Ten Thousand Skies Above You
Page 33
“My guess is yes.” Then I think about that for a moment, pulling my rumpled robe more closely around me. “Actually, no. Not yet. They aren’t as close here. Besides, Paul would want to think through everything, examine the Firebird, all on his own, before he said anything. But he will tell them.”
“And soon. It won’t take Paul long to figure that thing out, especially not if they were on the verge of the breakthrough here already.” Theo sighs. “Never thought I’d be pissed off that my research partner is so freakin’ brilliant, but here we are. Anyway. Second question is, will your parents believe him?”
“Maybe? At first, they’d have to wonder. But as soon as he’s able to show them the Firebird itself—or the schematics—Mom and Dad will realize what it is. Then they’ll know he’s telling the truth.”
“Then we need to work fast.”
We have two goals we must accomplish, and they work against each other. I need Paul to trust me enough to hand the Firebird over again, and yet I also need to betray him and destroy his work. There’s no way to make both of those happen—
—or is there?
“Hang on,” I say to Theo as I jump from the bed and slide my feet into a pair of shoes.
While I straighten my robe, Theo says, “Where are you going?”
“To the phone!”
Happily, nobody’s waiting to use the one telephone on the floor, so it’s all mine. After the seemingly endless process of using a rotary dial, I get the military base. “Extension, please,” says the bored-sounding operator.
“No extension. I want to leave an urgent message for Lieutenant Paul Markov. It should say, Meet me at nine a.m., at Fisherman’s Wharf.” Oh God, I hope they still have that in this dimension’s San Francisco.
Apparently so, because the operator says, “Yes, ma’am. Who is the message from?”
“Marguerite Caine. The daughter of the Doctors Caine.”
This mention gets the operator’s attention, just like it was supposed to. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll get this to him right away.”
“Thanks,” I say. As soon as I hang up, I run toward the hotel room to shower and dress in a hurry. We’ll have to rush to get to Fisherman’s Wharf on time.
On our way there, Theo and I could pass for any other couple in this world. He wears his military uniform, complete with green cloth hat on his head. My navy-blue dress isn’t nearly as slinky as last night’s outfit, but honestly that’s a relief. The red one should really be kept in a glass box with a little hammer and a sign that says DO NOT WEAR EXCEPT IN EMERGENCY.
When we get to Fisherman’s Wharf, I’m astonished to see that it looks like—well, a wharf. Used by fishermen. Instead of the familiar touristy extravaganza of restaurant signs and funky sculptures and hop-on/hop-off buses, I see boats and a fish market. Not all the boats are fishing trawlers, though; several look more like coast guard vessels, complete with mounted guns. A few places along the wharf offer food, but rather than overpriced burgers, they sell the kind of stuff that comes in brown paper bags so people can grab them and eat as they go.
“I always thought I hated our version of Fisherman’s Wharf,” Theo says. “Now I kind of miss it.”
“Yeah, me too.” In the distance I can hear the bark of a sea lion; at least they’re still here, sunning themselves. Not everything changes.
Glancing at the nearest food stall, Theo asks, “Think we’ve got time to look for doughnuts?”
“How can you think of doughnuts at a time like this?” Honestly, though, I’m hungry too. Our hotel didn’t have room service, and probably hasn’t for decades.
“How can you not? You want us to do some serious strategizing today? We’re gonna need fuel. Preferably chocolate-glazed fuel.”
I give him a warm smile—which fades in an instant as I look to the left.
Paul stands there, hands in his pockets, waiting.
Theo sees him only a moment later. He curses under his breath, and Paul raises an eyebrow.
“So,” Paul says. “You two made up.” Obviously he’s unsure how much he can say in front of Theo.
Understanding this, Theo slips his finger under the collar of his shirt to pull up a short length of gold chain. “Actually, I rode with her.”
“The two of you came here together.” Paul’s tone turns bitter. “How does this fit in with your so-called love for me, Marguerite?”
“Hey. Shut it, pal.” Theo steps forward. “I’m not with her—not in our dimension, anyway. I’m a friend of hers, and by the way, a friend of yours. I came here to help her out. To rescue you. Well, also myself, but definitely you too.”
Paul, clearly taken aback by Theo’s total understanding of the situation, snaps, “Stop talking about him as if he’s me. He isn’t. We’re two different people.”
“Okay, fine, sure,” I say. It’s not worth arguing about at this point. We need to get on the same page. “I’m glad you came.”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then Paul says, “I haven’t slept.”
Theo makes a scoffing sound, like Why should we care? He’s too defensive. But I can tell Paul’s telling the absolute truth. Now that I’ve recovered from the first shock of seeing him, I can see the stubble on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. Quietly I ask, “Why not?”
“I stayed up all night with this.” Paul pulls the stolen Firebird from his pocket. My first instinct is to lunge for it, but I remain still, except for holding out one hand to keep Theo back. Paul continues, “I ran the data over and over. I’ve learned a lot, but I have a lot further to go. In other words—if you want it back, the answer is still no.”
“Listen to me.” I step closer to Paul. “Remember what I said last night? This man, Wyatt Conley, intends to sabotage your work in this dimension. If we fail, he’s just going to send someone else. Lots of someone elses. Conley’s not a man who gives up until he gets what he wants.”
Paul retorts, “So I should surrender to you now and save myself the trouble?”
Theo’s eyes narrow. Obviously he’d like to rip into Paul. But I told him to let me take the lead on this, and he lives up to his promise, saying nothing.
“Here’s the bargain I’m offering you,” I tell Paul. “In our dimension, Theo works on the Firebird project too. He helped build this. If you agree, Theo will sit down with you and explain everything about how this works. He’ll go over your own designs, critique them, whatever it takes to get you guys ready to make a Firebird of your own.”
“You’re a physicist?” Paul says to Theo. The amount of surprise in his voice isn’t insulting—but it comes close.
“Hey, I might have been tracked into telemetry systems this time around, but in my dimension? I taught you everything you know.” Theo grins. “Well. Almost everything. I have to keep a few things to myself. Maintain my advantage.”
I cut in. “He can get you there, Paul. If you let Theo show you, you can crack the secrets of the Firebird within the day.”
He doesn’t even know what to say to an offer that good. “Then I’m supposed to give this back to you. And—and you’d take back the splinter of your Paul’s consciousness. Is that all?”
“And soon. It won’t take Paul long to figure that thing out, especially not if they were on the verge of the breakthrough here already.” Theo sighs. “Never thought I’d be pissed off that my research partner is so freakin’ brilliant, but here we are. Anyway. Second question is, will your parents believe him?”
“Maybe? At first, they’d have to wonder. But as soon as he’s able to show them the Firebird itself—or the schematics—Mom and Dad will realize what it is. Then they’ll know he’s telling the truth.”
“Then we need to work fast.”
We have two goals we must accomplish, and they work against each other. I need Paul to trust me enough to hand the Firebird over again, and yet I also need to betray him and destroy his work. There’s no way to make both of those happen—
—or is there?
“Hang on,” I say to Theo as I jump from the bed and slide my feet into a pair of shoes.
While I straighten my robe, Theo says, “Where are you going?”
“To the phone!”
Happily, nobody’s waiting to use the one telephone on the floor, so it’s all mine. After the seemingly endless process of using a rotary dial, I get the military base. “Extension, please,” says the bored-sounding operator.
“No extension. I want to leave an urgent message for Lieutenant Paul Markov. It should say, Meet me at nine a.m., at Fisherman’s Wharf.” Oh God, I hope they still have that in this dimension’s San Francisco.
Apparently so, because the operator says, “Yes, ma’am. Who is the message from?”
“Marguerite Caine. The daughter of the Doctors Caine.”
This mention gets the operator’s attention, just like it was supposed to. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll get this to him right away.”
“Thanks,” I say. As soon as I hang up, I run toward the hotel room to shower and dress in a hurry. We’ll have to rush to get to Fisherman’s Wharf on time.
On our way there, Theo and I could pass for any other couple in this world. He wears his military uniform, complete with green cloth hat on his head. My navy-blue dress isn’t nearly as slinky as last night’s outfit, but honestly that’s a relief. The red one should really be kept in a glass box with a little hammer and a sign that says DO NOT WEAR EXCEPT IN EMERGENCY.
When we get to Fisherman’s Wharf, I’m astonished to see that it looks like—well, a wharf. Used by fishermen. Instead of the familiar touristy extravaganza of restaurant signs and funky sculptures and hop-on/hop-off buses, I see boats and a fish market. Not all the boats are fishing trawlers, though; several look more like coast guard vessels, complete with mounted guns. A few places along the wharf offer food, but rather than overpriced burgers, they sell the kind of stuff that comes in brown paper bags so people can grab them and eat as they go.
“I always thought I hated our version of Fisherman’s Wharf,” Theo says. “Now I kind of miss it.”
“Yeah, me too.” In the distance I can hear the bark of a sea lion; at least they’re still here, sunning themselves. Not everything changes.
Glancing at the nearest food stall, Theo asks, “Think we’ve got time to look for doughnuts?”
“How can you think of doughnuts at a time like this?” Honestly, though, I’m hungry too. Our hotel didn’t have room service, and probably hasn’t for decades.
“How can you not? You want us to do some serious strategizing today? We’re gonna need fuel. Preferably chocolate-glazed fuel.”
I give him a warm smile—which fades in an instant as I look to the left.
Paul stands there, hands in his pockets, waiting.
Theo sees him only a moment later. He curses under his breath, and Paul raises an eyebrow.
“So,” Paul says. “You two made up.” Obviously he’s unsure how much he can say in front of Theo.
Understanding this, Theo slips his finger under the collar of his shirt to pull up a short length of gold chain. “Actually, I rode with her.”
“The two of you came here together.” Paul’s tone turns bitter. “How does this fit in with your so-called love for me, Marguerite?”
“Hey. Shut it, pal.” Theo steps forward. “I’m not with her—not in our dimension, anyway. I’m a friend of hers, and by the way, a friend of yours. I came here to help her out. To rescue you. Well, also myself, but definitely you too.”
Paul, clearly taken aback by Theo’s total understanding of the situation, snaps, “Stop talking about him as if he’s me. He isn’t. We’re two different people.”
“Okay, fine, sure,” I say. It’s not worth arguing about at this point. We need to get on the same page. “I’m glad you came.”
He doesn’t answer at first. Then Paul says, “I haven’t slept.”
Theo makes a scoffing sound, like Why should we care? He’s too defensive. But I can tell Paul’s telling the absolute truth. Now that I’ve recovered from the first shock of seeing him, I can see the stubble on his face, the dark shadows under his eyes. Quietly I ask, “Why not?”
“I stayed up all night with this.” Paul pulls the stolen Firebird from his pocket. My first instinct is to lunge for it, but I remain still, except for holding out one hand to keep Theo back. Paul continues, “I ran the data over and over. I’ve learned a lot, but I have a lot further to go. In other words—if you want it back, the answer is still no.”
“Listen to me.” I step closer to Paul. “Remember what I said last night? This man, Wyatt Conley, intends to sabotage your work in this dimension. If we fail, he’s just going to send someone else. Lots of someone elses. Conley’s not a man who gives up until he gets what he wants.”
Paul retorts, “So I should surrender to you now and save myself the trouble?”
Theo’s eyes narrow. Obviously he’d like to rip into Paul. But I told him to let me take the lead on this, and he lives up to his promise, saying nothing.
“Here’s the bargain I’m offering you,” I tell Paul. “In our dimension, Theo works on the Firebird project too. He helped build this. If you agree, Theo will sit down with you and explain everything about how this works. He’ll go over your own designs, critique them, whatever it takes to get you guys ready to make a Firebird of your own.”
“You’re a physicist?” Paul says to Theo. The amount of surprise in his voice isn’t insulting—but it comes close.
“Hey, I might have been tracked into telemetry systems this time around, but in my dimension? I taught you everything you know.” Theo grins. “Well. Almost everything. I have to keep a few things to myself. Maintain my advantage.”
I cut in. “He can get you there, Paul. If you let Theo show you, you can crack the secrets of the Firebird within the day.”
He doesn’t even know what to say to an offer that good. “Then I’m supposed to give this back to you. And—and you’d take back the splinter of your Paul’s consciousness. Is that all?”
