Defenders (42 page)

As she typed a few tentative variations, she watched the genetic code transform before her eyes. Without the Mizrahi protocol, which translated genetically expressible characteristics into genetic code, it would take years to design these changes. It was amazing, really, that she hadn’t had to think in terms of adenine, cytosine, guanine, and thymine since graduate school. All of that was automated.

Lila jumped as a voice blared in her head.

Minka is coming to see you about an employee. She’ll be at your door in less than two minutes.

Lila masked the program she was working on, called up a productivity report. She had no idea the Luyten was eavesdropping, but it made sense—they had as much riding on this as she.

After Minka left, Lila waited, in case she thought of something else and returned.

All clear
, the Luyten said before she could resume work on her own.

When darkness came Lila texted both Kai and Erik to tell them she wouldn’t be home until late. She went on working, knocking back coffee, driven by anxiety, blocked not only by a dawning understanding of how difficult, if not impossible, this was, but by doubts about whether she should be doing it at all.

At 3 a.m. she packed up and went home. If she stayed all night it might raise suspicion. On top of that, she wasn’t making progress. Not real progress, anyway. So far she was only learning what
wouldn’t
work. As she turned off the lights, it occurred to her that if the Luyten were telling the truth about the defenders’ plans, then in a very real sense every day she failed to create the blueprint for the altered defenders, millions of lives could be lost. Not that she needed to feel any more pressure.

Halfway home, the Luyten’s voice blared in Lila’s head again.

Please turn around and go back to your office. Make a portable copy of the defenders’ blueprint. Take it to Oliver’s apartment.

“Are you fucking kidding me? If I’m caught carrying a copy of—” She shut her mouth, thought the rest.
Of the blueprint, I’ll be killed on the spot, and if I’m followed to Oliver’s apartment, he’ll be killed.

I’m passing on this request from Oliver. You’ll understand when you get to his apartment.

“Why can’t you just tell me now?”

I could, but it would ruin the surprise.

Lila slowed, pulled into an empty Wendy’s parking lot, and turned around.
The surprise?
Lila couldn’t help but laugh. How long had it been since she’d had a surprise that wasn’t a shitty one?

Surprise.
Your own people are dropping bombs on your head.
Surprise.
While you were a POW, your husband was shot a half dozen times.

This is a good surprise.

“Stop eavesdropping.”

I literally can’t.

“Then have the courtesy to pretend you’re not eavesdropping.”

That seemed to shut the thing up.

As she knocked on Oliver’s door, Lila tried to imagine what could possibly be on the other side that would surprise her. What she really wanted was to hear that she didn’t have to do this, that they’d come up with another plan to avert the coming genocide, but that seemed too much to hope for.

The door swung open; instead of Oliver, Lila found herself face-to-face with a ghost.

“Oh my God,” Lila whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

Dominique grinned. “I can’t believe it, either.”

Lila launched herself, wrapping both her arms and legs around Dominique, who dropped to the floor under her weight, laughing.

“You’re going to help me?” Lila asked, speaking into Dominique’s shoulder. She noticed Oliver, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching the two of them and grinning. Another man Lila didn’t recognize stood behind him, watching over Oliver’s shoulder.

“Let’s get to it,” Dominique said.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Oliver said.

Lila leaned back so she could look into Dominique’s eyes. “Tell me we’re doing the right thing.”

Dominique shook her head. “I used to think I knew when I was doing the right thing, but no more. At least we’re doing something. I’m not much in love with the status quo.”

Lila wished she could be so laissez-faire about it. The tightness in Dominique’s brow suggested she might be putting on a brave front, to take some of the pressure off Lila. That would be just like her.

Oliver stared down at the phone, his heart pounding. If he was going to call her, he needed to just do it; there was never going to be a moment when he felt calm and collected making this call.

He punched Vanessa’s number, raised the phone to his ear.

Vanessa answered on the third ring. When she heard his voice, she said, “How did you get my number?” She didn’t sound angry, only surprised.

“The same way you got my address.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“I just wanted to check in, make sure my friend stopped bothering you.” Since the defenders had taken over, talking on the phone had become an art. You had to avoid using key words that would trigger their automated filter and bring your call to their attention.

“Yes, he has. Thanks for intervening.”

“I’m just glad I was able to get in touch with him.”

Vanessa started to speak, stopped, breathed a sigh into the phone. “I have to say, it’s given me a new appreciation for what you went through. Your friend knows just what buttons to push.”

Oliver felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. “Thank you for saying that.” He looked up, found himself staring up at his Marvel superhero FOOM (
Friends of Ol’ Marvel
) poster. It reminded him of Five’s take on why he’d gone back to collecting comics, all those years ago.

“It’s impossible to understand what it’s like, until you experience it yourself,” Vanessa said.

Oliver wondered if that had been Five’s strategy all along—not to try to convince Vanessa to reconcile with Oliver through his words, but to give her a taste of what Oliver had gone through. Although Five never would have been able to capitalize on Oliver’s doubts about Vanessa’s fidelity if the doubts hadn’t been there to begin with.

“It still doesn’t excuse what I did,” Oliver said.

“Let’s not go there,” Vanessa said. “That was a lifetime ago.”

“It certainly feels like a lifetime.”

“‘May you live in interesting times.’ That’s what the Chinese used to say, if they wanted to curse someone.”

Oliver laughed. “We’ve certainly lived in interesting times.”

“We certainly have.”

There was a pause. Oliver listened to the sound of Vanessa’s breathing.

“Well,” Vanessa said, “thank you for calling. I’m glad we talked.”

“I am, too. You have no idea.”

Oliver set his phone on the coffee table. That one call, those four or five minutes, had brought him more peace than all the hundreds of hours of psychotherapy he’d undergone after the war. He went over Vanessa’s words in his mind, wanting to commit them to memory so they could go on salving that wounded place.

What would his life have been like, if he and Vanessa had stayed together? Certainly he would have laughed more. She’d been such a light and playful presence, had been able to bring out a playful side of him he hadn’t even known about. That side of him had shriveled and died during the divorce, and the war. Maybe he would have rediscovered it with Galatea, who had reminded him of Vanessa in a lot of ways, but really, how well had he known Galatea?

He wished he could talk to Vanessa again, but next time he wouldn’t have a handy excuse. Maybe that was okay, now that Vanessa had apparently forgiven him.

Did he still have feelings for her after all these years, or were they only memories of feelings? Over the years he’d spent so much time thrashing himself for losing the love of his life that he’d rarely stopped to think about whether the present-day, flesh-and-blood Vanessa was still the love of his life. How would he know that, unless he got to know her again?

He picked up the phone. What was the worst that could happen?

She answered on the first ring, sounding surprised. “Hi, again.”

“Hi. I was just wondering: Would you like to have coffee sometime?” He closed his eyes, held his breath.

“Sure. That would be nice.”

“Great. Great.” Oliver stammered, feeling like the awkward doofus he’d been that first time he called Vanessa and left a message. He’d asked her to go to the Smithsonian. He winced at the thought of it. The Smithsonian. How romantic.

Is this a good time to ask for
your
forgiveness?
Five asked, as soon as Oliver was off the phone.

Oliver considered. “I appreciate the gesture you made,” he allowed.

We’re going to be allies. It’s important we trust each other.

Oliver chuckled at that one. “It’s a lot easier to trust someone when you can read his mind. You don’t have to take it on faith; you
know
that if I have any say in it, we’ll keep our word to you.”

I wish I could open my mind to you, so you could know I feel the same.

“Yeah, well.” Oliver went over to look at the FOOM poster. All of the major Marvel superheroes were represented, racing, jumping, and flying like they were coming right out of the poster at you. Silver Surfer led the way. Usually it was Spider-Man, or the Hulk. Wasn’t Silver Surfer the only alien among the Marvel superheroes? Oliver was pretty sure he was.

So far we’ve contacted two hundred fifty-seven people with strong military leadership experience, all over the world.

“
What?
I thought we agreed to tell no one until all of the defenders were in place.”

We’re not telling them about the defenders. Each thinks we’re negotiating only with him or her, about humans and Luyten mounting joint attacks. We have to get your commanders used to the idea of this alliance.

Oliver was not at all comfortable with the idea of the Luyten choosing the human leadership, but he didn’t see another option. They knew who might be open to this alliance, and they would know immediately if someone could not be trusted.

Exactly.

“Now if only I were sure I could trust you.”

We’ve also salvaged more than two thousand tons of weapons the US and Russian governments stashed during the cold war
, Five went on, ignoring the comment.
As the first altered defenders are put in place, we’ll begin the Luyten-only attacks on the defenders’ least-defended weapons storage facilities. The first wave of altered defenders have been produced, by the way. They’re a week into language training.

Oliver felt a surge of adrenaline. There was no turning back now; this was really going to happen. “Do they seem all right?” He hadn’t spoken to Lila and Kai in more than three weeks, he realized.

I think so. Since I can’t read the others, I have no basis for comparison. They’re not like you.

“How so?”

Their minds are howling storms. Even before they learn language, their minds are always churning. If these are the minds of defenders with a crucial neurotransmitter added, I can’t imagine what the others’ minds are like.

Erik leaned forward in his chair, looked past Lila, over at Kai for the third or fourth time. Kai suspected Erik was looking for signs that Kai was pleased about the Luyten attacks. Short of giggling and pumping his fist in the air, Kai couldn’t imagine what it would take for Erik to pick up on Kai’s feelings. Kai was taking no chances, though; he was wearing his best damned poker face.

“I hope you appreciate my allowing you to watch this,” Erik said to them. “I’m not supposed to.”

“Oh, we do appreciate it,” Lila said. Kai piped in with an enthusiastic grunt. If only Erik knew who he was sharing the defenders-only news with. Not that this was all new information—the Luyten kept them updated.

On TV they were showing a satellite image of six or seven Luyten dragging two stunned defenders out of a high-speed locomotive that was lying on its side. The Luyten had blown the track moments earlier, sending the train spilling across the desert sand in sub-Saharan Africa. Looking down from above, Kai couldn’t make out how the Luyten were killing the defenders, but it was clear they were. The stolidly toned news commentator explained that the train had been carrying portable rocket launchers, Tasmanian devils, and other small arms, which were now in the hands of rogue Luyten.

“We were wrong, to let the Luyten live,” Erik said. “We should have executed them all. Plans are being set in place to do just that. Humans can just as easily perform the tasks Luyten do.”

Why bother with two species of slaves, when one will suffice? Erik’s logic was impeccable. Kai couldn’t wait to see Erik’s expression when the real uprising began, when humans and Luyten fought together.

The defenders would go berserk. He hoped the human population wouldn’t lose its nerve.

Erik glanced over at him again, and Kai had a moment of clear, almost prophetic insight: When the uprising began, the first thing Erik would do was hunt Kai down and kill him. The only way Kai could prevent it was if he killed Erik first. The realization knocked the wind out of him.

It wouldn’t be easy; Kai wasn’t going to beat Erik in a shootout. He would have to come up with something Erik would never expect.

“These in-person meetings are getting too dangerous,” Oliver said. Like everyone there, he was wearing black and silver, the defenders’ colors. The Luyten were taking the brunt of the defenders’ rage, but the defenders were tense, and they were quicker to kill humans as well. Not that there was much evidence that wearing their colors improved your chances of surviving, if you crossed paths with a particularly cranky defender.

“Maybe from now on we should only communicate remotely, through Five,” Dominique said.

As if on cue, Five galloped out of the woods. Lila felt a surge of something like affection. She tried to tamp it down, but couldn’t. It was hard to remain suspicious of someone (or some thing) when your life was in its hands (or appendages), and vice versa. Maybe that was part of their plan, to lull the human race with the warmth of camaraderie.