At the center of the room was a sealed glass tank, about five feet high and four feet wide, set on a heavy steel pedestal. Thick cables snaked across the floor from the pedestal to a bank of binary computers against the wall. Three technicians wearing white coats hovered around the glass tank like acolytes at an altar, but when General Nash glared at them, they immediately left the area.
The tank was filled with a thick green liquid that moved and churned slowly. Little explosions, like tiny bolts of lightning, kept flashing in different parts of the liquid. Michael could hear a humming sound and there was a burned odor in the air, as if someone had set fire to a handful of dead leaves.
“This is our quantum computer,” Nash said. “It’s a set of electrons floating in super-cooled liquid helium. The energy passing through the helium forces the electrons to interact and perform logical operations.”
“Looks like a big fish tank.”
“Yes. Only the fish are subatomic particles. Quantum theory has shown us that, for a very short period of time, particles of matter go off into different dimensions and then return.”
“Just like a Traveler.”
“And that’s what happened, Michael. During our first experiments with the quantum computer we began to get messages from another realm. At first we didn’t know what was going on. We thought it was an error in the software program. Then one of our scientists realized that we had received binary versions of standard mathematical equations. When we sent off similar messages, we began to receive diagrams that showed us how to create a more powerful computer.”
“And that’s how you built this machine?”
“Actually, this is our third version. It’s been a continual process of evolution. Whenever we improved our computer, we could receive more advanced information. It was like building a series of powerful radios. With each new receiver you could hear more words, obtain more information. And we’ve learned about things other than computers. Our new friends have taught us how to manipulate chromosomes and create different hybrid species.”
“What do they want?” Michael asked.
“This other civilization knows all about the Travelers and I think they’re a little bit jealous.” Nash looked amused. “They’re trapped in their own realm, but they’d like to visit our world.”
“Is that possible?”
“The quantum computer has been tracking you as you’ve crossed the barriers. That’s why we placed the wires in your brain. You’re the scout who’s going to provide a road map for our new friends. If you cross over to another realm, they’ve promised to send us the design for an even more powerful machine.”
Michael stepped closer to the quantum computer and watched the little flashes of lightning. Nash thought that he understood power in all its forms, but Michael suddenly realized the limits of the general’s vision. The Brethren were so obsessed with controlling humanity that they weren’t looking very far down the road. I’m the gatekeeper, Michael thought. I’m the person who controls what happens. If this other civilization really wants to enter our world, then I’ll decide how that might occur.
He took a deep breath, and then stepped back from the quantum computer. “Very impressive, General. We’re going to achieve some great things together.”
47
Maya took a wrong turn in the desert and got lost looking for the abandoned missile base. It was late in the day by the time she found the barbed-wire fence and the broken gate.
She felt comfortable wearing dark custom-tailored clothing, but that would have drawn attention in this environment. While she was in Las Vegas, she had gone to a Salvation Army store and bought drawstring pants, skirts, and tops-nothing too tight around the shoulders and legs. That afternoon, Maya was wearing a cotton pullover and a pleated skirt-like something a British schoolgirl would wear. On her feet were steel-toed mechanic’s shoes, very effective when used with a roundhouse kick.
She got out of the van, slung the sword carrying case over her shoulder, and then glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. That was a mistake. Her tangled black hair looked like a bird’s nest. It doesn’t matter, Maya thought. I’m just here to protect him. She marched over to the gate, hesitated, and then felt compelled to return to the van. Maya was furious-almost shouting with rage-as she brushed her hair. Fool, she thought. Bloody fool. You’re a Harlequin. He doesn’t care about you. When she was done, she threw the brush into the van with an angry flick of the wrist.
The desert air was getting cooler and dozens of king snakes were out, slithering across the asphalt road. Because no one was watching her, she drew the sword and kept it ready in case one of the reptiles got too close. This acknowledgment of her own fear was even more frustrating than the incident with the hairbrush. They’re not dangerous, she told herself. Don’t be a coward.
All these angry thoughts disappeared as she approached the little trailer parked beside the windmill. Gabriel was sitting at the picnic table beneath the parachute sunscreen. When he saw her, he stood up and waved. Maya studied his face. Did he look different? Had he changed? Gabriel smiled as if he’d just come back from a long journey. He looked glad to see her again.
“It’s been nine days,” he said. “I started to worry about you when you didn’t show up last night.”
“Martin Greenwald sent me a message through the Internet. He hadn’t heard from Sophia, so he thought everything was all right.”
The trailer door popped open. Sophia Briggs came out with a plastic pitcher and some cups. “And everything is all right at this particular moment. Good afternoon, Maya. Welcome back.” Sophia placed the pitcher on the table and looked at Gabriel. “Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“He crossed the four barriers,” she told Maya. “You’re defending a Traveler.”
At first Maya felt vindicated. All the sacrifice had been worthwhile to defend a Traveler. But then much darker possibilities pushed through her mind. Her father was right: the Tabula had become too powerful. Eventually they would find Gabriel and then he would be killed. Everything she had done-finding this person, bringing him to the Pathfinder-had only pulled him closer to destruction.
“That’s wonderful,” Maya said. “This morning I was in contact with my friend in Paris. Our spy told him that Michael has also crossed over.”
Sophia nodded. “We knew the news before you did. Gabriel saw him just before he left the fire barrier.”
AS THE SUN went down, the three of them sat beneath the parachute and drank powdered lemonade. Sophia offered to make dinner, but Maya rejected the idea. Gabriel had stayed here too long and it was time to leave. Sophia picked up a stray king snake coiling beneath the table and carried it over to the silo. When she returned, she looked tired and a little sad.
“Goodbye, Gabriel. Come back here if you can.”
“I’ll try.”
“In ancient Rome, when a great general came back from a successful war, they would parade him in triumph through the streets of the city. First would come the armor of the men he had killed and the standards he had taken, and then the captive soldiers and their families. Next came the general’s army and his officers and, finally, the great man himself in a golden chariot. One servant would guide the horses while another stood behind the victor and whispered in his ear: ‘You are mortal. You are a mortal man.’”
“Is that a warning, Sophia?”
“A journey into the realms doesn’t always teach compassion. A Cold Traveler is a person who has taken the wrong path. They use their power to bring more suffering into the world.”