Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 25
Theo and I sit together like the lovers we’re supposed to be. The lovers we are, in this dimension. Most of the people around us wear dark, practical clothing like the cheap dress I’ve got on, though several men are in uniform like Theo. I take another look at him in his crisp, dark green uniform, complete with the folded cap on his head, and can’t resist a smile.
He smiles back. “What’s so funny?”
“Your uniform. It’s not exactly a Lumineers T-shirt and a fedora, is it?”
“You mock my fashion sense.” Theo puts one hand over his chest, pretending to have been shot through the heart. “But I for one happen to know I am stylin’. Well, usually. Not today.”
As innocently as I can, I say, “Aren’t most of the hipster guys growing beards now?”
Theo makes a face. “Not me. I mean, I could maybe have a goatee or something sometime. But the beards you see right now? Halfway to Amish.”
I laugh out loud. Several other passengers turn to look at us, but instead of looking annoyed, most of them smile. Maybe people have a soft spot for wartime romance.
If Theo notices, he shows no sign. “Listen, I meant to wait until we got to San Francisco, but it looks like that’s going to take longer than I thought.”
No timetables were given at the train station. Apparently you’re supposed to count yourself lucky if you even reach your destination. “Wait for what?”
“To go over the files I pulled.” From his rucksack Theo tugs a manila folder, which is thick with more dot-matrix printer paper.
“I thought you said you couldn’t get through the security,” I say, leaning closer.
Theo replies, “I couldn’t get through to the classified stuff, no. But more general information? Not a problem.”
As soon as he opens the folder, my eyes find the name on the top sheet: LIEUTENANT PAUL MARKOV.
“So here we have Paul’s assignment, his service record—which is golden, by the way—and even his address in San Francisco.” Theo frowned down at the paper. “Military Housing, it says. I get the impression that’s somewhere between a barracks and an apartment.”
“Do we have his phone number there?”
“Yeah. At his office on base too. So you’ll be able to reach him one way or another.” Then Theo sucks in a breath, and his hand tightens around the folder until the cover crumples. “Dammit.”
“What?”
He points at a name on another page, one he just pulled out. It’s in small print, in one entry like all the others, but as soon as I see it the world turns cold.
Lieutenant Colonel Wyatt Conley.
“What is he doing here?” I say, but the answer comes to me immediately. He’s doing the same thing he always does: inventing the latest technology and marketing it to whoever will pay the most to get it. In this world, that’s the military.
Once, in the Londonverse, I heard Conley give a speech about how war evolved over the centuries. He said then that the next weapons and strategies would go beyond anything history had ever seen.
As strange as this war is to me, I don’t get the sense that it’s so incredibly different from the ways wars have been fought before. Conley doesn’t have the technology he needs here to do what he wants to do.
Then it hits me. “He’s connected to the Firebird project, isn’t he? But—he can’t be. If so, he wouldn’t need me. He could sabotage the Firebirds himself.”
“He’s requested transfer to the project multiple times. Always been turned down.” Theo keeps scanning the files. “Conley and Paul have worked together on some other projects, though. Now he’s trying to get Paul transferred over to his department, but no success so far.”
“Do you think that’s this dimension’s Conley trying to get control over Paul? Or our Conley trying to screw things up and failing?”
“My guess? Both. But our Conley gave up, which is why we got this all-expenses-paid vacation in paradise.” Theo makes a gesture like Look at these amazing prizes, and finally I can smile again.
At this point I notice an older man looking toward us with a puzzled frown. I whisper, “Remember, watch our volume control as long as we’re talking about dimensions.”
Theo swears under his breath. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is here.”
Nobody’s music is wafting over from earbuds. Relatively few people seem to chat with each other. There’s no ambient noise of cars or city life from the world outside. Just the thrumming of the tracks beneath the train, the occasional crinkle of folded newspaper, and Theo and me.
More quietly, he continues, “So what’s our plan here?”
“We get to Paul, and I find out what I can.” Already I’m counting the minutes until I can be alone with him again. “I could suggest dropping by the lab for a tour, and—I guess that’s a place to start.”
Theo frowns. “Not much of a plan there.”
“It could work,” I retort. Theo’s already loaded the virus onto this dimension’s version of a hard drive. All I’d have to do would be plug it into the right port—and once I was in their lab, I think I could figure out what that is.
“It could,” he concedes, “but we can’t afford to count on that. The project is classified. You might not be allowed in regardless of who your parents are.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Theo’s right. “What else should I do?”
“For starters, try to swipe his keys. His wallet too, if you can get it, or even just take a look inside. Since you’re Sophia and Henry’s kid, you can probably get him talking about the Firebirds without too much trouble. Find out how to get access to the computer system, and with this handy virus, we can take it from there. We’ll have screwed this whole world over before you know it.”
Our conversation has become so tactical. So—cold. “You sound happy about it,” I snap. “Could you cut it out?”
“Hey,” he says, more softly. “I know it’s hard doing this to your parents. I love them too, you know. Just like you and I both love Paul. That’s why we’re here. If we have to choose between a version in another dimension and our version—there’s only one choice we can make. Right?”
“You think they’re totally different,” I say, “but they’re not. Mom is my mom, everywhere. Paul is Paul, everywhere.”
“And I’m the homicidal psycho from Triad everywhere?”
That stings. “No. I didn’t mean—they’re not identical. But they’re not as separate as you’re pretending they are.”
“If the pretense helps us get the job done, then I’m going to keep on pretending my heart out. Because that cure for Nightthief exposure—I need it, and soon. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you.” I mean it, but saying the words still hurts.
“Don’t listen to me, okay? Sometimes I snark about stuff because—you know. It’s easier.” Theo clearly sees that I’m still affected, but he doesn’t press further. “Okay. You go meet Paul. You learn everything you can. You bring me keys or a pass to his lab. I can take it from there.”
“You?”
He smiles back. “What’s so funny?”
“Your uniform. It’s not exactly a Lumineers T-shirt and a fedora, is it?”
“You mock my fashion sense.” Theo puts one hand over his chest, pretending to have been shot through the heart. “But I for one happen to know I am stylin’. Well, usually. Not today.”
As innocently as I can, I say, “Aren’t most of the hipster guys growing beards now?”
Theo makes a face. “Not me. I mean, I could maybe have a goatee or something sometime. But the beards you see right now? Halfway to Amish.”
I laugh out loud. Several other passengers turn to look at us, but instead of looking annoyed, most of them smile. Maybe people have a soft spot for wartime romance.
If Theo notices, he shows no sign. “Listen, I meant to wait until we got to San Francisco, but it looks like that’s going to take longer than I thought.”
No timetables were given at the train station. Apparently you’re supposed to count yourself lucky if you even reach your destination. “Wait for what?”
“To go over the files I pulled.” From his rucksack Theo tugs a manila folder, which is thick with more dot-matrix printer paper.
“I thought you said you couldn’t get through the security,” I say, leaning closer.
Theo replies, “I couldn’t get through to the classified stuff, no. But more general information? Not a problem.”
As soon as he opens the folder, my eyes find the name on the top sheet: LIEUTENANT PAUL MARKOV.
“So here we have Paul’s assignment, his service record—which is golden, by the way—and even his address in San Francisco.” Theo frowned down at the paper. “Military Housing, it says. I get the impression that’s somewhere between a barracks and an apartment.”
“Do we have his phone number there?”
“Yeah. At his office on base too. So you’ll be able to reach him one way or another.” Then Theo sucks in a breath, and his hand tightens around the folder until the cover crumples. “Dammit.”
“What?”
He points at a name on another page, one he just pulled out. It’s in small print, in one entry like all the others, but as soon as I see it the world turns cold.
Lieutenant Colonel Wyatt Conley.
“What is he doing here?” I say, but the answer comes to me immediately. He’s doing the same thing he always does: inventing the latest technology and marketing it to whoever will pay the most to get it. In this world, that’s the military.
Once, in the Londonverse, I heard Conley give a speech about how war evolved over the centuries. He said then that the next weapons and strategies would go beyond anything history had ever seen.
As strange as this war is to me, I don’t get the sense that it’s so incredibly different from the ways wars have been fought before. Conley doesn’t have the technology he needs here to do what he wants to do.
Then it hits me. “He’s connected to the Firebird project, isn’t he? But—he can’t be. If so, he wouldn’t need me. He could sabotage the Firebirds himself.”
“He’s requested transfer to the project multiple times. Always been turned down.” Theo keeps scanning the files. “Conley and Paul have worked together on some other projects, though. Now he’s trying to get Paul transferred over to his department, but no success so far.”
“Do you think that’s this dimension’s Conley trying to get control over Paul? Or our Conley trying to screw things up and failing?”
“My guess? Both. But our Conley gave up, which is why we got this all-expenses-paid vacation in paradise.” Theo makes a gesture like Look at these amazing prizes, and finally I can smile again.
At this point I notice an older man looking toward us with a puzzled frown. I whisper, “Remember, watch our volume control as long as we’re talking about dimensions.”
Theo swears under his breath. “I keep forgetting how quiet it is here.”
Nobody’s music is wafting over from earbuds. Relatively few people seem to chat with each other. There’s no ambient noise of cars or city life from the world outside. Just the thrumming of the tracks beneath the train, the occasional crinkle of folded newspaper, and Theo and me.
More quietly, he continues, “So what’s our plan here?”
“We get to Paul, and I find out what I can.” Already I’m counting the minutes until I can be alone with him again. “I could suggest dropping by the lab for a tour, and—I guess that’s a place to start.”
Theo frowns. “Not much of a plan there.”
“It could work,” I retort. Theo’s already loaded the virus onto this dimension’s version of a hard drive. All I’d have to do would be plug it into the right port—and once I was in their lab, I think I could figure out what that is.
“It could,” he concedes, “but we can’t afford to count on that. The project is classified. You might not be allowed in regardless of who your parents are.”
As much as I hate to admit it, Theo’s right. “What else should I do?”
“For starters, try to swipe his keys. His wallet too, if you can get it, or even just take a look inside. Since you’re Sophia and Henry’s kid, you can probably get him talking about the Firebirds without too much trouble. Find out how to get access to the computer system, and with this handy virus, we can take it from there. We’ll have screwed this whole world over before you know it.”
Our conversation has become so tactical. So—cold. “You sound happy about it,” I snap. “Could you cut it out?”
“Hey,” he says, more softly. “I know it’s hard doing this to your parents. I love them too, you know. Just like you and I both love Paul. That’s why we’re here. If we have to choose between a version in another dimension and our version—there’s only one choice we can make. Right?”
“You think they’re totally different,” I say, “but they’re not. Mom is my mom, everywhere. Paul is Paul, everywhere.”
“And I’m the homicidal psycho from Triad everywhere?”
That stings. “No. I didn’t mean—they’re not identical. But they’re not as separate as you’re pretending they are.”
“If the pretense helps us get the job done, then I’m going to keep on pretending my heart out. Because that cure for Nightthief exposure—I need it, and soon. Are you with me?”
“I’m with you.” I mean it, but saying the words still hurts.
“Don’t listen to me, okay? Sometimes I snark about stuff because—you know. It’s easier.” Theo clearly sees that I’m still affected, but he doesn’t press further. “Okay. You go meet Paul. You learn everything you can. You bring me keys or a pass to his lab. I can take it from there.”
“You?”
