Ten Thousand Skies Above You (13 page)

“The hell you can't. You're not the only one who loves
Paul Markov, okay? Anything you'd do to get your boyfriend back, I'd do for my best friend.” He shakes his head; in the moonlight filtering through the window shade, I can see his rueful smile. “Or do you still think I'm the same as that other Theo? Always looking out for number one?”

“You're not him,” I say, just as I've said many times before. Maybe I'm finally starting to believe it. “But . . . do we even have the right to do this? To sabotage this technology when they feel like it's their only hope?”

“They don't know that. We don't know that.”

“If there's any chance they're right, then I'm basically prioritizing my Paul's life over the lives of every other person in this dimension.”

Theo scowls in irritation. “I have two words for you.
Global
and
warfare
. We didn't start the fire, Marguerite. The war going on in this dimension is bigger than the people we've met here. Bigger than this country. Could the Firebird help them? Maybe. But from what I can see, no one weapon could win it for them. So we can't tie ourselves in knots worrying about these guys. We have to look out for ourselves. I need a cure, and Paul needs to come together and get back home. Right?”

I believe what he's saying, mostly. Yet guilt still weighs me down. “I guess.”

More gently, he adds, “Now, come on. Try to sleep.”

Even though I want to argue with him, I can feel exhaustion creeping over me, dark and heavy. I ease down onto the bed, lying on my left side so that I can look toward the
moonlight. The second my head touches the pillow, I know I won't be awake long.

The mattress shifts as Theo moves toward the floor, but I reach back and catch his arm. “Don't go.”

After a moment, he lies down behind me, spooning around my back as he wraps one arm around my waist. It could be a lover's embrace, but it's not. He's simply here with me, close enough for me to hear him breathe, so even in sleep I'll know I'm not in this alone.

Yet I can't stop my imagination from wandering across San Francisco. I envision shabby military housing, and Paul sitting on the edge of his bed, alone. The Firebird is in his hand, and he's mad as hell. But his heart is broken just the same.

BY NEXT MORNING, THEO AND I ARE IN STRATEGY MODE.

“First thing we have to figure out is whether Paul has talked to your parents,” Theo says as he combs his wet hair wearing just his undershirt and uniform pants.

“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?”

I shake my head. “No. For this world's safety, and so I can get my own Paul back home, we have to make Wyatt Conley believe we've sabotaged your work. But maybe that doesn't mean we have to actually do it. Could you and Theo create a simulation?”

“A simulation of what?” Paul says.

I don't really know. “Whatever it would look like if your computer networks were destroyed. If your data were erased by a virus. If we had something like that—then, when Conley checks, he'll think you guys are defenseless, when really you'll be building your first Firebirds even before I get home.”

Paul looks even less convinced than before. “You can do that?”

Theo, realizing it's time for him to step in, nods. “With
your cooperation. And also, that Lieutenant Colonel Wyatt Conley who keeps trying to work with you? You have to find a way to keep that guy one hundred percent out of the loop. Our Conley could get inside him, learn what he knows, and find out we faked the whole thing.”

Even though I can tell Paul has begun to believe us, he still doesn't agree. “This could be a trick. Maybe you're going to lead me in the wrong direction, tell me things about the Firebird's construction that aren't true.”

“Do you really not get it?” I could smack him upside the head. “I love my parents. I love my sister. And I love you. Do you think I'd ever leave you guys defenseless in the middle of a war, if I had any other choice? Well, as of this morning, I thought of another choice. So let's take it together, okay?”

“We're not the same,” Paul says again. “Your Paul and me.”

Shaking my head, I smile. “You are, in ways you can't even begin to imagine.”

“Enough relationship talk,” Theo says. “You taking the deal or what, buddy?”

Paul hesitates one moment longer before saying, “Come with me.”

We spend the rest of the day on base; Theo's military ID and my status with my parents make it easy for Paul to get us access. For the next few hours, Theo and Paul get caught up in mega-dense scientific talk, while I drink awful fake coffee and watch them at work. Even here at the base, things
are done low-tech when possible; Theo scribbles math equations on a chalkboard, occasionally brushing his hands free of yellowish dust, and Paul uses an honest-to-God slide rule. Theo's natural affection for Paul slips out from time to time; I can tell Paul both notices it and has no idea what to do with it.

So far as he can, Paul pretends I'm not even there. At first I think this is because he hates me for what I did last night. As time goes on, though, I start to wonder. The way he finds himself watching me, then suddenly turns away, awkward and unsure—it's not unlike the way Paul looked at me back at home, when we'd started to care about each other but didn't yet know what to do about it.

This Paul's feelings for his Marguerite are too strong to be pushed aside. Even when he's angry. Even when he's hurt and scared. He still loves her.

Will she ever fall in love with him, too?

They keep talking science. They set the Triadverse virus loose on a data backup that should pass for the real thing. They get to where they work together almost as smoothly as Theo does with my Paul back at home.

Finally, around two in the afternoon, Theo sits up straight and says, “You've got the data, now. Another few days of review, and you'll be ready to build.”

After a long moment, Paul says, “Thank you.”

That cost him; I can tell. So I say, “Thank you for giving me another chance. I know I didn't deserve it.”

He looks up at me, and for one instant I glimpse the
disappointment there—the hope he felt so briefly last night before it was snatched away. Despite what he must be feeling, Paul holds the Firebird out to me. As I take it, he says, “I knew from the data that you were telling me the truth about—about most things. It made me think you might be telling the truth about it all. If there's a version of me in trouble out there, I'd like to think someone was coming for him.”

“That sounds more like the Paul Markov I remember.” Theo grins in relief.

To Paul I say, “We're going to bring him home. But he's not only out there. He's here, too.”

He looks down at his chest, as if the splinter of my Paul's soul might be hidden inside his own heart.

I step closer to him. “No need to tense up like that. It's not going to screw with your head or anything.”

“Theo says the retrieval method is the same as a reminder,” Paul says. “Reminders hurt, and now I have to take one. How would that not make me tense?”

Theo leans against the nearest wall and shrugs. “You have to admit, he's got a point.”

“Hold on.” I slip my own Firebird around my neck, then press Paul's against Paul's chest. Even through his uniform jacket, I can feel the warmth of his body under my palm. When I raise my eyes to his face, he's looking down at me, and I know we're both remembering how we stood like this last night, just before we kissed.

Or maybe what I see in Paul's gray eyes is that splinter of
my Paul. The one I really love.

I hit the combination Conley taught me in Italy. Paul shudders from the flash of pain, but he makes no sound. The Firebird seems to vibrate in my palm. There it is—the faintest little flicker of heat, the proof that I've recovered the second splinter.

“We've got him.” I breathe out heavily, then grin at Theo.

He grins back. “Two down, two to go.”

Paul is by far the least enthusiastic of the three of us. “I don't feel any different.”

“You don't?” I would've thought my Paul's soul would affect his more. Yet this Paul is already a scientist, already in love with me. Maybe he and my Paul are too much alike for him to feel the impact. “Well, it worked. I promise.”

“You promise a lot of things,” Paul says flatly.

I don't want to leave this universe when he's angry with me. Is that childish? Even selfish? Probably. Yet I want to heal the wound I caused—just like I want to heal all the others. “We're okay?”

“You unlocked the final secrets of the Firebird. So we're even.” Paul doesn't smile as he says it. “Next time, consider asking for what you need, instead of treating me like a fool.”

That stings, but maybe I deserved it. I keep my voice gentle. “Hang in there, all right? With your Marguerite, I mean. You never know when things might change.”

“Hey. I'm standing
right here
,” Theo protests.