess?
They're all on your side too…
You're not alone, Max.
Don't believe that.
You're just not.
You don't have to carry this all by yourself.
And it's okay…these people, they'll be okay now…
You saved them.
We all saved them…
Most of them. She remembered.
Dropped her eyes.
Yeah, she could effortlessly tear the perpetrators apart.
Which is why I can't...
Hope, light, it has a different source.
She floated on.
Returned to herself.
Worry, guilt, soul hurt finally fading to background again…
One thing she knew. They'd all seen enough darkness to last forever. She had, for sure. Knew that's why she embraced and indulged her younger self as often and as deeply as she could. Embraced silliness and nonsense and lightness wherever possible. Loved that in Chloe too. Shiny mattered. Some things were better left far behind. …some parts of herself too. She'd never again be innocent. But she could choose to be better… Every day. Making up for everything she'd done. And everything she hadn't. And making right a whole world full of never again.
Maybe more than one…
She wiped away the last of her tears, re-centered herself. Calm. In focus.
For now. Some things you don't fix. Only manage…
But she was deeply thankful for every chance, every moment, every opportunity.
And most of all, for Chloe.
Chloe…
Not just Chloe…
She turned, headed home.
I have to try…
Behind her, the rotating clouds of gifted matter finally collapsed.
Ignited.