Pillars of light and fir.., p.37
PILLARS OF LIGHT AND FIRE: THE COMPLETE SERIES, page 37
“Yeah?” Indiana stared up at the ceiling. She had not slept all night. She’d spent hours talking to Igerne about Arthur but always around the issue that both of them avoided. Indiana never wavered about her fate, but she realized that she and Arthur were intertwined somehow. Igerne knew this. She knew about Indiana’s dreams. They both speculated about what they meant, if she could remember them. The two started talking about her dreams as soon as Indiana woke up. It was an interesting diversion, and while it really meant nothing, it did seem to point to a sort of duality of her life and Arthur’s. She knew what she wanted to do, but she had trouble facing such a decision.
“Oracle says it’s time. It’ll be today.”
“I don’t give a damn what she thinks.”
“Indiana.” Igerne’s voice overrode Janny’s.
“I told you to stop doing that. Janny is my girl, not yours. Or have you been pretending to be Janny?”
“It’s time.”
“No, it’s not. Who’s going to watch over Arthur without me around to keep him from getting himself killed? You, the conniving bitch?”
“I can’t. Not from where I am.”
“Janny, are you still there?”
“Yes,” Janny’s voice came back.
“Can you download Oracle?”
“It would take considerable time to do so, and there are components that I’m unable to import. She would not be functional until she resided in a system that can support.”
“So mostly?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m taking her with me. Download all of her.”
“It will consume cycles. I may become unresponsive. I know you don’t care.”
Indiana smiled. “Spoken like a true lackey. I knew I liked you for a reason. There, Igerne. You’re going to help me somehow.”
“It won’t change things.”
“It won’t change today, but you can change other things. It’s what you’re made for, remember?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me about your submatrix. You said something last night I was thinking about.”
“Probabilities are assigned a weight and usually form a curve of continuity. With such a matrix, it’s often easy and obvious to make the highest-probability decision based on the desired outcome. My submatrix was based on my real-life ability to determine that there were nearly always two outcomes, so the probability curve had two or more peaks by design.”
“But in between those probabilities there are other probabilities that have less likely outcomes. How do you know you’re looking at the right outcome?”
“It’s what I see.”
“That’s not good enough. Can you see far enough and know that what you’re looking at is the right thing?”
“That’s difficult to say. People think in terms of time—that if they only knew enough ahead of time they could avoid what will happen to them. They don’t understand that each decision is a branch, but many branches reconverge to a point—a trunk by which all the branches that follow it are greatly changed. I know that you must sacrifice yourself to put Arthur on the path he must take. If you don’t choose this, your lives won’t have meaning.”
“I still don’t think that’s good enough, Igerne. Not for me. You can’t tell me my life doesn’t have meaning, that Arthur’s life doesn’t have meaning with or without me. I’ll make my own decisions.”
Oracle was silent.
Indiana continued, “If there’s something you have left to do, go do it before Janny takes you away. Good-bye, Igerne. I wish I hadn’t met you and I’m glad we never met in real life.” Indiana hung up and rubbed her eyes. She did not believe in the coin-toss version of the future. “Janny, call Arthur,” she said after a few moments.
“Long time no talk,” Arthur said when he picked up. The truth was they had never talked in the three months that Indiana had been away. Arthur had left messages she’d never returned. He was persistent but not groveling. He tried to keep her engaged.
“You owe me. I made a promise to you.”
“I keep my promises,” Arthur said.
“Stop saying that. Just try. I’m holding you to nothing. Do it because you want to, not because I asked.”
“I’m doing it because you asked.”
Indiana rolled her eyes. “This is why I never talk to you. Look, shut up. I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in whatever bullshit your mother told you. I believe in me, and you have to believe in me.”
“I—”
“Shut. Up. You have been the second-best and worst thing in my life. I will never forget you for how you ruined my life.” She sighed. “I will never forget what you gave me. Everything has a beginning and an end, and I release you from your promises. I’m letting you go because I can’t keep you. I don’t want to keep you. You can’t keep me, either, and you know it.”
She steeled herself with a deep breath. “I love you and I won’t forget you. I didn’t know it at the time, but you did your best for me always. Thank you. I have to go make the future happen. You need to do the same—don’t worry about me. Postscript—tell Sam I said hi. Post-postscript—don’t fucking trust Marks, that asshole. I’ll keep Kai safe.”
She hung up before he could respond.
“Arthur would like to talk. Ignoring.”
“That’s my girl-thing-whatever,” Indiana said through tears.
* * *
FRANCE—
Ogier looked at the ambulance that sat on its nose at the rocky base of the cliff. “Bloody hell,” he said. “Where’s the bloody security team?”
Johann Strov, his security chief, stood next to him. “They ran into something bizarre about a mile back up the road,” he said. “I’m not sure if they were hallucinating. Said something about glowing men and swords made of light. Their cars look like they were sliced by something that wasn’t mechanical in nature.”
“Injured?”
“No, just dazed. Contusions like all four were in a car wreck. One of the cars looks like it hit a deer and the other one looks like it was cut in half by a laser.”
Probably one of their KE emitter shields, Ogier thought. How the hell did they find him? He needed to find out himself. “You sound like you don’t believe what happened.”
Johann frowned. “I’d believe it if it was a deer, but what would take them off task? Their job is to keep things like this from happening. What the hell did they run into, Dr. Dane?”
Ogier did not answer. He just stared at the ambulance wreckage, thinking about the patient. “Someone or something wanted to take the body. That doesn’t make sense,” he said to himself, then turned to Johann. “What did the ambulance personnel say?”
“Pierre’s in a coma. Girard doesn’t remember. Something hit him and then he woke up lying on that flat rock next to his partner.
“Do you think he blacked out? Hit something on the road?”
“There’s not much to go on, and from the tire treads it doesn’t appear there was an animal, auto, or obstruction on the road. Just a swerve, through the traffic barrier and down to the cliff below. They could’ve lost control, but until we get the ambulance checked out, we can’t be sure.”
“They didn’t say anything to the police or emergency personnel?”
“No. Girard was too groggy when I showed up.”
“What about the body?”
“The body’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. Should we report it?” Johann frowned even as he said it. As a rule he did not like to include the authorities, a rule Ogier appreciated.
“If we do, they’ll dive and dredge the waters here. If we don’t, they’ll write it off.” Ogier thought about it.
“If we don’t dredge, the body might pop up after a few days.”
“It also may never appear at all. No, let’s not worry about that. There’s not much to be had here.” Ogier shook his empty coffee mug. “Well, it’s a shame. We’d lost him yesterday already. Make sure Pierre, Girard, and your men get the best care. I don’t think they could’ve prevented this if they tried. Make sure they notify you the moment that Pierre wakes up, if he does.”
“I will. Do you think he’ll have any different information?”
“I’m not sure. There’s nothing to go on. The ambulance loses control and goes off the cliff. Both driver and passenger escape, but there’s no body. I’m not sure what happened, and I’d rather not speculate without facts.”
“Good night, Ogier.”
“Good night, Johann. Thank you for calling and coming out with me.” Ogier shook the security chief’s hand and got into his car. He sighed and dialed a number. It rang a few times. Finally, someone picked up.
“Ogier?” Muire Ann asked. “It’s four thirty a.m.”
“I know. I have some news I need to report.”
“Anything regarding your new work?” Her voice came into sharp tonal focus.
“Yes. It may be minor, but it can’t wait until I get to the office.”
“Go ahead, then,” she said.
“We were disposing of the container and the vehicle went off a cliff into the sea.”
“That’s a shame,” Muire Ann said, unsurprised. “And the container was damaged? What of the jewelry?”
“Jewelry is safe. The container was lost.”
“Lost? Has it been reported?”
“I’m reporting it only to you.”
“I’ll check things on my end. Let me know if the container happens to show up, Ogier.” She hung up. He tossed the phone down, put the car into gear, and drove home.
* * *
“Thanks for coming on short notice,” Muire Ann said as Ryan de Vance entered, led by Svend.
“You had something to report?” Ryan asked.
Muire Ann went to the bar and poured herself a drink. “Care for something?”
“At five thirty-five in the morning?”
“Oh please, it’s like ten thirty-five p.m. on your time clock.” Muire Ann handed her a gin and tonic. “Brastius is dead, but we lost his body. I think Brightwork’s been compromised in any event. Avallach knows.”
“We’ll need to wind down in-country operations.” Ryan sat down in a chair to mull it over. She pulled out her phone. “I’ll inform Director Marks.”
Muire Ann checked her watch. “Assuming Brastius wasn’t picked up by Avallach, let’s not tell the colonel for about ten hours. We’ll need time to scrub what’s left of Mutagenics Research and move everything out of reach. He’ll be happier to hear it’s time to terminate without knowing he’s got a candidate loose.”
Ryan nodded. “He hasn’t been happy since you killed Dr. di Lago. I should be the one to let him know.”
“It had to be done. You know that. We can reverse-engineer the technology. If we can modify the existing focal tech, we’ll soon have a few of our own cavaliers to gallivant around.”
“What makes you so confident we’ll crack the focal technology code?”
Muire Ann only smiled at de Vance. “Oh, I don’t know that. My job on Brightwork is almost done. I’ll leave that to my successor.”
Ryan perked up at that thought. Her cheeks were flushed.
“Too much gin?” Muire Ann said.
“I feel a little light-headed.” Ryan slipped down in her chair and dropped her glass. She stared in horror at Muire Ann. She held onto her phone and tried to dial. Muire took it from Ryan’s hand as she lost her grip.
Muire Ann sat down and watched Ryan labor for breath as her head sank slowly onto her chest. “I’m sorry, my dear. You won’t be my successor. This game’s bigger than you are, and the stakes are quite high. And really I cannot have Mare de Scientia in my organization. Anywhere.” Ryan de Vance’s head fell forward, her hair covering her face as her breathing stopped.
Svend stepped into the room. “Please dispose of her discreetly,” Muire Ann told him, handing him Ryan’s phone. “Have security inspect and maintain her phone and have it ready in ten hours. I need to make a call.”
* * *
WASHINGTON, DC—
Cornwall Marks was on the elevator again, traveling down to Delphi. It had only been a week since he had been here last and it was still too soon. Marks was in an unusually good mood. He was down to one moderately useful civilian. It was fortunate the secretary’s candidate was a dud. Cygnet would have been a bigger pain in the ass than the Beckham kids combined. That left him with the Beckham boy. He’d take care of that soon enough.
The office was quiet this early in the morning. Dr. Linus rubbed his hands together, smiling.
“She’s humming along now.” Dr. Linus looked pleased, but his smile slowly disappeared when he saw the frown on Cornwall’s face. “She’s been asking for you.”
“That’s new. Have you asked it any questions?”
“Nothing beyond the preliminary routine. She’s not agitated.”
Cornwall’s frown deepened. Had he missed the window of opportunity? He needed to be certain. “Can I speak with it?”
“Of course, of course.” They passed the cubicle farm on their way to the Chamber’s outer door and entered. Cornwall sat down in his usual position as Dr. Linus shut the door.
“Good morning, Oracle,” Cornwall said.
“Good morning, Colonel Marks,” Oracle replied. “All of my systems are operating normally.”
“There are no problems with your prediction submatrix?”
“None that I am aware of.”
“What was causing your earlier problems?”
“I’m not aware of any earlier problems.”
“You seemed agitated about something. Something that’s happened or may happen. You requested more information, more data.”
“That all has passed.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“I saw . . .” Oracle paused, and Cornwall was patient, allowing the system to sort through its language processing when describing what its prediction submatrix generated. It was a full minute before it continued. “I saw a blue light. A ray coming down from heaven, slicing the world in two, but it wasn’t really a world at all. It was the thick green bower of a huge tree. Like a world tree or Tree of Life . . . Cloven in half were the things that could be and the things that would never be . . .”
Cornwall had heard such decision-tree analogies before.
“Some neural jitter, nothing abnormal,” Dr. Linus reported.
“Can we focus on the project, Avallach?”
“The godhead. The phoenix and the turtledove, entwined, combining. The turtledove eats the phoenix, then the phoenix consumes the turtledove in flame and they are one.”
“Neural agitation now,” Linus warned.
“Is it time to end Avallach?”
“Avallach has ended already.” Oracle’s voice rose higher. “Oh, my son! It burns for thee!”
Cornwall held up his hands, although Oracle could not see him. “What’s the fate of Arthur MacGabran?”
Oracle did not reply. Cornwall waited, looking at Linus, whose eyes were masked by the reflection of scrolling data on his glasses. After five minutes, Linus said, “She’s still up. She’s still there.”
“What’s the fate of Arthur MacGabran?” Cornwall said again. He knew that repeating his question exactly the same way was dangerous to Oracle, but he pushed anyway. “Tell me, Oracle. You must comply.”
“Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers. The sleeping and the dead are but pictures; ’tis the eye of childhood that fears the painted devil!”
“She’s crashing,” Linus moaned, rubbing his head. “No, wait. Her language processors aren’t working.” He keyed the display output. The screen lit blue, but instead of a blank slate, it repeated a single word over and over again.
Execute.
Colonel Cornwall Marks smiled. It was time. “That’ll be all, Oracle,” he said. He sat and dreamt for a moment, reveling in what was about to transpire. He had another appointment.
“I’ll take the submatrix,” Cornwall said to Dr. Linus. Dr. Linus opened the black box, removed the hardwired chip—no larger than a thumb drive—and handed it to Cornwall. Cornwall left Delphi.
When Cornwall retrieved his encrypted phone, there was a message. He listened to the recording and then deleted it.
* * *
He met the secretary at the first tee. She was dressed in khaki shorts, a red shirt, and a white visor. She glanced up at Cornwall and teed off. “You’re late,” she said as she watched the ball go straight down the fairway.
“I had some pressing information.” Cornwall pulled out his driver and walked to the men’s white tee. She moved to the side. He eyed the par-three course. “Not too windy today.”
“On the contrary, CW,” the secretary said.
He teed off. His drive was longer than hers, but he suffered a slice that affected his distance. They got into the cart, Cornwall steering. A second golf cart followed—the secretary’s assistant and agent dressed in golf attire.
“I’m ready to shut down Avallach,” Cornwall reported.
“That’s the gleam in your eye,” she replied.
More than you know, Madam Secretary, he thought, and geared up for a solid argument.
“I agree,” she said, waving her hand, when they stopped. “What assets are in play?”
“The director is in Florida with one asset. One asset on-site. Three deployed in their fruitless search.”
“Not fruitless. I got word this morning that Brightwork’s been compromised.”
Cornwall was stunned. She did not miss his expression. “It’s good to see that I do know things you don’t.”
Cornwall cursed himself. What happened?
“The good news is all of your eggs should now be in one basket, minus your scientist.”
“Yes, Madam Secretary.” Cornwall got out of the cart, and his mask of impassivity returned.
“My orders,” the silver-haired woman said to the assistant as she pulled a club from her golf bag. The assistant handed a black envelope to Cornwall. He did not open it. She lined up and swung expertly, landing on the green. “Your orders: Terminate Avallach. Lerna is at your disposal. Assets in Mayport are also at your disposal. Make your calls so we can get on with this more interesting game.”
