Quicksilver (25 page)

I studied Sebastian’s averted face. He was a good liar, but he still had a few tells if you knew where to look. Right now, though, he just looked tired.

“So what are you going to do if the transceiver works?” I asked.

“You mean if it doesn’t work?”

“I mean what I said. Once the relay shuts down and you don’t have to worry about it driving Alison crazy, are you going to talk to her? Or are you going to go on pretending you don’t care?”

Sebastian switched off the TV and laid the remote gently on the table. “After all she’s suffered because of me, don’t you think she deserves better? Even if it was safe to go back to Sudbury, even if I could satisfy Deckard and settle the charges against me, it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of Alison that way. I should never have let myself get so close to her in the first place.”

Privately I agreed, but that horse had left the stable a long time ago and there was no calling it back now. “So you’re going to do what you think is best for her, whether she likes it or not?” I shook my head. “Sorry, but you’re not nearly old enough to be Alison’s dad. And if you say one more time that she’s too young and fragile to make her own decisions, I swear I will punch you in the face.”

“Why?” Sebastian asked. “You saw that e-mail. You know the state she’s in, and you know who’s to blame—”

“I’m as guilty as you are,” I interrupted. “Or more so. Because you’ve been out of her life for six months, but I could have been there for her, and I wasn’t. I told myself it would be easier to lie to everyone else if I didn’t keep reminding myself of the truth and that Alison needed to deal with things in her own way. So I shut her down, and then I abandoned her. Just like you did.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better,” began Sebastian, but I cut him off.

“This isn’t about you. The point is that Alison had every reason to doubt her own sanity, after what we put her through. But until Deckard came around and messed with her head and until she saw that ridiculous website about Meridian, she was doing okay. She’s been through a lot worse than this and survived, so…” I shifted myself into a cross-legged position, tucking my cold feet beneath my thighs. “I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t go and talk to her, once all this is over. Unless you’re afraid she’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not afraid of that.”

No, he wasn’t. He was expecting it. I puffed out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Do what you want. But you still owe her an explanation, when all this is over.”

Sebastian raked a hand through his hair, silvery roots glimmering in the semidarkness. For several seconds he was quiet. Then he said, “Has she written back to you yet?”

He was trying to catch me off-guard, startle me into giving something away. But I was used to Sebastian’s party tricks, and I wasn’t surprised. “Not yet.”

“What did you tell her?”

“What do you think?” I asked. “I told her the truth. I told her she wasn’t crazy. I told her she was right about all of it, and Meridian was just a fairy tale you made up for Milo.” I paused to let that sink in, then went on more briskly, “Speaking of which, have you taken that website down yet? Because I know you didn’t expect Alison to find it, but I think it’s done enough damage already.”

“I deleted it as soon as I saw her e-mail,” said Sebastian. “I’d forgotten about Sanjay and his obsession with alien conspiracies. If I’d known he was still in touch … Anyway. It’s gone now.”

“Good.”

“But if we’re talking about the truth…” Sebastian leaned forward on his elbows, lacing his fingers together. “Have you told your parents yet? And what about Milo?”

The question was mild, but it set my teeth on edge. “My parents know as much as they need to know,” I said. “They know I’m not normal, and I never was. They know I had a chip in my arm when they adopted me, and they know I was abducted and experimented on at least once. You think I need to add anything to that? How would it help them to know that I’m—”

The word caught in my throat. I tried to force it out, but it wouldn’t budge. I shook my head and looked away.

“But they must have guessed at least some of the truth already,” said Sebastian. “The technology that went into making that chip—into making
you—
is beyond anything this world has to offer, top secret experimental laboratories or not. Your doctor would have told them that the first time he examined you.”

“Yes, of course,” I snapped. “But there’s a difference between ‘Your baby was abducted by aliens’ and ‘Your baby
is
an alien.’”

There, I’d said it. The thing I’d known, or at least dreaded, as long as I could remember—until last summer, when my suspicions had been horribly confirmed. The secret Dr. Gervais had come close to finding out, even if she didn’t realize it yet; the truth I couldn’t confess to anybody, even the people who loved me most.

Alison knew, but only because she’d put the pieces together on her own. If she’d waited for me to tell her without prompting … well, she’d still be waiting.

“I don’t know about that,” said Sebastian calmly. “Some people are quite fond of aliens, at least in theory. Dr. Newman, for instance.” He crossed his ankle up onto his left thigh and draped his arm over the back of the sofa, relaxed now that I was the one on the hot seat. “When I told him I’d spotted an anomalous object inside our solar system that might be an artificial wormhole and asked if he’d help me transmit a radio signal to those coordinates, he was positively delighted. He’s been an active member of SETI for years.”

That explained the warm welcome for “Dr. Ashton” and his two student assistants. “And let me guess,” I said, remembering the well-worn equipment I’d seen in the control building. “You offered to give him the transceiver as payment.”

“Well, one way or another, we’re not going to need it after tomorrow. So it may as well be put to good use, don’t you think?”

I rubbed my hands over my face, weariness creeping up on me. “I wonder if he’d be so eager to help,” I said, “if he knew we were trying to close the wormhole and make sure nothing comes through it ever again.”

“Yes. Well. Let’s not find out, shall we?”

To anybody else, those words would have been a warning. But there was no need to remind me to be cautious of people in authority, no matter how friendly and well-intentioned they might seem. Mathis, Deckard, Dr. Gervais … they all had their reasons for wanting to get their hands on me, their own excuses for ignoring every attempt I made to resist them. Because when it came down to it, they all believed their lives, their goals, and their opinions were more important than mine. Why should Dr. Newman be any different?

“When you took that chip out of my arm,” I said, rubbing the small scar above my elbow, “I thought I was safe. But I’m not, am I? Mathis could still send the relay after me if he knew where to look. And he still needs me back, if he’s going to finish his experiment.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Sebastian. “Which was why I had to leave you, once I’d made sure Milo wasn’t going to cause any problems. I wanted to keep the relay as far away from both you and Alison as possible, until I found a way to destroy it.”

No wonder he’d looked so appalled when he’d realized I’d been keeping the relay in my bedroom. “So how much time do we still have, in theory?” I asked. “Shouldn’t Mathis have made a move by now?”

“The problem is the time difference,” said Sebastian. “Remember what I told you and Alison before I sent you home—the wormhole is temporally unstable. Mathis could have started programming the relay to search for you the instant I was out of the way, but on this end of the portal it could be days or weeks before the command gets through.”

“Or hours,” I said flatly. “And here we are at the butt end of nowhere, and you’ve got the relay in your luggage. I sure hope this plan of yours works.”

Sebastian’s mouth curled wryly. “So do I.” He pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps, then paused and half turned. “Niki?”

I looked at him.

“I think you should tell Milo. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” I asked, but Sebastian was already gone.

1 1 0 1 1 1

Tap-tap
.

I lifted my head groggily from the pillow, willing my bleary eyes to focus. The clock read 5:07 n.M., and I let out a groan. “This had better be good.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Sebastian through the crack in the door, “but I’d say it’s at least necessary. I’ve got the key to the control building. And I think it’s time we installed that last component.”

Meaning the relay, of course. And much as I resented being woken up after only three hours’ sleep, I had to agree it was better to do the job when Dr. Newman and his staff weren’t around to ask questions.

“Okay, okay,” I mumbled. “I’m coming.”

I dragged on some clothes and ran a comb through my hair, and by the time I’d finished I was more alert, if not exactly thrilled about it. It felt unreal to be getting up while the sky was dark, especially this late in the spring. But as I followed Sebastian down the steps to the parking lot, an enthusiastic chorus of birdsong assured me that dawn wasn’t far away.

Milo was waiting by the truck, which shouldn’t have surprised me as much as it did. He was the only one of us who’d had a decent night’s sleep, for one thing, and he was used to getting up early. Though I still had to wonder why he’d made the effort … but maybe Sebastian had decided to bring him just for the look of the thing. Milo was supposed to be his assistant, after all.

So we piled in and drove to the antenna, and Sebastian opened up the control building. It was dark inside, but it didn’t take long to find the lights, and soon I’d unwrapped the transceiver and popped open the hidden slot for the relay.

Now for the scary part. I hadn’t touched the relay device in over three weeks—I hadn’t even got close. What if it recognized me and beamed me straight back to Mathis?

And yet if I didn’t take that risk, we’d never get anywhere. The transmitter part of the unit had more than enough power to send Sebastian’s message through the wormhole, but no receiver on Earth could detect what was happening on the other side. Monitoring the relay was our only way to tell if the plan had worked. If the relay powered down completely and its automatic defense systems went offline—then we’d know its communications link to the space station had been severed, and Mathis could no longer find us. But without that, we’d never know if we’d succeeded in closing the wormhole or not.

Time to stop waffling, then, and get the job done. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves from my tool kit, snapped them on, and held out my hand to Sebastian.

“It’s been offline all this time,” Sebastian said, as he took the dull metal sphere out of its case and passed it to me. “I don’t think you need to worry.”

“Well,” I said as I eased the relay into its custom-built socket, “let’s hope you’re right.” Gingerly I pulled out the metal probe, poised it above the top aperture, and began pushing it inside—

Tick.

“What was that?” asked Milo. He sounded alarmed. I couldn’t blame him.

“It’s not going in,” I said distractedly, wiggling the probe around. It ought to reach right into the relay’s quicksilver core; it was certainly long enough. But something was blocking its path.

A defense mechanism, to prevent unauthorized tampering? But I’d tinkered with the relay before with no difficulties, so what had changed now? I pulled out the probe, gripped the top half of the device, and tried twisting it open. It wouldn’t budge.

Sebastian cleared his throat. “It wouldn’t let me open it either,” he said. “I suspect it’ll only respond to a technician.”

Milo looked surprised. “You don’t know? I thought you helped design this thing.”

“Before my time,” said Sebastian. “I know how to use it, but that’s all.”

I looked down at my gloved right hand. Did I dare? My pulse was beating fast in my throat, but I reminded myself that I’d touched the device bare-handed before. I peeled off the glove and lowered my fingertips tentatively to the relay’s surface. It warmed to my touch, as though in greeting.

Once again, I slid the probe through the top half of the casing, touched it to the core—and felt the faint tingle of connection. I’d done it. “Okay, Sebastian,” I said, backing off and wiping my damp palms on my jeans, “we’re good to go. Do you want to start up the transceiver and run some diagnostics now?”

“I can do that perfectly well on my own,” said Sebastian, swinging his laptop bag off his shoulder, “so there’s no reason to keep you. Why don’t you and Milo walk back to the bunkhouse, and I’ll see you at breakfast?”

I had an uncomfortable feeling that he was setting me up, probably hoping I’d take the advice he’d given me last night. Well, maybe it was for the best. Maybe it was time for me to stop keeping Milo at arm’s length, and let him in.

1 1 1 0 0 0

By the time Milo and I reached the bunkhouse the sky had lightened to the pale grey-blue of Alison’s eyes, with a few white streaks of cloud along the horizon. The air was cool, and mist hung over the nearby lake.

“Too early for breakfast,” said Milo. “Let’s check out the beach.” He jogged down the trail to the weed-dotted sand, scooped up a flat pebble, and flicked it out across the shallows. It skipped—once, twice, three times—and sank with a soft
bloop
beneath the surface
.

There was a pair of Muskoka chairs by the shore, their cracked and flaking seats beaded with rain. I wiped one dry with my sleeve and lowered myself into it.

“Tough night?” Milo asked, picking up another handful of stones.

“Could have been better,” I said. The morning was eerily quiet, our voices echoing in the stillness. From the other side of the lake came the lonely, warbling cry of a loon. “You?”

Milo sank three more pebbles one after another, then crunched up the beach and sat beside me. “Look,” he said. “Can we skip the small talk? I’m not blind, Niki. I can see how worried you are. Whatever we’re doing here, it’s a lot more serious than you’ve been letting on.”