Ashe did not imagine the ice seeping into the Chameleon’s voice, or the aura of purpose that subtly altered the way she sat. It was true that even illogical time had observable links that could be followed, if one looked hard enough. Ashe had a feeling this woman always looked hard enough.
“You need to tell her,” her man prompted, his voice hovering somewhere between tender and amused. “She can go places you cannot. The threat must be contained.” He touched her hand. “Sometimes the impossible you must do means allowing someone else to do the task.”
“Yeah, that went so well last time.”
He looked at Ashe, his pretty mouth curving into a pretty smile. Ashe found her mouth turning up at the edges, too.
I like him better than her.
Do not be fooled, little one. He is more ruthless than she is. He protects her at your expense.
Ashe tensed.
He loves her. She is his present. I am his distant future. I get that. I still like him better. And he is right. This is my job, not hers.
She felt something odd coming from Lurch. Felt something odd in the paradox tremors.
You were her nanite, weren’t you? You’re talking to yourself.
There was a pause—he’d done that too much lately, in her opinion.
I was one of three who lived in her.
Three? No wonder she’s cranky.
Lurch might have twitched, or possibly flinched. And just like that her appetite returned.
TWENTY-ONE
Emily seemed inclined to stare at the airship, which did not surprise Robert, given her love of all things steampunk, so he took charge, pushing her down, then following her into the sparse scrub as the airship chugged its way in what appeared to be a direct line toward them. He pulled a grubby section of her duster over their heads, hoping that from above they’d look like debris, not people. It wasn’t pleasant. Nothing about this place smelled anything but foul. This close, he felt and heard her heart pounding. His pounded, too, not all of it about the looming threat of the airship. There was one pleasant thing about this place.
Emily.
She amazed him, even if she did think it was a dream.
The chugging of the airship built as it closed on their position—its progress ponderous rather than speedy. It felt as if it hovered over them, before inching past, but then the sound changed into a sort of deep cough. This close it was loud enough to drown any sounds they might make, so Robert lifted the edge of the coat. It was out of sight.
“It’s landing.” Emily looked calm, might have been a bit excited, but then she still thought it was all a dream.
He wished it was a dream, except if it was, then Emily would be a dream, too. She was a dream girl, no question, but also wonderfully real—in a whacky kind of way.
Robert eyed the scrub-covered rise, but decided knowing was better than not knowing. “Wait here.” He didn’t wait for her to agree or disagree, just started up, easing through the low scrub in a low profile crawl that felt very black ops.
It is.
His remaining peeps had been quiet for so long, it was a relief to hear Wynken, even a subdued-to-the-point-of-laconic Wynken. He felt them trying to help where they could, while keeping a significant distance from his epidermal layer, as if they feared accidentally breaching it. It left a sensation of loss, even though they weren’t gone. But they’d been so integrated during the transit in the transmogrification machine, he missed that.
We are sorry.
He felt guilty they felt guilty. They’d helped him. Time for some payback.
We’re going to get out of this.
His confidence came, in part, from his sister, but this time he felt his own skills twitch. This problem was scientific and he was a geek—a geek with a promise to a lady to fulfill as well as his obligation to the peeps. He might have let himself down all those years ago, but he wouldn’t let Emily or the peeps down. He owed it to Delilah, too, waiting back at the outpost for him. He could figure this out. He would figure this out.
Like some ungainly bird of prey, the airship turned away from the edge of their “snow” globe, hovering over a barren field between the river and the start of some tenement buildings. Lightning flashed against the edges, silhouetting the airship in brief bursts, like a scene from a horror movie. He wished he could see it better, get a sense of who, or was it what, was at the helm? If their position were about to be over run, it would be nice to know. Based on the size of the inflatable, he’d guess it couldn’t carry an automaton, not with steam propulsion on board as well, though without more data he wouldn’t assume.
The airship and the scene around it had a sepia quality to it, as if it had flown off the cover of a book. How could he blame Emily for thinking it wasn’t real when it didn’t look real?
Robert sensed her joining him, because he couldn’t hear much above the noise of relentlessly chugging airship. He gave her a quick smile, checked their six, which was clear for now. He settled deeper into the scrub as the ship thumped against the ground, bobbed up once, and settled against the ground like a broody, hideously deformed hen. The machine cut off, the silence ominous. Several figures emerged from the shadows in various directions, converging on the airship. A figure appeared at the side, dropping a length of rope to each person, a robot quality to the way they all moved. When enough rope had been dispensed to hold the ship earthbound, he or she tossed over a stool, then followed it to the ground.
“Try these.” Emily pushed her goggles into his hands. “Turn off the infrared and they are regular binoculars.”
If he hadn’t already been halfway in love with the girl, that would have done it.
She is as oh-my-darling as you are, though in a different way.
Robert blinked at that, not sure how to respond, gave up and held the goggles up to his eyes, adjusting them until one of the figures jumped out of the murk—they all appeared to be human. The pilot of the airship’s clothing lacked a defining era, at least one within his range of experience. He shifted to each. They were all human, though he wasn’t sure what that meant to the larger conundrum.
“Looks like a bunch of zombies,” Emily whispered. Robert looked at her, possibly looking a question at her, because she added, “Zombies are huge right now. Ed and I were zombies for Halloween. And don’t get me started on
Plants vs. Zombies
. Of course, they aren’t real zombies, because those eat your brain. At least, I hope they aren’t those kind of zombies.”
Robert could concede the shamble had more resemblance to zombies than robots, now that she’d pointed it out. Delilah’s memories didn’t contain a lot of references on the subject of zombies, something he was grateful for. He blinked and returned his attention to the airship in time to see the ship-staking zombies leaving, fading into the shadows like they were zombies.
“We should check it out.” Emily lifted her head a bit more out of the scrub, examining the area like a bright-eyed puppy, though one with some black ops training.
Nod had to be helping her, too, which helped Robert feel better. Robert almost asked why, but his peeps chimed in.
Recon is always indicated.
“It could be guarded.” If someone controlled the inhabitants of this place, then wouldn’t that someone know that not everyone was under control? Logic dictated some kind of security. The peeps were right, though. There was a need to know. He checked their six again, wondering what was taking the Colonial guy so long—unless the airship had spooked him and whoever he huddled with. “I’ll go,” Robert said, studying the layout for the best approach.
“I’d be a better decoy if someone is watching. Give me my goggles back.” With her other hand, she buttoned her coat, then donned the goggles, finishing with a to-period hat, that covered her not-to-period hair, extracted from a pocket, of course. The brim also threw her face into shadow. “And I’ve had more practice at the zombie shuffle.”
You will be better positioned to assist her.
Blynken was right, but it didn’t help Robert’s gut loosen when Emily began her shuffle down the bank away from him. What if Delilah tried to retrieve him while they weren’t in physical contact?
I don’t believe retrieval is possible from this place. Because of the dampening force.
Emily’s shamble brought her to the airship, though it felt like it took her too long, and too far away. Robert did a fast, low crawl up over the crest, then down the side, all the while scanning for anything that might threaten Emily. As his downloaded instincts kicked in, he had the odd feeling that he could take on—and win—even against an automaton. Part of it was his sister’s black ops skills, but most of it was a surge of protectiveness.
The impossible just takes longer.
He wasn’t sure how the ideas connected, just that they did.
She straightened the stool and climbed up, still in zombie character, and peered over the side. The fading light helped Robert close on her position, though he wished for her goggles and their night vision capability. Those same shadows could hide others. It was good to know an automaton couldn’t sneak up on them. In the deep silence—even the thunder had calmed down some—they’d hear them coming from far away.
Emily jumped up, hung suspended on the edge for several seconds, then tumbled over the side and out of sight. Her thump was followed too quickly by another, louder crash. Adrenalin took Robert up and after her—though black ops had him scanning for threats as he moved in.
A figure lay crumpled between them.
“What happened?”
She lowered the goggles. “I,” Emily swallowed, her face equal parts bewildered and proud, “He came at me from the engine room and he reached for me and I,” she swallowed again, “I knocked him out.” She moved her hands in a vague mimicry of karate. Then she spread them and looked at them as if she didn’t recognize them. “I did this crazy, kung fu thing. And my leg, like, kicked his chin. It was like this ass kicking ballet move.” Her eyes widened in delight. “I totally kicked his ass.” She did a victory something, her fists clenched, her elbows bent.
Nod. We miss it.
Part of him was glad she’d gotten some protective stuff from Nod, part of him hoped she never used it on him. He knelt and checked the guy’s pulse, relieved to find he had one.
She loves you, Robert-oh-my-darling. She would never kick your ass.
She might want to when she realizes she isn’t dreaming—wait a minute. Oh my darling?
When she says your name, she adds oh my darling. At least she did before we lost contact.
She did? I wouldn’t tell her you know that. Or that I know that.
Robert may not know girls, but he was well acquainted with embarrassment. What he wasn’t acquainted with was a girl who called him
oh my darling
. Why—before the thought could complete, one of the peeps played a few bars of the song.
Oh, right. Clementyne.
It probably wasn’t personal. He felt the peeps sigh.
It is very personal.
“Excellent.” He wasn’t sure which of them that was meant for. Probably both Emily and the peeps. Did he have to sound like a total geek? Thankfully, her smile just got bigger and brighter.
Unable to keep looking at her and not kiss her—which was not indicated in present circumstances—he recalled the Colonial guy’s check of their necks. Curious, and relieved to have a reason to look down, Robert did a neck check. He found the scar, a thin one just inside the hairline on the right side of his skull, about five centimeters in length.
She looked down and saw the scar, the smile faltering. She crouched next to him. “So that’s it.” She looked up. “I’ll bet its some kind of mind control thing.”
It is a plausible working theory, based on observed behavior.
“They aren’t acting normal,” Robert agreed, not sure what qualified as normal in this place. He straightened, looking around now that he was inside the gondola of the airship. There was a kind of raised wheelhouse, with an engine room below. No seating for pilot or passengers and the only cover was the engine house. Overhead the envelope tugged at the ropes holding it to the gondola. Emily straightened, too.
“It’s bigger than I expected.” She headed for the engine room. “The steam engine must be bigger than it looks from the outside. Mass-to-energy ratio looks off to me.” She stopped. “Wow, I sounded kind of smart. Ass kicker and smart. I like this dream.”
“You’re brilliant.” He considered telling her she wasn’t dreaming but didn’t want to kill the smile. Not yet. It cut through the dark like a beacon. He almost hoped she didn’t find out she wasn’t dreaming until it was over. Her optimism, her enjoyment of all the weirdness helped keep Robert’s inner oh crap, oh crap, oh crap at a manageable level. “We should keep down, in case there is another, you know, guard. Or someone else watching.”
“Right.” She half-crouched, bringing her head below the side of the airship, and closed on the engine room, its door hanging half open from her assailant’s recent egress.
He cast one more look around, then followed her inside. Dull cast iron hunkered into the small space, still hissing faintly as it cooled from its recent use. She dug beneath the coat and produced another flashlight from what seemed to be an endless number of pockets. He arched a brow.
“I always keep spares. Sucks to run out of batteries when you’re in the middle of something.” She shone it over the machine, jerking to a stop, then backtracking to the red, glowing Abram’s ball.
It was smaller than the one in the transmogrification machine, but they both took a step back. Emily shone the light around with more care.
“Don’t see an anomaly.”
If one didn’t count the big ass one holding them prisoner, Robert amended. He felt a jerk of something, a flicker of an idea, one not formed enough for close scrutiny yet. He left it to simmer at the edge of his mind. Watched ideas rarely boiled.
“The design is a lot like Uncle E’s, just smaller.”
Her uncle did seem to run through everything they did. Why? He added that question to the ideas simmering at the outer edges of consciousness.