

# A Time To Mourn

# A Time To Dance

A SciFi Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella

Book 1 in the Series

Time Viewing of History Exposes Society's Truths

# Lisa Shea

Copyright © 2019 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Lisa Shea.

Book design by Lisa Shea

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

\- v3 -

Paperback ISBN: 9781080035991

Kindle ASIN: B07V4PND1X

Be the change

You wish to see in the world

# A Time To Mourn

# A Time To Dance

# Prologue

"To every thing there is a season,

and a time for every purpose under Heaven."

― Ecclesiastes 3:1

The Hive Collective hackers had done their work with the precision of a neurosurgeon; twelve virtual monitors were laid out in a grid on the wall before me, each displaying an exact mirror of a computer screen somewhere around the world.

One belonged to Lila, a brilliant climatologist working with the U.N. in Denmark. Another was for Roger, an insightful professor of divinity in London. Penjani was researching cutting-edge genetics in South Africa.

My gaze strayed to the twelfth –

I reined myself in.

There. Number seven. That was the one I had to pay attention to. It was the wildcard of the bunch. The carefully calculated risk.

Finally. Mary had at last arrived at her desk, undoubtedly with her double-espresso latte in hand. I could see the mouse-clicks as she reviewed her email.

I flicked a finger, and the audio kicked in. The Hivers were nothing if not thorough.

She blew out her breath in exasperation. "What's this nonsense? A seven day seminar in... where? Manila? Isn't that in Singapore? And it's in two weeks?"

She yelled, "Sarah! Get in here!"

The sound of running feet echoed, and a woman's voice said, "You needed something?"

"Damn right I needed something – why'd you let this ridiculous offer come through? You may have won some shiny awards in those Ivies, but you're here at my think tank now to learn real-world knowledge. And if you can't even manage to figure out which email messages are important enough for me to read –"

Sarah's voice was low but calm. "Please continue on to that next paragraph."

"In two weeks... all paid... at the end of the seven days, if you choose not to participate in our full offer, as a thank-you for your time we will deposit $500,000 in any account..."

Her voice dwindled away. Apparently Mary was now re-reading the material more seriously.

I smiled, but my hands clenched.

Please... please... please...

Mary's voice took on a more unctuous tone. "Sarah, you know what? I think it's time that you show us what you've got. I'm going to give you that opportunity. I'm going to send you to this conference. You wanted to see the world, right? Well, I hear Singapore's beautiful this time of year."

"The Philippines."

"Huh?"

"Manila is in the Philippines."

"Yeah. Right. In any case, they say it's all expenses paid. So use the link. Reserve your ticket. Go out there for the seven days."

Her voice grew rich with delight. "And then, of course, you'll refuse whatever follow-up plan they might have. Make sure the $500,000 is immediately deposited into my personal account."

Sarah's voice held no emotion. "Of course, Mary."

"It says here not to tell anyone – that this is a private offer." Mary snorted. "Of course it is. They don't want anyone else trying to horn in on a half-million dollars." Her tone grew sharp. "We can't risk losing that. So make sure nobody else knows about this seminar, whatever it is. I'll just tell people you're... you're in a rehab facility. Nobody questions that sort of thing. It's just for a week, anyway. You got all your shots?"

"I'm ready for travel, Mary."

"Good. Good. Go get your schedule arranged. Make sure you arrange for a temp to cover for you. Keep it all hush-hush."

Footsteps faded away.

Mary chuckled with glee. The screen changed to a search engine. A few more clicks, and she was on an auction site featuring vintage cars. Apparently she was interested in a cherry-red Ferrari Spider.

She groaned in pleasure.

I flicked off the sound.

Relief coursed through me. If that sequence had gone poorly, the focus group could have included Mary herself. I wasn't sure I could last the full seven days without strangling Mary in her sleep.

Or maybe even while she was awake.

Anastasia had suggested we could just invite Sarah directly, but I'd seen huge risk in that gambit. Sarah could easily have requested permission to attend the seminar from Mary, and if Mary had thought she'd missed out on a plum offer she could have simply not allowed Sarah to go. Or Mary could have used her influence to delve into what the seminar was all about.

And we just couldn't have that. Not now. Not when everything balanced on the head of a pin.

One by one, as the day progressed, the other emails were opened. The audio feeds and resulting web activity showed that each custom-crafted message had done its job. Some of our invitees responded best to flowery flattery. Others preferred straight talk and clear objectives. We had invested days into optimizing each email to lure in its target as surely as a petunia's long, delicate throat was a siren song to a hummingbird.

At last I allowed my gaze to go to that twelfth screen.

To Jason.

He was a night owl, of course, like me. There had been countless late evenings where he and I had virtually strolled a lavender-sand beach, or walked along a boardwalk in a sentient forest, or simply sat side by side on a swinging porch bench, gazing out at a double sunset.

But we'd never met in person. Not once. He had no idea what I looked like. He didn't even know my real name.

His screen shimmered. He'd woken up.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

This was silly. There were far more important things for me to worry about. The stakes for this project were as high as they came. We seemingly had the other eleven invitees on board. One additional participant would not make or break the mission's success.

And yet, if Jason didn't... if he didn't...

He was reading the message.

There was a pause.

Was he... was he hesitating? Was he unsure about coming?

If he didn't come, if he wasn't there, I didn't know, I wasn't sure...

He clicked the link. The one to start the acceptance process.

I collapsed back into a chair, relief coursing through me. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until the long gasps came, refilling my lungs.

It was going to be all right. It was all going to be all right.

And in two brief weeks, we would at long last begin.

# Chapter One

The entry lounge was arranged with exquisite attention to detail. I knew how critical first impressions could be, and, after all, we'd all be cooped up in this submarine for at least seven full days. I had worked hard to craft a welcoming sense of relaxation and ease which would touch each new arrival.

I looked around the room. The elevator came down a central, cylindrical shaft into the very middle of the lounge space. All around were small groupings of sofas and plush chairs in sea foam and ivory. The wooden tables were inlaid teak. The walls were painted ivory with swirling wave patterns.

I had to hand it to the Sheik Maktoum bin Zayed Al Tayer. He had gotten every penny's worth of the $2.8 billion he had paid for this craft.

It was a shame he never got to see it in its completed state.

Champagne bottles were chilling in silver ice buckets. Crystal flutes were arranged on a padded counter, to keep them from sliding. The ship's motion was barely noticeable, thanks to state-of-the-art baffling systems, but I wasn't taking any chances.

I glanced in the shiny metal doors of the elevator one last time, looking myself over.

My amber hair fell just past my mid-back in a soft curtain. My crimson dress flowed with each step I took. The entire outfit, from the subdued jewelry to the sensible shoes, spoke to respectability. Trustworthiness.

My gaze went to my face.

I sighed.

Twenty-nine years. You'd think after twenty-nine years that I'd have found peace with my features. They documented the history of my Vietnamese villager grandmother and the US Marine who had _encountered_ her. But my foster mother had told me in no uncertain terms that the reason I wasn't chosen, the reason family after family looked past me to take a green-eyed blonde American or a chubby-faced Chinese, was my face was wrong.

She'd instructed me to follow every order without complaint. To be a "good girl". If I did as I was told, and I prayed really hard at night, I would at last wake up with a pretty face.

One which would earn me a family.

In the reflection, my eyes shadowed.

That day had never come.

I shook off the past and deliberately brought on a quiet smile. Today was not about me. It was about our arriving passengers. Every one of them would be a tumult of curiosity, anticipation, and nervousness.

After all, we'd never told them what the seminar was about, exactly. Just that it was on a topic which could transform our entire society within the next two months.

We hoped each would choose to join us for the long haul. But, if not, they'd receive $500,000 as a consideration for their time and trust.

The money, held in a verifiable escrow, had been enough to ease even the most hesitant of them over the hurdle of accepting the offer.

The motors of the elevator whirred.

A flurry of butterflies tumbled in my stomach, and I drew in a deep breath. I went to the sideboard and poured out two glasses of Champagne. I'd planned the arrival times with care, spacing them out so I'd have ample time with each person to hand-guide them through the preliminaries.

But I'd made sure Jason was first.

The motors rumbled... eased...

They stopped.

The doors slid open.

Jason stepped out, a small suitcase at his side.

I soaked him in.

He moved just like his avatar did. Of course he did; our in-game avatars had been synced to our real-life bodies and headsets. But it was still a disconnect to see the six-foot human with thick, dark hair moving the way the Soluron warrior had, with his navy-blue skin and ridged skull.

He smiled at me, and my world shimmered...

He said, "Hello."

"Hello," I responded.

"You must be the welcoming committee."

"Yes."

He put his hand forward. "Hi. I'm Jason Watanabe."

Reality shook itself back into me, and I came out of my trance. "Right, Jason, sorry, it's just you're the first to arrive. I'm Phuong. Phuong Nguyen."

His gaze lit up in interest. "The meditation author? One of my friends has about six of your books. She swears by you."

My cheeks blushed with heat. "Yes, well, thank you. And welcome aboard."

He looked around. "Well, it's much nicer than I was expecting. When that motor boat took me out into the harbor, I have to admit my first thought was maybe I was being kidnapped. Though I'm not sure what good it would do to kidnap a journalist. Seems nowadays we don't get much respect."

I automatically sprung to his defense. "With the in-depth research you put into your stories, even those you expose can't find traction to counter your facts. They have to resort to fabricating some new emergency, to shout over your findings and distract readers."

The corner of his mouth turned up. "Glad to hear I've got a fan."

I handed him a glass of Champagne. "You absolutely do."

He held his glass up to me. "To new beginnings, then. May they bring progress."

I clinked my glass to his, and the bell-like tones rang out. "To new beginnings."

We sipped, and it gave me a minute to regain myself. I nudged my head. "Come on. I'll show you to your room."

I led him across the mahogany floor to one of the main hallways. Two doors in, we stopped. I pointed to a metal plate to the right of the door. "Just put your hand against that."

He did.

The edge of the plate glowed green, and then the door slid open.

He stepped inside.

The room was Spartan but clean. The walls were ivory with built-in drawers along the right wall, their faces flush with the wall's surface. A simple queen-sized bed was to the left, also with ivory comforter and sheets. The bed's base held more drawers. A door to the far side led into the small private bath. There were no windows nor wall decorations.

He gave an amused smile. "Well, the email didn't promise luxury accommodations."

I slid open the drawer nearest me and retrieved a tablet about six by nine inches. "Let me show you how the room works."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

I pressed a button. "Wallpaper – blue waves."

The entire wall surface around us rippled, and then it was as if the entire room had been re-papered in a gentle blue wave pattern.

He blinked in surprise. "Video displays? On every wall surface?"

I nodded. "The faces of the doors and cabinets, too. And the floor and ceiling." I pressed a button. "Floor – white Moroccan tile."

The wood-plank pattern changed to decorative squares of white and ivory.

He tapped his shoe on the floor, clearly impressed.

I chuckled. "Watch this."

I pressed another button. "Windows. Hong Kong."

The left wall shimmered, and suddenly there was a bank of windows there, as if we were on the thirtieth floor of a high-rise apartment overlooking nighttime Hong Kong. We could see gridded arrays of buildings, glistening lights, and, far below us, the steady stream of traffic.

He whistled in surprise. He went over to the virtual windows and walked in front of them. "This is amazing! With the detail, it's as if I'm actually looking out into the distance." He put a hand against the wall. "If you hadn't told me, I'd swear this was glass. That there was an actual city out there."

I nodded. "Top of the line technology."

I pressed a button.

The wall before the bed retained its blue wave wallpaper edges, but the center was now a dark movie-screen-shaped rectangle. In a minute, the opening bars of Excalibur began playing.

His eyes sparkled. "Hey, I wondered why you asked me what my ten favorite movies were. And my ten favorite books."

I held up the tablet. "The books are on here. Just in case you have some down time and want to take a break from things. There's other books and movies available, too."

I motioned at the wall screen. "And in case you want to switch things up, and go from fiction to non-fiction..."

I pressed a button.

All the walls, floor, and ceiling flickered, and then it was displayed.

His mouth hung open. "Oh my God."

It still had the power to take my own breath away.

We were standing on a tall mountain peak with snow-laced gray rock beneath our feet. All around us, beneath us, were billowing white clouds. Occasionally smaller peaks would poke up through those clouds, the tops carved by millennia of wind. They were sheer, gray stone dusted with white snow and ice. Monochromatic. Stark.

Utterly spellbinding.

Blue sky stretched high above us, so impossibly high, for as far as the eye could see. There was nothing else higher than us. There couldn't be.

He murmured, "Everest."

He turned in place as the clouds drifted, as the whistling wind echoed around us. One could almost feel the chill.

At last he said, "It's like we're actually there. The video quality is just amazing. The way it seems to account for my movement –"

He stumbled as he bumped against the bed's edge.

I smiled. "You'll get used to that. If you look closely at the wall, here at waist-height, you'll see tiny dots of light. There're there to help you remember where the walls are."

He stared off into the distance, watching the clouds, watching them drift –

I clicked the button. The walls returned to their blue wallpaper with the windows overlooking Hong Kong.

A moment ago he'd been impressed by it. Now his gaze was still searching for those distant peaks.

I put the tablet down on the bed. "It's just before 2pm local time. I'll give you a chance to get showered up and rested. You've had a long flight from California. If you want to just nap or watch movies until dinner, that'll be at 6. If you want to come out earlier to chat, I'll be right out in the lounge."

He turned at that. "Won't you have other guests to attend to?"

"The next group doesn't start arriving until after four. So you've got me all to yourself for two hours."

He smiled at that.

I felt myself lifting, lifting, like a soaring hawk on those mountainous air currents.

He said, "Well, in that case, I'll be out as soon as I clean up."

I nodded and let myself out of the room. I closed the door behind me.

My heart began beating again.

I had done it. I had made it through our first meeting.

And now I just had to last four more days. Four more days until I could tell him who I really was.

Four more days until I found out if my world was going to end – or if it was finally going to begin again.

# Chapter Two

True to his word, Jason emerged a mere ten minutes later, looking fresh, clean, and far more handsome than his photos had ever shown. He was a newspaper reporter, so I'd only found a scattering of videos of him. None had even came close to showing what he was truly like in person.

He was carrying his glass, now empty, and I took up the bottle to bring it over to one of the teak tables. He refilled his glass and we sat, side by side, on the couch.

It could have been Remulon Six. It could have been that time we'd met – virtually, of course - after infiltrating the defense minister's private network and digging out those details about the secret prison system in Kikwit. He'd ended up winning a Pulitzer for that series. We'd gone online, found a cantina down an alley, and a private corner booth...

His smile flashed warm. "So, how do you like it here in Manila?"

"I haven't been off-ship," I told him. "We primarily chose Manila because it's easier to throw watchers off the trail here than, say, Paris or Rome. You know how the Philippines are. So many islands. Countless people coming and going. If any of you were followed, we'd be able to figure that out and lose the tail. Once everyone's on board, of course, the sub itself will be nearly impossible to find."

"So how many of us are there?"

"Twelve. You'll be meeting them soon enough. Everyone's scheduled to come in tonight, and so far there haven't been any issues reported."

"Oh? Who's on the attendee list?"

I smiled. "Like I said, you'll be meeting them soon enough. No need for me to ruin the surprise."

He chuckled. "And I suppose the topic of our meeting is best held a surprise, too? Until we're all here?"

I touched my glass to his. "You know it is. If we'd have wanted to give that away, we'd have told you already."

"We? How many on board?"

"Well, you're here, of course. Then there's the captain and the cook. So three, all together, in addition to me."

His eyes did flash surprise at that, although he quickly reined it in. "That's a small crew for a ship this size."

I gave a mild shrug. "The ship has the latest technology, as you saw. The captain is reasonably good with mechanical things. Also, the issues we'll be discussing are fairly sensitive. At least for now, the fewer people involved, the better it is for everyone. If we have to bring in more people later on, we can discuss that as a group."

"Later on. You mean after this first week passes."

I nodded. "We have seven days. Seven days to evaluate the situation and to confer about what we'll do. By the end of the seven days some might choose to leave us. Others will decide to stay. It'll be after that splitting point that the core group will make their plans to move forward."

"Move forward with...?"

I chuckled and took another drink of my Champagne. "Move forward with the issues we discuss over these seven days."

He nodded at me. "So you write books about meditation?"

My cheeks tinted as the focus twisted from the project to me. "Meditation, consciousness, and philosophy. They're all fairly intertwined. You saw _The Matrix_? It regurgitated the philosophies of Rene Descartes. It provided the masses with an easier-to-understand version of those complex concepts."

His gaze twinkled. " _Cogito ergo sum_."

"Yes, I think, therefore I am. The one truth we can be fairly sure of is that our own brain thinks. But anything from our senses? Those signals could be manipulated. Faulty. Think of all those people with color-blindness who think the world they see is the way everyone else sees it. Or those with hearing issues."

He took a drink. "Or think of all the things we cannot sense, because of the limitations of our bodies. We can't see in infrared. We can't hear low-pitched sounds. To us, those things are invisible. Unknowable."

I leaned forward. "Exactly! So what I talk about in my first book is what else we might be missing out on. We've finally figured out how birds sense the subtle pulse of magnetic fields. Sharks have cells which can detect even faint electrical fields. Who's to say that we humans..."

Time flew by. He was a talented journalist, one of the best on the planet, and it was only because I was attentively aware of his probes that I was able to dodge one, then another, then more of his attempts to draw hints out of me. But I enjoyed every moment of it. He was intelligent, witty, and his thoughts on life could engage me for long hours.

If only –

The elevator whirred, and I looked around in surprise. Sarah wasn't supposed to arrive until –

I glanced at my watch. Two hours had passed. I'd have said it was two minutes.

I apologetically smiled at Jason. "I'm sorry, I need to help Sarah get settled. I'll come back out, once she's set, in case you want to continue our conversation."

He leaned back against the sofa. "I'll be right here, Phuong."

My heart warmed, and with effort I turned away.

Sarah stepped out.

She was slim, in her late twenties, with a blonde ponytail, wearing a white cotton shirt and jeans. We'd asked everyone to dress comfortably and casual. After all, we were going to be cooped up on the submarine for a week solid, and most of our time would be spent sitting in chairs. We might as well relax.

I put my hand forward. "Sarah. It's a real pleasure to meet you. I'm Phuong Nguyen."

Her cheeks tinged. "I'm here representing Mary Carroway. Your emails had said that was all right."

"It's perfectly all right," I assured her. "Come, follow me. I'll show you to your room."

Jason was by my side, holding a fresh flute of Champagne. "Phuong, here's the Champagne for Sarah."

I blushed deeply. I was already losing track of my routine. "Of course. Thank you, Jason."

Sarah turned and her eyes opened wide. "Jason? Jason Watanabe? The journalist who broke the Paxton story?"

His grin widened. "I got the credit, but there was a team of us working on that for months. Still, it did the job. Brought down a corrupt official who never should have been in power in the first place."

A twinge of jealousy coursed through me, and I wrangled it in. As far as Jason knew, I was just a random stranger he'd just met on a submarine. I brought on a smile and waved a hand. "Jason, I'd like you to meet –"

He put out his hand to Sarah. "Sarah Barklay, of course. Only one of the finest minds in the sphere of political relationships. That paper you wrote on democracy challenges in the Southern states was stunning."

Her blush now reached her brow. "Wow, thank you. That means a lot, coming from you."

He stepped back. "I imagine you've had a long set of flights from DC. I'll let you unwind. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to talk over these next seven days."

I turned and guided Sarah down the hallway. With every ounce of my being I worked to breathe evenly.

Jason wasn't mine. He'd never been mine. And there was so, so much more at stake than my silly crush. I had to be grateful for what we had shared in the past. And I had to let it go. For what was to come – there was no other way to describe it.

It would change our entire world.

My smile to Sarah was full and honest. "Here is your room. Put your palm on this steel plate to the right of the door."

* * *

The elevator whirred, the attendees arrived, Champagne was handed out, and the submarine billowed into life. For these past few weeks it had just been me and my team, but now the wheels were in motion. The people who had once been theoretical 'dream guests' on our lists were actually here in person. All of our planning and crafting and agonizing over the exact perfect word choice had paid off.

The group was assembled.

And, to my surprise, even as luminaries arrived from around the globe, even as the occasional yawn slipped from his lips, Jason stayed to talk with me. Maybe the journalist inside him couldn't pass up the opportunity to question the one person who might know more about the week ahead. Maybe it was something more than that. But while others remained in their rooms to sleep, or shower, or came out to cluster in ever-growing groups, Jason was always there by my side, asking more questions about my book or divulging fascinating stories about his latest adventures.

There was a motion by the dining room door. At the same moment, a gentle chime sounded throughout the ship.

Anastasia stood there. She was just about five-five, swarthy, with dark hair in a short bob. She said, in that wonderfully Russian-tinged bass voice of hers, "Dinner is served."

Jason, for once, was caught speechless. Then he turned to me with round eyes. " _Anastasia_ is your cook?"

I gave a small shrug. "She does enjoy cooking, after all."

We went in to the room. There was one long table with chairs for fifteen – six down one side, seven down the other, and the two ends. A buffet was set up on the far wall, and the delicious aromas set my mouth watering. Anastasia was amazing. But what made her even more amazing was that this was the least of her talents.

Roger took one of Anastasia's hands in both of his own as he passed her. "Your article on the underground slavery in Amsterdam was absolutely stunning. Thank you for writing that."

Sarah was right behind him. "And that research you did on young teen brides in Arkansas and Mississippi? Lives were saved because of you."

Anastasia waved them on. "Go, go, the food will get cold. We can talk about all of this later on."

The group poured in, plates were filled, and I found a seat at the center of one side of the table. Sarah quickly took a seat to my left, and before I knew it Roger was on my right. Jason ended up on Sarah's other side. Anastasia waited until everyone had filled their plates before taking her own meal and joining us.

I stood, and the room quieted.

"I just wanted to offer, again, a welcome to everyone here. I realize each of you took a calculated risk. You had to rearrange your schedules on short notice for an event which was required to be kept secret. You weren't allowed to share information about this with family or friends. For all you knew, you were about to be kidnapped for ransom – or worse."

Nervous titters sounded along the table from several of the guests.

I raised my glass into the air. "I want to congratulate you for your bravery, and to assure you that it will be well worth that courage. I know you're eager to find out what this is all about. We'll get started on the main event tomorrow morning at 10am. But for tonight, many of you have come a long way to be here, and I know there's the exhaustion of travel, time zone changes, and jet lag. Just relax, get some good food into you, and get some solid rest tonight. That way we can all tackle the issue tomorrow, together, with our combined energy and wisdom. I know, between the group of us, that we can figure this out. We can make the decisions which guide our planet into a new generation of health and happiness."

Glasses around me were lifted. Anastasia said, "To our future."

The room echoed. "To our future."

Glasses were clinked, laughter eased out, and we began.

There's just something about food. Any fears or tensions which might have lingered over the unorthodox manner of our gathering faded away as conversations built and grew. Maybe they figured that true kidnappers would have locked them into their rooms by now. Maybe they were reassured by the high quality of their company. Or maybe the fact that Anastasia, Geraldine, and I were so well known helped set their minds at ease. People went back for seconds, for thirds, for desserts, and I could almost see those tight shoulders release. I could see the concerned gazes relax into laughter and good conversation.

All except Sarah.

If anything, Sarah's slim shoulders grew even more hunched as the evening progressed. She kept twirling her loose ponytail around her fingers. If that continued, she might end up bald in a few days.

At last I stood, using my coffee spoon to gently clink against my wine glass. The room had gotten rowdy and it took a few tries to gather up the room into attentive silence again.

I looked out over the group. "You are all welcome to relax in the lounge, to make ample use of the bar and kitchen, and to watch or read whatever you wish in your rooms. Just remember that we start at 10am sharp in the morning, in the main theater. It's just across the lounge from us, through that pair of double doors.

I pointed through the dining area's open doors to the lounge, and fourteen pairs of eyes followed my finger with curiosity.

"But first," I said, drawing their attention back to me, "I wanted to put one lingering issue at rest."

Now their eyes showed bright interest.

Would I finally reveal a hint of why so many luminaries had been gathered together?

I waved a hand toward Sarah. "You all know Sarah Barklay."

Appreciative murmurs swept the table. But Sarah, if possible, hunched even further down into herself. Her cheeks were flame red.

I said, "I wanted to clear up a misconception. You see, Sarah thinks that she is here only by accident. Only because her boss, Mary Carroway, was too busy to attend."

Sarah apparently couldn't help herself. She piped up, "It's true! Mary got the invitation. But she's always double-booked or triple-booked. There's no way she could have cleared her schedule on such short notice. So she sent me to attend in her place."

I serenely nodded. "That's exactly why we sent the invitation to her."

Sarah stared at me blankly.

I made a rolling movement with my hand. "We didn't want Mary to come. We wanted _you_ to come."

There was a reason Sarah had graduated top of her class at Harvard. The realization clicked in her. "You knew if you asked me directly, that Mary would have raised Holy Hell."

Roger burst out laughing. "Mary, watching one of her minions get an offer that she, herself didn't get? She would have gone ballistic! She never would have let you go."

I smiled at him. "Exactly. We wanted Sarah here. But the only way to safely get Sarah to attend was to craft the right path. And that path had to go through Mary. It had to be alluring enough that Mary would feel it worth the time, but tedious enough so Mary wouldn't want to go in person."

Sarah's mouth went into an O shape. "You really did want me?"

I looked around the table. "How many of you feel Sarah would do a far better job than Mary as head of the Global Democracy Think Tank?"

Every single hand at the table went up without hesitation.

Sarah's eyes were tearing now. "Thank you."

I smiled at her. "So shake off all those concerns. You're here because you deserve to be here. Because we want you here. Because, for what we'll be discussing this week, we _need_ you here. We need your voice and your wisdom. Nobody else could take your place."

The room erupted into applause and cheers, and now Sarah was indeed crying. Jason gave her a warm hug.

Shadows crept in on me –

I shook them off. I said to the room, "And, with that, I'm going to retire to the lounge. Your time is wholly your own. Sleep. Rest. Watch a movie. Read a book. Enjoy time talking with your amazing fellow travelers. But do try to get some rest. Because, when we start up tomorrow morning at ten, the things we explore are going to be beyond anything you could have imagined. And the more little gray cells we have available to tackle the issue, the better chances we have at saving our planet."

There were more cheers, and applause, and then I moved to the buffet table. I gathered up the leftovers and stacked them into the fridge. Others came to join in the clean-up. We were less a formal seminar here and more a camp outing where everyone chipped in. The kitchen boasted high-end dishwashers and storage systems – the Sultan had spared no expense – so the work went quickly. In short order I was back out in the main lounge with a glass of port and a selection of hand-made chocolate truffles.

I popped one into my mouth.

_Ahhhh. Anastasia was an absolute genius_.

There was motion beside me.

Jason sat down, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "That seems to have gone well. What do you think?"

I knew he was fishing for information – and I didn't care. I'd seen how well the group members had meshed together over the evening. They came from all parts of the world, a wide range of countries and backgrounds, and yet they all found common ground. It was part of why we'd chosen this specific group of people.

It just might work.

I popped another truffle into my mouth. "I think I'm grateful everyone made it here without airplane delays or customs problems or the thousand other issues which can plague modern travel. It means our ship got safely into the depths. And it means, for the next seven days, at least, that we are in our own little world. One where we few –"

Jason winked at me. "We _happy_ few."

My breath left me.

I could forget, sometimes, in this unusual setting, just who he really was. After all, before me was Jason Watanabe the journalist. A man recognized by his byline. A man whose investigative talents had unearthed some of the best-hidden secrets of corrupt officials and tainted leaders.

But to me, to my innermost soul...

Jason asked, "Phuong?"

I shook myself back to the now. I brought on a casual smile. "We band of siblings, I think you were getting at. And, yes, we have a challenge ahead of us. One I'm sure we can face and overcome."

I poured myself some more port. "But that will all have to wait until tomorrow. For now, why don't you tell me more about that last assignment in Uganda. I'd love to hear exactly how you wrangled details out of the general's mistress."

As he fell comfortably into his story, I smiled. For now, I had distracted him. And if I could keep him engaged until it was time for bed, I'd have won the first round.

Until tomorrow...

# Chapter Three

I yawned again as I hurried down the hallway. It was nearly ten a.m. and I was barely about of the shower. Somehow Jason had kept me talking until long after four and then I hadn't been able to fall asleep. If anyone should be awake and chipper for this first full day, it should be me. And yet here I was...

I came into the lounge area.

Jason was standing there with a smile, holding two mugs of coffee. He held one out to me.

I looked around. "Where is everyone else?"

He nudged his head toward the open theater doors. "They've all taken their seats. Seems they're a bit eager to find out what this is all about."

I took the mug from him and had a sip.

Perfect.

I smiled and let the coffee wriggle its way down inside me with its warmth. "All right, then. I guess we get started."

We stepped in through the doors together. I waved my hand at the steel plate to the side and the doors eased closed behind us.

The theater was sized to hold the twenty plush chairs along with space out front for me to stand and walk around. All of the walls were ivory, curved, and smooth. The floor was flat but the ceiling held a curve to it.

As Jason had said, everyone had found their seats, although to my amusement they had left the front row free.

Some things never changed.

Jason winked at me and then moved to that front row, taking the center seat. I drank a long swallow of my coffee and then put my mug in the holder alongside his. I walked in front of the group.

"Welcome, everyone. In case you've forgotten, I'm Phuong. I hope you were able to get some sleep last night. You'll find, once we get started, that you won't want to waste time on sleep. I'm guessing you'll be so intrigued and excited that you'll push yourself to stay awake. I know it'll be challenging, but try your best to stay hydrated. Try to take breaks to eat, drink, and, yes, sleep. We'll all do much better if we keep our minds sharp and engaged."

Heads nodded, but I knew they'd be ignoring the advice soon enough.

I certainly had, when I first began down this road.

I waved a hand at the room around me. "Most of you have been in surround-view theaters before, so I'll recap the basics. Our human brains are rigged to detect certain input as representing motion. It might be that you feel a sense of vertigo or dizziness at some point. If you do, just close your eyes. Rest your hands on the arms of your chair. The sensation should pass. Remind yourself that you're just watching a scene. That you, yourself, are stationary."

More nods came.

"If you really start to feel ill, just call out for us to pause. I'll gladly wait for a moment. I know you might feel embarrassed, or ashamed, or not want to make the rest of us stop just for you. Really, speak up. We're going to be here for seven days. We could easily get exhausted at some point. Be kind to your bodies. Be aware of their limitations. We'll all have to take a breather. Eventually, some of us might fall asleep in our chairs. It's all right. We're humans and we accept our bodies have these quirks."

More nods, and a few smiles. I knew they would end up embracing this philosophy soon enough, out of sheer necessity.

I swept my arms to encompass the room. "All right, then. We'll do a demonstration for about fifteen minutes. Then we'll stop for questions. So let's get started. First, I'm going to bring down the house lights."

The lights in the room dimmed, slowly, surely, until it was nearly pitch black. Small lights gleamed from the edges of the chairs. A line of dots about waist-height circled the room, showing where the walls were. The exit doors behind us were similarly lined with dots.

"Take a look around. Note how the chairs are marked, and the walls. Note where the exit doors are."

I couldn't see the nods, but I could hear the murmurs of understanding.

"Now, I'm going to bring up the Earth."

A sphere eased into being, seeming to float in the space before us. It was about ten feet tall. Every detail was absolutely perfect, from the spiraling of clouds to the textured land masses below. It slowly, serenely, turned in its unending spin.

The room sucked in its breath in appreciation.

"You've seen the basics of how this operates, in your room displays. But with this theater being built on a larger scale, it has more capability. I'm going to bring up the rest of the stars now. I've muted the sun, so we don't go blind, but everything else is as it would be seen from our point in space.

A swell, and the rest of the stars, planets, and objects shimmered into being.

I could see their faces reflected in the light, and I smiled at the wonder that shone as they looked around at constellations, at the moon, and a hundred other things. Kurt, his bald head gleaming in the moonlight, pointed a hand in excitement at a whirling satellite, and the others followed his gaze, filled with wonder.

This was the moment I loved. The moment where we could be kids again. Where we could find amazement in the simple beauty of the world around us.

When they'd quieted down, I said, "All right, we're going to move in toward the Earth now. I'll go slowly. Remember, it's just a theater. You are stationary in your chair. If you feel queasy, close your eyes. If it doesn't help, ask me to pause. We can pause at any time."

The head nods were more attentive this time.

We eased into motion.

Several of the attendees leaned forward, as if staring along our path. I took us in straight, first, easing into the troposphere – the highest layer above clouds or even auroras. There were a number of satellites circling at this level, and my fellow passengers pointed them out as we descended.

Down, down, and as we reached the Mesosphere, at about 125 miles up, we encountered the highest level of clouds. I gentle began to angle us on a western-headed trajectory, so we no longer felt as if we were heading straight for the earth's surface. It was as if we were a plane slowly but surely descending.

Lower... lower... 100 miles... 75 miles... we were in the stratosphere, mingling with clouds. We were still over ten times the height that planes flew at. And we continued.

50 miles. 25 miles. Now the locations were becoming more distinguishable, and people were pointing and commenting as the details grew into even better focus. We were circling ever to the west, and we left the forests of Russia to move over Poland. Germany. Lower and lower, the cities resolved into buildings and bridges and those myriad of details which represented humanity's influence on our planet.

Lower. Slower.

We crossed the English channel at Dover. We followed the A2 up to Canterbury, admiring the Cathedral there, and then on up to the magnificence of London. Fingers were pointed in a variety of directions now, from the Palace of Westminster to the Tower Bridge and more.

Yakira spoke up. She was in her sixties, and her Indian accent was rich and melodious. "Hey, the London Eye is missing. It should be right there, on the Thames."

I explained, "This scene is from 1965. The London Eye wasn't built until 2000."

We were low enough that cars were starting to resolve, and, indeed, one could see that the vehicles were of that vintage. We followed the highways on out of the city.

And then it was the M1 north, slowing, as we eased into the outskirts –

Yakira called out, "Wait, that's St. Albans! That's where I grew up!"

Indeed, we were going just about car-speed now, and we followed the roads up to Verulamium Park, once the location of Roman fortifications. Now it was the site of a May Day festivity, complete with a May Pole, tents, and crowds of spectators and joyful dancers.

Our view lowered, settled, until we were on ground level, with the dancers there before us. Each dancer held a ribbon in one hand, the far end of it stretching to the top of that May Pole. The dancers wove and skipped, turned and smiled.

One of them, about eight years old, had golden skin and long, raven hair.

Yakira stood in surprise. "Wait! That's me! That's the dress my mother made for me!"

She stepped over Roger to get out of her row; she carefully came over to stand alongside me. She stared in shock at the representation of herself.

She pointed. "That girl next to me. That's Priscilla! With the freckles! And there's the stain on her dress where she dropped her lemonade!"

She turned, searching, and her face lit up in unadulterated delight. "Mum! Dad!"

She looked as if she'd run to them.

I grabbed her arm to hold her back. "Walls," I reminded her. "There's walls there. Stand still."

I could feel her quivering with excitement, but she did as I asked. I stepped closer to her and said, "We're going to move. It's going to feel weird with you standing. Hang on to me."

She barely noticed me, but she nodded.

I carefully eased the scene forward. She wobbled, but I held her steady. We moved across the short open space to where the ring of spectators began.

It was clear who Yakira was interested in. She was staring at them in single-minded focus.

I brought them just to the distance of the wall. Then I stopped the motion.

I released Yakira.

She shakily took a step forward, then two. She moved slowly to the wall, her gaze always on the eyes of the two people.

The mum was dressed in a sunshine-yellow straight dress which fell to the knee. Mum's jet-black hair was held back by a matching yellow hairband. The man had dark blue slacks and a white button-down shirt. Mum had her hand tucked around his arm, and both were beaming with pride.

Yakira's eyes were tearing now. "Mum! Dad!"

She reached out to touch her mother's shoulder. Her hand slid along the wall where the image was shown.

I said, "Pause."

The scene stilled.

Yakira's voice quivered. "It's amazing. Absolutely amazing. This is exactly what it was like on May Day in 1965. Down to every detail. I remember Mum's dress. I remember that tear in the cuff that she mended. I remember Dad's watch. That scratch in its face."

She turned to me. "Even if you had pictures of the day, and some movie footage, how could you stitch it together like this so seamlessly? How could you get every detail from the entire Earth's sphere down to the sunflower earrings she's wearing? It can't be done. It's not possible."

Jason murmured, "Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth."

Sarah spoke up. "What. So you're telling me we have a time machine?"

I shook my head. "No. We can't go back in time. We can't impact time in any way."

Jason said, "But it seems we can _view_ events in the past."

"Any date before 1966," I agreed. "Anywhere within the radius of our solar system."

The room fell into shocked silence.

"Thirty seconds," I said. "Let's take thirty seconds of silent contemplation. Some people here need that. Then I'll take a question each, in turn, so each person gets a chance to speak and be heard."

A timer appeared in glowing teal digits just to the right of Yakira's parents. It began slowly counting down.

I could almost hear the minds whirring. The hamster wheels spinning furiously.

A time viewer? What could we see with it? Dinosaurs? Cleopatra and Caesar? How the Pyramids were made? She said anywhere in the solar system. We could see within the clouds of Venus! The moons of Saturn!

But anything up until 1966? We could find out what happened to Amelia Earhart. Who shot Kennedy. Where the lost Nazi treasures were hidden away. The Amber Room from Russia. The Nazi gold train in Walbrzych.

Wait, if we could use this technology to find hidden gold and treasure, how many others would want to do the same? And what of other things hidden away? What if families built their fortune on corrupt arrangements? What if entire countries rose to power that way? What might those rulers do, to stop the truth from coming out?

The timer clicked to zero and vanished.

I turned to Yakira. "Why don't you sit down again."

She put her hand to the wall one last time, and then she moved over to regain her seat.

I turned to Jason. "Well, you're in front. What would you like to say or ask?"

"How will we make this public? This kind of information will shatter governments. It could destroy religions."

I nodded. "That is exactly why we brought in this specific group of people. The power of these scenes cannot be overestimated. Here is our starting plan. In a week, some of you might choose to go home. Others will choose to remain with us to oversee this project. Once the departing passengers are safely home, we will begin posting the videos to a secure server. We have the assistance of a hacker network who will ensure, for as long as possible, that the signals cannot be traced back to us."

A murmur went around the room.

I waved a hand at the scene around us. "We'll start with the more innocuous material. Things that few would find to be contentious. Scenes of triceratops and ankylosaurs. Of Bach's Requiem's premier performance. Stonehenge being built. Shakespeare's Hamlet live at the Globe Theater. Monet painting his water lilies. Traditional dances in pre-colonization Kenya. Things that the world would find fascinating, but which will not agitate large groups of people."

Nods began coming.

"Once we get over ten million views, which should happen fairly quickly, then we enter stage two. We'll have established our presence and our reputation. Now we send directed links to local police stations. We give them twenty-four hours to prepare cordons and protections for locations. That's when we start releasing our proof videos. Videos which show where the two princes' bodies can be found. Where Attila's grave is. Where Amelia Earhart is. Where Beauregard's Confederate gold is stashed. Those will establish the accuracy of our system. The tangible evidence that these videos we show are trustworthy."

Jason's eyes held mine. "And then we start with the more serious content."

I gave a small smile. "The life of Jesus Christ. The life of Mohammed. Gautama Buddha. Brigham Young."

He leaned forward. "Yes, historic scenes will open eyes. But I was thinking about videos involving the still-living. Think of the Korean War. The early days of the Vietnam War. People committed heinous crimes and were never caught. Now they can be brought to justice."

I nodded.

My gaze moved to the first person in the next row. Roger.

His hand went to the cross at his chest. "I have studied religion for my entire life. I will accept whatever is shown to be true. But there are those who will reach a crisis of faith. Especially those who are already struggling with the corruption endemic to many established religious institutions."

Anastasia snapped, "Well, maybe they should have done something to address that corruption, rather than continuing to support a decaying organization which has proven itself incapable of self-correcting."

I put my hands up. "We will discuss, as a group, which order to release items in. But part of the beauty of the system is that we can put a batch of items online all at once. I've already recorded the full life details of each major religion's leaders. We can put all of them online at once. That way we won't be singling out just Jesus or Moses or –"

Roger's eyes shone. "You have videos of Moses?"

I nodded. "He was an actual historical figure."

Penjami eagerly leaned forward, her dreadlocks swaying. "And the Library at Alexandria? Do you have video of that? Of people reading their texts, so we can read over their shoulders? Like Aristotle's lost works?"

Now everyone was talking at once, and I raised my hands to regain silence. "Let's let each person talk. One at a time. We'll get to everything."

Yakira asked, "How do we choose what to watch?"

"Well, first, your tablet will show you the full library of everything I've already recorded. I tried to get to what I thought was important. But my view is just my own, and that's why we have you all here. You will have different takes on what should be explored. So we're going to go in half-hour cycles. Each person, in turn, gets a half hour of time to view anything they wish. Then there's a ten minute break, then the next person goes. We do that every day from 10am to 10pm. There's no official lunch break or dinner break. You can eat in here if you wish. If someone is watching something you care little about, like how the interior of the sun works, then you can use that time to have a leisurely dinner or to watch the Sermon on the Mount in your room, or to coordinate plans with like-minded people here to watch all two-and-a-half hours of Aida's premier performance in half-hour chunks."

The murmurs were starting up again, and I waved them down. "Next. Sarah."

She glanced around. "Jason's right. Once we start releasing these videos, most people will be thrilled and enraptured. They'll be begging us to release more videos on topics they care about. But a portion of people? They will be absolutely determined to shut us down. To prevent us from showing the proof of atrocities they committed."

Yakira nodded. "And then there's the operatives. The CIA. The KGB. Mossad. They would do anything in their power to get their hands on this technology. To use it for their own nefarious purposes."

Sarah asked, "Just how safe are we?"

All eyes turned to me.

I smiled reassuringly. "Let me first address the people who choose to leave after these first seven days. We need to keep those people safe. So I will not reveal any details which might make them targets. I won't discuss how this technology works or where it came from. I won't talk about limitations or benefits. I won't talk about this ship we're on. We will make clear in our broadcasts, once those people are back home, that they know nothing more than what we put on our website. That way there is no reason for them to be harassed."

I gave a small smile. "I'm sure any who leave will be interviewed at length by every reporter and agent out there. Countless people will be curious about what they experienced on this ship. Still, we'll mitigate that in every way we can. We'll post photos of the rooms. We'll write up descriptions of our daily schedule. Heck, we'll post menus of what we ate. It will be more productive for the curious to go through our website than to hound the handful of people who attended."

Sarah asked, "What about the people who do choose to stay?"

I fondly put a hand on the wall of the ship. "The spies will track down, eventually, this ship's origins. They'll get a sense of its capabilities. But, even so, the ocean is large. It's over 361 million square kilometers. The Mariana Trench is almost seven miles deep. In comparison, Everest is only five and a half miles high."

Sarah's voice tremored. "We have to eat."

I nodded. "We have that all arranged. But, again, there are some things we can't yet talk about. Not until next Sunday. So each person will have to decide for themselves, over the next seven days, what their comfort level is. How important they feel this project is. You can talk to any of us in private at any time. But know that there are topics we simply will not address. It's for your own safety and for those of your fellow guests."

I turned to Kurt. "Your question?"

Kurt was an astrophysicist; he was one of the attendees who received a simple, straight-to-the-point email.

He'd immediately clicked 'yes'.

He asked, "What's the order of viewing? When can we get started?"

I clicked a button on my tablet; the schedule came up on the main screen. I said, "Here's the order. It's also on each attendee's tablet. We encourage people to enter their chosen topic of interest into the schedule, so others can decide whether they want to come watch or whether they'd choose to do something else with that time block."

I gave a small smile. "Sometimes we'll share interests. Sometimes a person will have an individual interest. That is exactly why we have this mix of attendees. We want to address a wide range of topics. Every person can watch whatever they wish. No judgment, no restrictions. We each get our turn."

Alex was a cultural historian from Russia. He pointed out, "Videos from Sumerian and Babylonian times will contain ancient languages. It could take months if not years for translators to work through them."

I nodded to him. "Our existing library of videos has already been through AI interpreters and have translations in English. If we add on other videos in those same languages, the AI should be able to translate on the fly and provide English overlays, both for us here and for the at-home watchers once we load them up. If someone here chooses to watch something more obscure, like the interactions of a remote tribe in South America in 1295, then there will be no translation. Researchers around the globe will have to tackle that task."

I pointed at drawers built into the side wall. "Our videos will play with native language and sound. If you want to hear the English translation, noise-cancelling headphones are in those drawers."

I turned to Kizimo. She was a city planning expert from Kyoto. "Your question?"

She shook her head. "I just want to get started."

Apparently eagerness had overtaken the room, because each remaining person also waved off my offer. I imagine they all felt they now had the basics down. They could hammer me for details once they'd had their turn to give this a try.

I turned to Kurt. "All right, then, random selection has given you the first shot at this. You can watch whatever you wish. Everyone else, if you're not interested in his topic, your rooms have the full library of recordings available. The Battle at Thermopolis. Leonardo da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa. A tour through the Babylonian Hanging Gardens."

Kurt nodded. "You said anywhere in our solar system? At any time in the past, before 1966?"

"Exactly."

His eyes lit up, and he leaned forward. "Then I'd like to start with Mars, about 3.9 billion years ago. I want to see what the atmosphere was like then. If it really did have seas of water."

"Mars it is," I agreed. I picked up my tablet and typed. Kurt's schedule entry filled in with the word "Mars". I said to the room, "Remember, Kurt can change his mind during his time period. He might decide to go look at Saturn's rings, or the Moon's interior to see what that mysterious chunk of metal is all about. If we change topics, we'll update the schedule."

Roger's hand went to his cross. He nodded to Kurt. "Enjoy your planets. I know what I need to watch." He stood and left the room.

In short order another seven people had followed him.

I waited until the doors had shut again before easing the room back into darkness.

A pause, and then I began.

* * *

The cycles had come and gone. People had sat, transfixed, and then left, eager to delve into the video library. In the breaks I had to remind people present to get something to drink. To eat something. To at least stand and stretch.

They were mesmerized.

There were some schedules which drew nearly the entire group back together. Mozart's Magic Flute performance was one of these. Other schedules only drew two or three curious watchers in addition to the primary person. Sometimes people drifted in and out.

But Jason was always there, in the front row, taking in every last detail.

At last ten p.m. rolled around and Sarah wiped at her eyes. She nodded to us and headed out. We'd just finished watching an abolitionist's journey to rescue a group of slaves. The room's walls were paused on the group resting, safe at last, in a church near Boston.

I turned to Jason. We were now the only two people in the room. "I'm surprised you didn't take a break somewhere during the afternoon to review the video library on your own. Some of these selections our team chose were fairly esoteric. I mean, seeing Troy and Petra in their active years was fascinating. But Penjami's exploration of prehistoric sea-life down in the depths of the ocean was far more... subtle."

He smiled. "We are shepherding a breakthrough the likes our civilization has never seen before – and probably never will again. I'm a journalist. There will be enough other researchers to pick out every last detail of the surfaces of the moons of Jupiter. To agonize over every individual note played in Mozart's works."

His gaze went to the rows of seats. "But me? I'm interested in this process here. In how each person makes their decision. What specific thirty minutes is worthy of viewing and recording for our planet's nearly eight billion people? How will those thirty minutes impact our lives, both immediately and in the distant future? Will understanding more about why people stayed in Pompeii, even though it was clear the volcano was becoming active, help us shake people out of their complacency about the Earth's climate change?"

I nodded. "I'm very glad to have more people involved in this process. Anastasia, Geraldine, and I did the best we could until now, but the issues are momentous. It helps to have more viewpoints involved in the process."

"So how do you think today went?"

I gave a small smile. "Some choices were wholly expected – and others were completely unexpected."

He chuckled. "People are like that."

A yawn escaped from me. Reluctantly, I admitted, "I didn't sleep well last night. I'm afraid I'm exhausted. I'd better turn in, if I'm going to be up in time for tomorrow."

I stood, and he stood with me. He nodded his head. "Until tomorrow morning?"

For some strange reason the thought sent warmth through me. Clearly I was suffering from sleep deprivation.

"I'll see you then."

I turned and left the theater, heading to my room. But for some reason, despite everything that had gone on today, despite the enormity of the project which loomed before us all, it was Jason's gaze which hung before me.

Which filled me with comfort.

# Chapter Four

I yawned as I walked down the hallway toward the lounge. I'd actually gotten some sleep last night – but it still didn't feel like enough. Hopefully the morning sessions would be quiet and peaceful. I'd be happy to enjoy watching a gentle group of sauropods foraging along a quiet river.

Jason was in the lounge talking in low conversation with Anastasia. Jason held two mugs of coffee in his hands. He handed me one as I approached.

Anastasia confided to Jason, "So that's why I think Roger and Devon are having issues. A priest and a rabbi. It's not easy absorbing the actual foundational truth of your religion in a mere twenty-four hours. To learn just what lay behind your sacred texts and tenets."

Jason nodded. I could almost see him scribbling notes in a virtual journal.

I took a long drink of my coffee.

It was absolutely perfect.

A long yawn escaped my lips.

Anastasia turned to me. "You look like hell, Phuong."

I chuckled and took another drink. "Jeez, thanks a lot, Annie."

Jason looked between us. "Phuong worked twelve straight hours yesterday. Can't someone give her a breather?"

I could feel those journalist tendrils of his extending. I said, "There's only three crew members here. We're all overworked; it's just the nature of our jobs. I can handle my twelve hours. All things considered, I have the easiest task."

Anastasia nodded. "Speaking of which, I have to get going. You guys have fun today." She vanished down a hallway.

Jason turned to me with an intrigued gaze. "All right, then. Day two. After you."

We walked into the theater.

The entire group was, indeed, waiting for us. I closed the doors behind us. Everyone seemed to be sitting in the exact same seats as yesterday. I'd read studies about how that happened. People got comfortable in their space.

Well, if there was one thing these videos showed us, it was that our world was full of unexpected moments.

I smiled at the group. "Good morning. I hope you all got at least some sleep last night."

There were some bleary-eyed murmurs. I had a sense that certain members of our group had gotten caught up binge-watching and hadn't slept a single wink.

I nodded to them. "You know you'll have to sleep at some point. If you end up falling asleep in here, we'll just let you be. It's why we advised people dressed in comfy clothes. The chairs are certainly comfortable enough."

There were a few chuckles.

I went on, "If you're in your room and fall asleep, a buzzer will sound for you when your scheduled time approaches. But you could end up sleeping through it. In that case, whoever is present in the theater will vote on a placeholder viewing. If you show up part-way through, you can have whatever time is left. But in general our screen time is so limited that we'll want to use every moment we can to watch _something_. Does this make sense?"

Again, more nods.

"Any questions for me, before we begin?"

Sarah raised a hand. "Say something's in the video library, but it's seen from a certain point of view. Like the Battle of Bull Run but it's primarily from the Eastern flank. Can we re-watch it from another angle, to get more information on what happened?"

"Absolutely," I agreed. "Your time is wholly your own. Anything within the time and distance parameters is up for grabs. You can go to any place within the radius of our solar system. You can go to any time before 1966. It doesn't matter if someone else has taken a run at that event. Your time is your time."

Roger said, "Some of these scenes are fairly violent. In Jesus' era, punishments could be brutally harsh. Will we have ratings of some sort on the videos, when they're posted in public? Maybe have teen-friendly versions with some of those sections removed?"

"On the first question, yes. Each video will automatically be rated as to its content, so watchers will know what to expect. There will be notes about violence, sexual content, swearing, and so on. But as to editing, no. We will not edit our content in any way. What we post in our website is the absolute pure original video. That way viewers know without a doubt that our content can be trusted."

I looked out over the group. "However, we will actively ask watchers to repost and recut our videos on other systems. It will be a backup plan in case our site goes down for some reason. I'm sure countless people will begin making youth-suitable versions, or annotated versions with research notes, or so on. As long as those original files are always available, people can go back to the source to see the original version. There is an accountability trail."

Heads nodded.

I looked around. "Anything else, before we get started?"

Silence.

I pulled up the schedule and showed it on the screen. "Here we go. The eighteen time slots for today. Roger, that means you're up first."

He eagerly leaned forward. "I thought about this all night. I'd like you to show..."

* * *

The hours ticked by, in half-hour segments followed by their ten-minute breaks. The seminar attendees had the routine down now. People were much more relaxed about coming and going. If they watched a video for five minutes and decided it just wasn't for them, they headed back to their room to catch up on their personal must-watch list. When I took advantage of the breaks to grab a drink or snack from the lounge, there were sometimes small clusters of people there, enthusiastically discussing the Council of Nicaea or Caesar's murder. It seemed from the conversations that viewing parties were forming, where groups of people gathered in someone's room to watch a specific scene and discuss it together.

Jason was at my side. "Everything going the way you'd hoped?"

I nodded. "We were careful in our passenger selections, not just to get a wide range of expertise, but also to find people of open-minded world views. We're going to be facing enough challenges as it is. We wanted the people to be capable of talking with each other and sharing divergent views on issues without emotional conflict."

"It seems we have all the major religions represented here. Catholicism, Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism, Protestant, Mormon, a few agnostics –"

"Pagan, too," I said. "It seemed important to have the main voices represented. We're going to be impacting billions of lives with these videos. We want to take that responsibility seriously."

We headed back into the theater. His gaze went to the wall before us. "Must be a challenge, sometimes, to go where the watcher wants you to go. I imagine you have your own thoughts about what would be interesting to see."

I chuckled. "You noticed that, did you? I'd never explored Persepolis, and Alex certainly knew his stuff. So he had a specific agenda in mind. But, yes, he would go right past a group of musicians when I desperately wanted to linger for a while and hear their music. We all have quite different interests. Which is good."

"You could always go back and listen after ten pm, if you wanted. Once the main schedule is done for the day."

"I need to get my sleep cycle under control, first. It's more important that I'm here and fully present during the twelve hours that this group needs me. After all, we only have five more days, after today. Five more days to build out our library. And then, once a group chooses to go home, we start releasing videos to the world."

His brows raised. "Who do you think will go home?"

I'd been giving this a lot of thought, but I was certainly not going to feed his journalistic process. "I think people will be changing their minds back and forth over the coming days. Going home will be reasonably safe. They can go on with their research. Their chosen life. But staying? We don't know how long our situation will be tenable. It could be five months. It could be one month. It's all about how determined the intelligence agencies and hostile players are about shutting us up."

"Or taking control for themselves," pointed out Jason.

"That, too."

I glanced at the schedule. "And it seems that you're up now. You want to watch the then-president of South Korea, Syngman Rhee, as he plans incursions into North Korea."

"Exactly," agreed Jason. "History is written by the victors, after all. Common wisdom is that South Korea was an innocent victim of the cruel invasions of North Korean troops. But Rhee was a ruthless, corrupt president. The main reason he created this war with the North was to stuff his own coffers and to retain his hold on power. And our Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles, went right along with it."

Sarah and Alex came into the room together, followed by Kizimo, and they took their seats.

The main doors closed.

I nodded and took my place. "All right, then. Let's begin."

* * *

Neanderthals and Denisovans. A review of the polar ice cap changes from four billion years ago through 1965, in staggered time lapse. The siege of Constantinople. The storming of the Bastille. King John signing the Magna Carta. The different ages and characters blinked by. The watchers were more comfortable with the process now. Where before they'd sat back and watched a scene play out, now they were more like directors. They wanted to see things from different angles. Move around to hear side conversations. It kept me more engaged, to respond to their requests. It also was draining me at a faster rate.

At last ten p.m. rolled around, and I nodded to Yakira. Her field of interest was water rights and access. We'd spent the past half hour exploring the historic cycles of water usage in India and surrounding countries. What it showed us was pretty bleak. The current situation in India was without precedent. Thousands of people had already been forced to move due to the desperate drought. Soon those numbers could rise into the millions – and where would they all go?

She wearily ran a hand through her short, dark hair, streaked with gray. "Well, I knew what I'd find, but to see it in full color like this drives the message home. Our planet is in trouble. We need to do something about it soon, or we'll be facing a disaster the likes of which we've never seen before. Until now, we've thought of the 85 million people who perished during World War II as a staggering number."

Her face was somber. "But soon? That may be a drop in the bucket. What happens when India turns into an oven with barely any water to drink? We have over a billion people here. When the systems start to break down, and the dead bodies pile up with nobody to handle them, it will get bad. And it's not just here. It's Europe. America. We are barely able to handle the storms and droughts we face now – and it's going to get worse. Much worse."

"Hopefully we can make a difference," I murmured. "That's my goal, at least."

She glanced toward the door. "I understand the others' interests in the exciting adventures of our past. It was thrilling to find out where Raphael's _A Portrait of a Young Man_ was hidden away. And I know we have to provide content like that in order to prove to watchers that we're genuine."

Her lips pressed flat. "But we are destroying our planet. If our society descends into massive droughts and failed crops, will it really matter if we have one painting more or less in a museum? Maslow's hierarchy says we'll be focused on the basics. Food. Water. Shelter. And those things will be on shaky ground in the near future."

Jason gave a small smile. "People tend to live with their head in the sand. Look at Pompeii. The volcano was right there next to them. It was clear the volcano was active. Why did they stay? They said to themselves, _Oh, I'll be fine. My family has lived here for generations. That proves I'll be all right_." He shook his head. "And then they all died."

I pointed out, "Not all of them. The rich had boats and servants. They were able to flee to neighboring towns. But the poor? They didn't have boats of their own. Some hid in their cellars, hoping for the best. Others went down to shore and tried to hide in the structures there." I waved a hand. "We know how that worked out."

Yakira's gaze went to the screen. It showed a lake brimming full of water, back in 1965. I knew that this same lake in modern times was bone dry. She said, "Well, our children will curse us for our blindness. The rich will find ways to buy whatever water and food they need, for their walled fortresses in New Zealand. But the rest of us? There are dark times coming, and it seems the masses are determinedly ignoring the signs."

She turned and strode out of the room.

Jason turned to me. "Well, I could use a drink. Come join me?"

I knew I should get to sleep. That the morning would come around all too soon. But Jason's eyes were there before me, warm and alive. He wasn't just a computer simulation of a blue-skinned alien. He was real.

I nodded. "All right. Just one."

The lounge was quiet. Everyone was off in their rooms, reviewing footage from the French Revolution or the Australian coral reefs. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, and I nodded for him to make one for me.

He came over and sat alongside me on the couch, clinking his glass against mine. "To progress."

"To progress," I agreed.

I took a sip.

He said, "Phoenix."

I blushed.

He looked over. "That's what your name means, right? Phuong? And that's sort of what we're doing here. Our revelations will shake loose our culture's foundations. And then our society will rise up out of that, reformed, one video at a time."

I gave a small smile. "We've created thirty-six sessions now, curated by an eclectic collection of minds. Add that content to the existing library. We'll have a wealth of information for viewers to work through. We'll open countless doors. For example, I can't imagine there will still be restrictions against married priests, once everyone understands the mercenary reasons they were banned back in the Middle Ages."

"There'll also be growing pains," pointed out Jason. "Churches can have corruption in them, and leaders taking advantage – but they can also support good works. Think of the orphanages which are tended to by churches. I would hope those vulnerable children will not suffer as this rearrangement takes place."

I nodded in agreement. My thoughts went back to my mother, Hanh. When she'd been born in 1966, she'd been abandoned on the doorsteps of a church with only a Marine Corp patch tucked into the swaddling. Maybe my grandmother hadn't been able to face the prospect of raising an American bastard on her own. Maybe her family had forced her to give up her daughter.

We'd never known.

My mother grew up in that orphanage determined to uncover the truth... determined to track down her absent mother... her US Marine father...

Jason's voice shook me out of my musings. "Was it hard for you, taking this step? Getting onto this ship, knowing that you might never step off again?"

I'd heard countless versions of this discussion over the past two days, as the reality of the situation had sunk in to the guests. We all were aware of how targeted we would become once the videos began distributing. This submarine would be one of the most sought-after objects on the planet. Those within might never be free again. We might engage in a game of cat-and-mouse until we finally were caught.

And after that... few happy outcomes seemed likely.

I shrugged. "Once I realized what we had to offer the world, there seemed no other real choice. I had to do it. And I knew I couldn't do it by myself."

"So you started with Anastasia and Geraldine."

I could feel him probing again, but it was hardly a secret that they were part of my team. "Yes. They were key for the logistics part of the operation. And then you twelve? You were critical for a different reason. To ensure the breadth and representation in the videos."

"We passengers still have the option of leaving," he pointed out. "After this seven-day trial. But you're in it until the end. Was that hard for you? Was there anyone you had to leave behind? A boyfriend? Girlfriend?"

He was right there in front of me. Right there. A man I had trusted for so long.

The words slipped out. "My husband died just about a year ago."

His eyes widened with shock. He was quiet for a long, long moment, clearly reining in spiraling thoughts. At last he said, "Wow, I'm so sorry, Phuong."

My fingers wrapped around the whiskey glass. "It was... well...unexpected. We'd known it could happen. The risks and all. But still. I guess it's like... like the head in the sand, like you said before. You always think it'll happen to someone else. Not to you."

I could remember that night so vividly. I'd been at home in upstate New York, working on another experiment with the electrode rig and meditation. I could lose myself in those sessions for days on end. Charles had been at his place in Los Angeles, throwing a party. Our separate lives had been a requirement of the arrangement. Nobody could know we were a couple. The risks would be too high, if our positions in the Hive had ever been found out. One of us could easily be used as leverage against the other.

I'd finally gone to bed about 3am. I knew Charles would be up for many long hours after that. We'd touch base in the morning. We always did.

But in the morning, his call hadn't come. I'd thought it odd. But sometimes he got distracted. Slept in late.

Then the burner phone had rung.

The man at the other end had been brief. The storage bin in North Dakota had caught fire. All contents burned. Nothing salvaged.

And I'd known. That had been the failsafe. Charlie wore a health app twenty-four-seven. The moment his heart had stopped, all records were automatically destroyed.

I had forced myself to log on.

It was on all the news stations. Of course it was.

Playboy billionaire Charles Leventis found dead in his gold-plated bedroom. Orgy. Opioid overdose.

I couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe...

Jason laid a hand against my arm. "Phuong."

I took a long drink. "Sorry. It's been a year. You'd think I'd be over it by now."

"Give yourself time," he quietly advised. "You don't get over things like this. You just find a way to live with the loss."

The words echoed.

A week after Charlie's death, Jason had requested a meet. He'd finally managed to hack into a military server in Uganda and wanted to pass me the data. But the moment I'd walked into the virtual cantina, he'd known something was wrong.

The news tumbled out of me. Leonardo, the man who had co-founded the Hive with me, had unexpectedly passed away.

Our leader. Our mentor.

We'd drowned ourselves in sorrow.

I found myself taking another long drink of my whiskey.

Jason asked, "What was he like?"

What was Charlie like?

I gave a wry smile.

In-game, Charles had presented himself as an older, wiser, experienced mentor. A Dumbledore to my Hermione. It was what had drawn me in to him. What had drawn Jason in to him, I had to believe.

The Leonardo character was measured. Calm. Deliberate in how he approached every task.

And brilliant. Oh so brilliant.

When he asked me to marry him, I hadn't thought twice. Could one even say no to a legend? It didn't matter to me if he was older than me. All that mattered was how committed we were to our cause.

Of course we would keep it a secret. It was critical.

So nobody knew. Not Jason, not the board, not anybody.

In that virtual cantina, Jason had thought I cried for a beloved mentor. For the man who set me on my course in life.

He hadn't realized I sobbed for my husband.

Jason asked, "Phuong?"

I looked up into Jason's gaze –

I dropped my eyes.

I couldn't tell him the truth about how he really knew me. Not yet.

We had the schedule all mapped out. In two more days Geraldine, Anastasia, and I would open the morning session by revealing our connections with the Hive. We felt it fair for the attendees to know about that aspect of the situation before making their stay-or-go decision. But everyone here was currently overwhelmed with the ramifications of the time viewing technology. We needed to give them at least one more full day of absorbing that before adding on yet more layers of complexity.

Jason's voice was tight. "Phuong –"

I shook my head. I knew better than to have mentioned my husband dying. Jason was a journalist. He could discern connections that few others could see.

I was tired and worn out. If I remained, I was likely to make more slips.

Dangerous ones.

I drank down the rest of my whiskey and stood. "I need to get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

He nodded his head. "I'll be here."

I knew he would be.

# Chapter Five

I walked with curiosity through Charles' mansion. I'd only been here a few times in our three years of marriage. We knew what the dangers were to be seen together. We were both founders of the Hive. If one of our enemies realized we were a couple, both of us would become targets for torture... or worse.

So we lived separate lives. We moved in separate worlds.

I was a neuro-researcher and novelist in upper-state New York.

Charles had been a college drop-out with a flair for making connections. His dating app hadn't been that much different than the hundreds of others flooding the market, but he wrangled his connections to make his app an integral part of the Superheroes Anonymous TV series. Suddenly his IPO was skyrocketing through the roof.

The decadent lifestyle followed.

The all-season swimming pool, just off the living room. The twenty-seat movie theater.

The bed built for ten.

I wandered down the parquet-floor hallway, past the Picasso. "Charles?"

"In here, darling."

I pushed open the bedroom door.

He was there, sprawled, in a pair of silver shorts. Five supermodels of all colors were curled up against him, sycophantic grins on their faces.

Cold shadows filled me.

Charles chuckled. "You know how it goes, sweetest. They seek him here. They seek him there. Those feds, they seek him everywhere."

My throat tightened. "Charles, you have to be careful."

"You're just jealous," he snapped. "I have to do it. Play the playboy. They'll never guess we're the same person. It keeps you safe. It keeps us safe."

One of the women – the Chinese one – drew something out of her silk embroidered purse. The tip shimmered silver.

I cried out, "Charles! Watch out!"

He grinned at me, and then the women descended... descended...

I woke in a cold sweat, my body drenched, my heart hammering against my ribs. I drew in long, slow breaths, forcing myself to regain calm.

Twelve months. Charles had died twelve long months ago. The police had ruled it an accidental overdose. There was not one iota of evidence saying foul play was involved.

But I suspected.

Charles took many risks, but his body's health was not one of them. He realized all too acutely that he had just this one body to see him through his entire journey. He'd been born prematurely and his parents had fought every day to keep him alive. Charles never forgot their stories of that touch-and-go-situation.

He never would have overdosed on opioids.

I blearily wiped at my eyes and swung my legs out of bed. I glanced at my tablet. 2 a.m. For some reason I was starving. Maybe if I got myself a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream I'd be able to get back to sleep. I'd be ready for the coming day's viewings.

I pulled on a t-shirt and sweats and padded out down the hallway.

I turned into the lounge –

I paused.

Jason sat there. He was in the exact place I'd left him, nearly four hours ago.

His glass sat before him, empty.

It was as if he hadn't moved.

He stared out into space.

I almost felt as if I should leave him there. Clearly something was consuming him.

But then I remembered how he had sat with me the long, long nights after Charles had been found. Jason hadn't realized Charles and I were married, of course, but he knew we were co-founders of the Hive. He knew we'd been close.

Jason had stayed by me during those long, dark nights. The ones when I felt my entire world was unraveling.

I wouldn't turn my back on him now.

I walked toward him. "Mind if I join you?"

He blinked as if startled out of a deep sleep. "Phuong?"

I went to the sideboard and snagged the whiskey bottle along with a fresh glass for me. I came over to sit alongside him. I poured first his glass, then mine.

He took his up and drank down half of it. He shook his head.

I said, "Lots to ponder."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I thought... well, I thought I had everything figured out. But then something comes at you sideways. Everything shifts."

"Life is like that. Backwards and sideways and diagonals. They don't teach you that in school. They teach you about straight lines and right angles. But life is corkscrews. Life is Mobius strips."

He drank another swallow.

I put my hand over his. "I'm here, Jason. To answer questions, or to just be."

His gaze was hollow, and he looked out into the distance. "I need to just be."

I nodded.

We sat, side by side, and we were.

# Chapter Six

Jason wasn't waiting for me in the lounge with my coffee, but Geraldine was there. Her lined, Teutonic face, as always, was steady and calm. Her body was sturdy and solid. In all the years I'd known her, I'd never seen her flustered or agitated. It was as if she had an internal compass made of titanium and she simply put one foot after another in that direction.

No questions. No concerns. Just forward.

She handed me my mug. "Everything's going exactly as it should, Phuong. You should be proud."

"We should all be proud," I said, smiling. "Besides, you're the one keeping us all safe."

She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. "This sub practically drives itself. Drag and drop a course and off it goes. We haven't had a single contact since we left the harbor. We could last months out here before we're found. Years, even."

I chuckled. "Years might be a little ambitious."

Her steady eyes held mine. "I'm in this until the end. You know that."

I nodded. "Thank you. I never could have done any of this without you. You've always been the foundation of the Hive. The rock that held the rest of us steady."

The slightest tinge of pink came to her cheeks. "I do my best."

"We all appreciate it," I assured her. "I'm glad you're here."

She nodded her head, then glanced at the clock on the wall. "Time to get started."

We headed in.

Everyone was in their seats, and Jason looked around as we came in. His gaze went from Geraldine to me in evaluation, but he said nothing. I put my mug in its holder and then addressed the group.

"Day Three. We've got Geraldine and Anastasia here. Let us know how you're feeling. What you're thinking. If you'd rather talk in private, you can send us a message on your tablet. We'll arrange a time."

Devon asked, "If we choose to stay on board, will we have some way to communicate with people back home? To let them know we're all right?"

"Of course. The same secure systems which will let us upload videos and information to our website will let you all do most typical internet activities. You'll be able to send email messages. Post on social media. The anonymizer will ensure signals can't be traced back to the sub."

Alex said, his voice wholly calm, "I'm assuming once we go live that we won't be able to leave the ship. We're here for the duration - for whatever time period the ship has remaining to it, before it is found and sunk."

There were no flashes of alarm. No gasps of surprise. The entire room had apparently come to this same conclusion.

I held his gaze. "This time viewer only works on the past; the future is unknowable. But it is fair to assume that, for certain powerful organizations and countries, shutting us down will be their top priority."

I waved a hand toward the walls. "That being said, this submarine has impressive capabilities. Like the HMS Artful, we are able to stay underwater for a full twenty-five years. We have ample food, water, air, and fuel."

Geraldine said, "We just have to remain hidden."

I nodded. "The oceans are vast. Impressively deep. But I can't guarantee that we will be able to dodge a concerted radar and satellite effort forever."

Alex pointed out, "They still haven't been able to find Flight 370, and that's been down over five years. And they only had a relatively small area of ocean they had to search."

I looked out at the group. "This will have to be a decision each of you makes. I don't want to underplay the amount of risk involved for us, once we begin broadcasting."

Geraldine said, "If we have to, we can always drop someone off at an uninhabited island in the middle of the night. Then, in a day or two, we can send the coordinates out to a nearby village. The person can be picked up with relatively little risk to the rest of us."

Alex gave a small shrug. "The reverse wouldn't be true, though. Once any of us comes off the ship, we'll be watched and tracked. There would be no way for us to get back on again without putting everyone in jeopardy."

The room went silent.

I let the silence dwell for a moment until I was sure nobody wished to add to that. "Are there any other questions? Any other concerns?"

Heads shook. Gazes were serious. It seemed the participants had come to terms with our situation.

They were ready to plow forward.

I looked up at the wall and pressed a button on my tablet. It displayed the schedule for the day. Every spot was fully filled in with a topic name. Our group was becoming a well-honed machine.

I gave a small smile. "Penjami. You're interested in trilobites in the Permian period. Let's get started."

* * *

It was the last segment of the day, 9:30pm, and I was bone-deep exhausted. It was more than just tired; it was as if the very neurons of my brain were fraying. Before this group had arrived on board I'd done several individual long sessions of time-viewing, but never like this. Never one after another, non-stop, for days on end.

I promised myself that I'd meditate when I got back to my room. I'd give my brain a chance to reset and to heal itself. But stopping wasn't an option. There was too much at stake. Everything was in motion now. We had to plow ahead for as long as we could.

For as long as we were still alive.

I looked around. Chanah was sitting in the second row, waiting for her turn to begin. Her light-brown hair was done in a single braid down her back. Her cyan t-shirt showcased one of her circular paintings of dancers and birds intertwined. She was an amazingly talented artist, renowned both in her native Israel as well as in the greater community.

I didn't have to look at the schedule to know what tonight's topic would be. She'd made her focus clear in previous sessions.

"What aspect of the Nazi regime will we be investigating this evening?"

"November, 1944. Auschwitz."

Tension wrapped within me, but I nodded. I knew it was important to document these portions of human history. We had to remember the depths of depravity, to ensure we never started down that road again. To ensure we never again thought of fellow human beings as disposable and unworthy of decent treatment.

Only Jason was in the room with us. The others had returned to their rooms to continue on with whatever topic areas had drawn their interest. I imagined Roger and Devon would be together extending their foray into the events of Moses' life. Yakira might even have joined them, if she hadn't gotten wrapped up in more research on water usage.

Jason's gaze moved to me. He'd been unnaturally quiet today, barely speaking at all. I wondered if it related to his mood of last night. Hopefully after Chanah was done I'd get a chance to talk with him, to get a sense of what was wrong.

He said, "You look tired, Phuong. Did you want me to get you a water? Maybe some coffee? Something stronger?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thanks." The truth was, my stomach felt wholly unsettled, as if something wasn't quite right within me. I didn't want to make it worse by ingesting something. I just had to last through this final half hour and I could be done for the day.

I turned to the screen and closed my eyes.

Auschwitz.

November, 1944.

I opened my eyes.

We were standing in front of the main wrought-iron gates of the complex. Above, in simple, clear letters, it said _arbeit macht frei_. Work sets you free. And in one twisted sense it had. When the train-loads of 'less desirable' people had arrived at these doors, a sorting had taken place. Those who had the strong backs for heavy labor were free from immediate danger. They were warehoused and fed. But the rest? The teachers, the secretaries, the elderly and young? They were taken to special chambers, supposedly to get showers.

And they were slaughtered.

Only a quarter of all arriving people made it through this culling.

My stomach turned.

Jason said, "Phuong?"

I waved a hand. "I'm fine. All right, Chanah. Where shall we go?"

Her tone was clinical. "There were many sub-camps involved in the Auschwitz system. The Nazis divided up their duties with ruthless efficiency." She motioned with a hand. "Over there is where most of the slaughters took place. In that other direction is where they warehoused those they deemed muscular enough. People they had a use for."

She pointed in a third direction. "I want to go over there."

My tension twisted tighter. The buildings she was pointing at looked like any others here. Brick. Square. Nondescript. But somehow a sense of foreboding oozed out of them. As if the very ground wanted to cry out.

We started in that direction.

She was focused on one particular building, so I eased over there.

She pointed. "All right. In that door. There should be an entry room, and then we want the second door on the right.

Indeed, the lobby looked much like any other waiting room on the planet. There were a few metal chairs against a wall. A low table held some magazines in German. A German soldier sat behind a desk, typing at a typewriter.

_Clickedy clack. Clickedy clack_.

A whirring noise came from the right. Like a drill of some sort. And a whining. A scrabbling.

My stomach wrenched.

I went in that direction.

We passed through a door.

This was a doctor's operating room. The doctor and several nurses were garbed with face masks, gloves, and long aprons. The patient, a boy of about ten, was strapped down to the bed. He was gagged. He was pulling hard against the restraints, to no avail. Another boy, so near in face to undoubtedly be his twin, was chained to the far wall, and he, too, pulled with every sinew in his body to get free. To run to his brother's side.

My vision blurred.

Doctor Josef Mengele. The Angel of Death. Notorious for his sadistic twin studies where he tortured, amputated, and killed twins to document his scientific research of the _lesser races_.

The scene skittered... faltered...

Jason was holding me.

I didn't remember how I got into this position, but I was curled up in his arms, shivering. He carried me over to a front row chair and sat, holding me close. He murmured something to Chanah, and she hurried out the door.

I turned my head –

He gently put a hand against my face. "Don't look."

I closed my eyes.

I breathed.

In. Out.

In. Out.

His arms were around me; his chest was sturdy against me.

The nausea receded.

A cold glass was pressed into my hand, and I sat back enough to take a long swallow of the whiskey. Out of the corner of my eye I saw –

I made a motion. The screen faded to ivory.

Chanah's face was creased with worry. "We can watch something else."

I shook my head. "No. I'll find a way through this. It's an important part of our society's history."

Jason's arms were still sturdily there. "Maybe Anastasia or Geraldine –"

I shook my head. "This is my task. It's my responsibility. I'll make it through."

Jason pointed to one of the wall drawers and asked Chanah, "Could you bring over one of those sets of headphones?"

She nodded.

He gently put me in the seat next to him. My trembling had eased; I took another drink. When he reached out his hand for my tablet, I gave it to him without question.

Chanah handed him the headphones. He plugged them into my tablet's jack. "Here. Play some gentle music. Maybe something classical. That might help."

"But how am I going to know what Chanah wants me to do to the scene?"

He pointed to the tablet. "She can message you. That way you can still do... whatever it is that you do to coordinate the scene."

It almost sounded like it could work.

I settled the headphones over my ears. I chose Bach's Cello Suite Number 1 in G Major.

The first notes started up.

The tension in my shoulders eased. My breath came deeply into my soul.

Chanah's message appeared in amber letters on my display. "Whenever you are ready."

I nodded.

I set the Auschwitz scene playing in the theater.

The cello sounded in my head, soothing me.

The amber letters said, "Slide to the right."

I glanced up.

Horror twisted through me, coursed through every vein, and I couldn't breathe, I couldn't –

Jason stabbed a button on my tablet.

The room's walls went ivory.

My eyes were streaming tears, and he held me against him without saying a word.

Long minutes passed.

Jason said, "Phuong –"

I shook my head. "I'm going to do this. I just... I just can't have my eyes open. And I can't listen to anything in the room."

Chanah's face creased with doubt. "But what does that leave?"

Jason said, "Chanah, you tell me what you need. I'll tap it in Morse code on her arm."

I said, "Is that really necessary? If she was typing requests to me before, maybe I could just have my tablet speak those words into my headphones rather than visually displaying the words on a screen."

"You find the music soothing, right?"

I nodded my head.

"If you were in a peaceful passage, and then all of a sudden it cut out so a computer-generated voice could recite instructions to you about Doctor Mengele's lab, wouldn't that cancel out the music's calming effect?"

"I suppose it would," I reluctantly agreed.

"If you're getting the request in an entirely different sense stream, it might be less intrusive. Something you can partition off in your mind."

I clenched my hands. "I guess it's worth a try. I'm sorry I'm so upset by all of this."

Jason's gaze held mine. "Don't be upset. It should be the natural human reaction to what went on in those camps. It's how we should feel when a fellow innocent person it abused or mistreated. It could be us. There, but for the grace of God."

He opened up his arms. "Come here."

I pulled the headphones tightly into place. I set Bach soaring.

I wrenched my eyes closed and pressed my face against Jason's chest for good measure.

Peace eased over me.

His fingers brushed along my arm.

_Whenever you are ready_.

I nodded.

I set the scene in motion.

It was all separate from me. Distant. Disconnected. It was something which had happened in the past and, with our firm determination, would never happen again. Bach lifted and turned. Jason's arms were solid.

His fingers brushed again.

Ease right two feet.

It was as if we were dancing. The motions were in relation to him and me. We were all that mattered. I remembered how he'd been there for me, those long nights after Charlie had died. How the time I spent talking with Jason helped to restore me enough to get through just one more day. One more day where I had to pretend that nothing much had happened. My public face could not show the smallest sign of dismay. There could be no link between Phuong the author and Ratridevi, a founding member of the Hive hacking community.

And even within the Hive, members only believed that Ratridevi looked up to Leonardo as a student respects an attentive mentor. Nothing more.

But it had in fact been more...

_Turn ninety degrees_.

I rotated the room with the grace of a ballerina.

In those depths of despair, Jason had been there for me. As he always had been.

Jason had originally joined the Hive only a short while after I'd founded it with Leonardo. He was one of our first members. Because it was so early on, Leonardo and I had the time to vet 'Oishi' to a level of detail rarely seen since.

Oishi's grandfather, Hiroyuki, had been a US citizen. He'd been born in the US, as had his parents. Even Hiroyuki's grandfather had first come to the US as a young child, after his father had established a home while working in a railroad yard.

Hiroyuki thought of himself as American through-and-through. Everything he'd ever known had been set in America.

But then World War II had happened.

It didn't matter that Hiroyuki was a well-respected journalist for a local paper. That he and his parents had all been born in the US and were citizens. The entire extended family was rounded up and shipped off to Tule Lake. The internment camp soon was stuffed with 120,000 souls – nearly all of them US citizens caught up in the racist hysteria.

No wonder Oishi had chosen his virtual name. The original Oishi Kuranosuke Yoshitaka had been the ringleader of the 47 ronin. The coordinator of the loyal soldiers who patiently worked to avenge the heinous death of their beloved leader.

Oishi's character online had mirrored his real-life activities. He was a talented conversationalist with a wide range of interests. He was steadfast and empathetic. He could make you feel as if you were the full center of his attention.

While Charles...

I sighed.

Charles invested immense effort to maintain his older professor personae. He seemed to take pleasure in being distant and aloof. In being not-quite-there. In always having something else occupying part of his thoughts.

It had worked well enough for how the Hive functioned. Charles would make time for us during the high-level planning meetings. His insight often helped us through a tricky challenge, thinking up unorthodox ways to tackle hurdles.

But when it came down to the actual hacking assaults, when emergencies threatened and we could barely breathe, it was not Charles who stood by us and blazed a path.

It was Oishi.

And then, when victory was at last ours, and the glasses were raised...

_Back a foot_.

I let myself get lost in the memories. The memories of strolling a lavender-sand beach, Oishi at my side, discussing Socrates and Plato. We'd find a quiet corner of a jazz bar, ostensibly to coordinate the upcoming infiltration of a dictator's personal computer, but somehow the talk would ease on to Coltrane and Gillespie.

I'd tried to do the same with Charlie. I'd invited him in for a visit to Pandora's sensory gardens or Jericho's drumming festivals. But he'd always been too busy for such ordinary activities. He was always wrapped up in one critical task or another. The spaces between our virtual visits grew wider. Our in-person hours could be counted on two hands.

And then he'd died.

Jason's fingers were on my arm. "We're done, Phuong. You can shut it down."

I reset the theater and then cautiously opened my eyes.

The walls were their emotionless ivory. The room looked like any other.

But behind that façade I could almost feel... I could almost see...

Chanah's gaze held concern. "I'm sorry I put you through that."

I shook my head. "It's my honor to help you bring this to light. There's a reason you were chosen. That every person here was chosen. You'll help our library be as comprehensive as possible. These are messages which need to be shared."

She nodded and stood. In a moment she had left the theater.

My gaze went back to the main front wall.

I could see... could see...

Jason said, "Bring up a remote mountain cabin on a lake. One in a heavy rain. Put us on the front porch."

I didn't think. I just did as he asked.

My shoulders eased as the rain cascaded down around us on all sides. It made bright plunking noises as it created endless ripples in the water. It filled our ears with its cleansing patter. The trees swayed and lifted, dipped and turned.

Jason murmured, "We humans are here and gone. We are the blink of an eye. Nature cleanses the world. The rain washes everything clean. We have a new chance to be better. To be stronger. To learn from past horrors and to grow beyond them."

I could almost believe it. The rain fell, and fell, and my breathing came more easily.

To think that mankind had once embraced such fear... such an abject lack of compassion...

I shook my head. "There are times I wish this time viewer _was_ able to change the past. We wouldn't even need to kill Hitler. Did you know Hitler's father was a bastard? Hitler's grandmother, Maria, was 42 and unmarried when she had her only child – a son. Maria refused to say who her lover was."

My gaze drew to the distant pines. "Let's say I go back to Maria's childhood in Austria. Maria was from a poor, rural family. All I need to do is take Maria under my wing. Take her to Vienna, bring her out into society, and get her noticed by a nice young clerk. They fall in love, get married, and raise a bevy of beautiful children."

The rain fell, ceaseless.

I murmured, "Maria never has that unexpected child at age 42, with whoever the man was. Hitler's father, Alois, is never born. There's never even a trace of Hitler or his legacy in our world."

Jason gave a small smile. "You know better than that. The butterfly effect. We might think that Hitler was the worst outcome possible. But maybe in some sense we were lucky. Maybe Hitler taking power was one of the better outcomes given the situation in Germany and Austria at the time. After all, we did beat him in the end."

I'd heard Chanah discussing this with Geraldine at dinner. "I guess if Hitler had kept after Britain, to finish them off, instead of turning his attention on the Soviet Union, things would have been far different. The Soviet Union was a peaceful neighbor at the time. Hitler could have pounded Britain into a submission from which they couldn't return. He could have controlled their airfields. Left the US with nowhere to launch from."

Jason waved a hand at the screen. "Also, let's assume this other hypothetical leader who rises in Hitler's absence, we'll call him Zephyr, didn't openly kill off the people thought of as undesirable. That Holocaust is what mobilized much of the rest of the world against Germany. But let's say instead that Zephyr just put the undesirables on work farms. Yes, countless people would have died from exhaustion or starvation. But somehow our world seems all right with that."

His gaze grew hollow. "During the enforced famine in Ukraine in 1932, nearly 10 million people died. In comparison, the Holocaust killed 'only' 6 million. If there had been no gas chambers, and it was simply a famine going on, the rest of the world might just have gone on with their business. What's a few million deaths to famine?"

I sighed. "You're right, of course. We think of our history as bad, but we have no way of knowing. And if we go back to the early 1800s, and change something there, then it would seem that almost infinite permutations could ripple out by now. Heck, the Hive Collective might never have even been formed."

I realized what I'd said.

I'd revealed the name of our hacking group.

Geraldine, Anastasia, and I had agreed not to discuss that aspect of this project until tomorrow. And while Jason was a nominally a member as well, all members in the group were anonymous. He wouldn't have figured out yet that us three submarine crew were in any way part of his hacker community.

I muttered, "I'm sorry. I know you're a journalist, but if you could please pretend you hadn't heard that, until the morning at least –"

He wearily held up a hand. "It's all right. You're exhausted. We're just talking." He gave a wry smile. "Besides, you've mentioned several times that we're behind helped by a hacker group. There aren't too many out there with this kind of reach. I'd already narrowed down the options."

I shook my head.

Of course he had.

His gaze grew serious. He looked as if he were making those mental notes again. He asked, "Tomorrow morning? That's when we're officially told?"

I sighed and nodded. "We'd planned on telling everyone more details about our hacker support on Day Four. You all need to be comfortable with our structure before you commit yourselves to remaining on this submarine."

I gave a wry smile. "We didn't want to dump everything on you at once. Hopefully by day four people will have wrapped their minds around the thought of a time viewer. We can start to address other more practical details."

Jason's voice became deceptively casual. "You keep calling it a time viewer. But you surely understand that there will still be people – both on the sub and off – who wonder if this time viewer can be used to somehow alter the time stream."

His journalistic tendrils were extending again. I shook my head. "It can't. Butterfly effect or no. There's no way to dip a finger in. To send back a message through beams of sunlight or teleportation jars or anything else. We can only view."

My stomach twisted, and I lowered my eyes. "Although you'd think we should be able to at least send a note back. Maybe not back to the 1800s, but just within our own past. Just to a younger version of ourselves."

I looked up at the scene of the falling rain on the lake. "When I watch these videos of historical scenes, I think about how sometimes it's the tiny choices that make a huge difference. It's not just Hitler presenting a key speech at the Circus Krone to give the Nazi party control. It's that choice his grandmother, Maria, made to sleep with a man. She's 42. Maybe the man was a stranger who came into town. She thought this was her one chance to do something wild. To feel appreciated. That one moment when she said 'yes' instead of 'no'. She had no idea how that would change her future. How it would change everyone's future."

I thought of Leonardo's elegantly designed study in-world. How the shelves had practically sagged under beautiful leather-bound books. He almost seemed to be Gandalf, with his knowledge and wisdom. I'd been in awe of him, when we first met. Wholly under his spell.

Jason murmured, "How long were you married?"

I didn't ask how he'd guessed at the direction of my thoughts. The man was a world-class journalist. "Three years, five months."

He blinked in surprise. "But that would have been –"

"July, just after the bombing in Rome. I know. Hardly seems like an appropriate time. But it was all so whirlwind. I didn't realize, at first, that he was interested in me romantically. There was the age difference, and I just looked up to him so much. But then, in June, suddenly he made it clear."

I ran a hand through my hair. "I was shocked. Honored. Amazed he would be interested in me, of all people."

Jason murmured, "Of all people."

I waved a hand. "So when he asked me on a date – a virtual date, of course, I said yes. How does one say no to a person like that? And then, it's as if I barely blinked. As if I barely drew breath before we were taking that next step."

Jason's voice was low. "Were you happy?"

My glass of whiskey was nearly empty in its holder. I lifted it up and drank down the last swallow. "I suppose I wasn't _un_ happy – at least most of the time. I'd known, due to our lives, that it would never be a conventional marriage. We couldn't live together. Be seen in public together. But I guess I'd thought, somehow, that we'd find a way. After all, he was him and I was me. Surely we'd figure it out."

I shook my head. "But I guess I didn't understand a lot of things. We barely saw each other in real life in the beginning. Over time it got worse. Even the virtual visits became less frequent. I reassured myself that he was a busy man. He was managing critical projects. In high demand. But I admit there were nights that I didn't care about any of that. I just wished he could be there for me. That... that I could feel as if I mattered."

"You do matter."

I laughed. "It's easily said. But when you're lying alone in your quiet house, and your husband is half-way around the globe, and he's busy –"

I cut myself off. The scene of Charlie sprawled in his love-nest, clothing from five other women strewn around the room, the drug paraphernalia in clear view, had somehow been leaked into social media.

The Twitterverse had joyfully launched a thousand vulgar memes.

I had sobbed, broken, alone.

Jason's voice was hoarse. "Phuong. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

I brushed at my eyes. "It's not as if it was your fault. I made that decision. I said that yes, and then that yes, and then that yes, without really stopping to think."

"But I could have –"

The theater door swung open.

Geraldine came striding down the aisle. "Phuong? Are you all right? I just had a talk with Chanah. We need to put a stop to that."

I wiped again at my eyes, standing. "It's all right, Geraldine. I appreciate your concern. But you know we decided –"

"That was before we knew how it would affect you. Go on, get to sleep. We can talk about it in the morning. You, me, and Anastasia."

Now that I was standing, I suddenly felt bone-weary. It was as if it took all of my strength to stay aloft. I nodded at her, and then Jason. "Maybe you're right. I'm exhausted. We can discuss it tomorrow."

Both of them said, simultaneously, "Good night."

I nodded to them and headed out. It was as if the sub were weaving beneath my feet, I was so tired. Clearly I had stretched myself beyond my limits. And we still had three more days to go, even in this first run.

I had to be better about pacing myself. If that meant fewer hours a day, or a better way of spacing the traumatic scenes, we could find that solution.

I was nearly at my bedroom door before I realized I'd left my tablet behind. Sighing, I turned and retraced my steps.

I could hear their voices as I reached the theater doors. Cautiously, I eased one open.

Geraldine's tone held a sharpness I'd never heard from her before. "Yes, she's amazing. That's why we all have to do our part to support her. She's trying to do too much. Look at all the time she's spent talking with you when she should be resting. Recovering her strength. She wants to be everything to everyone. She can't be. We have to be the ones to make the hard decisions. To step back. To make sure she cares for herself."

Jason nodded. "I know that you and Anastasia take wonderful care of her. It's evident in every interaction you three have with each other."

Her tone eased. "I do my best to be a good friend to her. Relationships are important to me. When I commit myself to someone, I'm there for them no matter what."

"You've proven that, by being on this sub. I have a sense that you'll be here until the end."

Her gaze held his. "And I know that you will not be one of those leaving the ship, when we reach the decision point on Sunday night. You will stay."

He stilled.

My heart stopped beating.

It was too soon to ask him. Too soon to pressure him. There were still four more days. What if he were on the fence? What if Geraldine's questioning pushed him away? Pushed him into concern and uncertainty?

If Jason left the submarine, and we were forever kept apart –

Jason nodded. His voice was low. "You are right. I will stay."

Geraldine chuckled. "Of course you will. There was never any question."

Jason cocked his head. "How could you be so sure?"

Geraldine's lips curved up into a smile. "We know the people on this ship. We had to, in order to ensure they were what we needed to move forward. Everyone we chose had a high likelihood of staying on past this testing period. But you? There was never any doubt in my mind. You would stand by us."

Relief coursed out of me in a whoosh.

Both heads turned. Geraldine snapped, "Phuong! You were supposed to be asleep by now!"

Jason glanced down and took up the tablet. "I imagine she's looking for this."

Geraldine grabbed it out of his hand and strode up to my side. "I've got your tablet. And now I'm getting you into bed, where you belong. Then, tomorrow, we're going to talk about new arrangements. Ones which don't drive you to death's door before we've even begun."

I barely was aware of her guiding me back to my room. Of her helping me into bed. And the moment my head touched the pillow, the world faded into darkness.

# Chapter Seven

I groaned as I blinked my eyes awake. I'd had countless twisting dreams, but only fragments remained as I sat up. I tried to grasp at them as I showered, dressed, and headed down the hall.

There'd been Leonardo in our virtual reality world, every detail of his study meticulously rendered. He had seemed so wise there, so mature and experienced and capable. Every other member of the Hive had treated him with respect and awe.

He'd chosen me.

I had somehow caught his notice.

Another fragment. It was the first time we'd met in person. It was in a small café on the outskirts of Rome. Off the tourist paths. He'd been so much younger than I'd expected. Still six years older than me, but I'd been expecting a larger gap. Somehow, it was just like our meetings in the virtual world. The staff clearly knew him and were deferential.

Leonardo, in his real-life version of Charlie, was calm and gracious. We all used speech modifiers in-world, to mask our voices, but the same cadence was there. The same attentive mind. If his face had lost its wrinkles and his muscles had gained tone, I could not complain. I had been worried about the opposite – that he would be far older. That my time with him would be callously short.

Another fragment.

The first time I'd seen him reported about on an entertainment news program.

When I realized who he really was.

When I realized what his normal lifestyle entailed.

Geraldine was there in front of me. "There you are. Anastasia's on the bridge. Come on. We have to talk."

I realized I'd reached the lounge. I'd come out early enough that most of the ship's population was present, eating crullers and sipping coffee. Pockets of intense conversation were at every side.

Jason was not to be seen.

Geraldine had my arm, and we walked the short distance to the bridge. A press of her hand, and we were through.

The submarine had been built for a wealthy sheik's leisure; the bridge was not a large space of the likes of _The Hunt for Red October_. It was more like the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon, but done with modern-day graphics.

The bank of screens around us showed a full 360-degree view of our surroundings. Overlays indicated distances to major locations. Consoles lower down around the edge provided various instrumentation. Four stools ringed a central table which showed our location on a map.

We were about a thousand miles east of Auckland, New Zealand.

Anastasia glanced at the map. "Still no contacts?"

Geraldine shrugged. "We know everyone's shipping routes. We can spot them long before they come close. It's practically child's play. Especially in a wasteland like the South Pacific Gyre."

"They aren't actually looking for us right now," pointed out Anastasia.

"True, but let's say the US launches all of its submarines in an attempt to find us. They have four classes. That's 68 total." She pointed at a world map on a far console. "68 submarines, and 320 million cubic square miles of ocean. The odds of us being able to dodge them? Pretty good."

She handed me a coffee.

I took a sip. "Odds are good, but not perfect."

She shrugged again. "Nothing is perfect. Heck, the Earth could be it by an asteroid next week and none of this could matter. One never knows."

I supposed she was right.

Her eyes gained focus. "All right, then. The topic at hand. We are now at day four. The day we agreed we'd let our passengers know about our senior positions in the Hive. Phuong, you will be revealed as one of the founders, along with Leonardo. Anastasia and I will discuss our roles in first wave of teammates."

I smiled at them both. "You were instrumental to our success. Just look at how we've grown. It's all due to both of you. Your diplomacy and talents."

Anastasia's face shadowed. "It was hard on all of us, when we lost Leonardo. But we have soldiered on. And now, with this project, we are doing more than in all our previous years combined."

Geraldine turned to me. "That's why it's so critical that we keep you healthy. It's your consciousness that makes this all happen. The interface you developed only works with your brain. You are our unique, once-in-a-lifetime keystone. We can't lose you."

My face reddened in a combination of embarrassment and guilt. "I know. I need to take better care of myself."

"That you do," she agreed. "Not just for your own sake – but for all of our sakes. These passengers are preparing to sacrifice their entire lives for this project. They will give up everything. They're at the top of their fields. Think of all the research which will be cut short. The knowledge. All to ensure that these videos release."

She waved a hand. "But what if you collapse in a day or two? Become unable to manage the videos going forward? What would their sacrifice be worth then, when we have barely begun?"

Tension coiled around my chest. "I know. You're right."

Anastasia leaned forward to put her hand over mine. "Geraldine and I have been discussing this. I know you enjoy talking with the passengers. You've had to live alone for all these years. But we're all making sacrifices here. You need to focus on your health. Play the videos – and then sleep. Meditate. Whatever it takes to restore you for the next day."

Geraldine's face grew solemn. "And as much as you want to make everyone happy, and play every video they request, there need to be limits. There's no reason to view the worst of the worst. We can make do with general knowledge."

Something inside me rebelled at that, at censoring history so that we didn't see where a lack of empathy could lead us. Still, I saw the glowing concern on my friends' faces. I nodded. If we put those scenes off for now, there was still plenty to keep us occupied for the next week or two. Plenty of critical videos we could share. Maybe over time, as I got more used to those scenes, I could approach them.

I didn't like how the idea made me feel. That I would numb myself to atrocity and cruelty. But I wasn't sure how else to handle the challenge.

Geraldine smiled at us both. "So we are agreed? I will lead this morning's meeting. We will reveal our positions in the Hive. The passengers deserve to know that information about us. And then I will also explain that we will be restricting any videos with a level of cruelty which disturbs you."

"For now," I felt compelled to say. "Just for now."

She nodded with approval. "For now. Exactly. We can always review the situation in the coming weeks."

Anastasia glanced at the clock. "All right, then. I think we're ready. Shall we?"

By the time we got to the theater, everyone was in place. Geraldine led the way down the aisle, followed by Anastasia, and I brought up the rear. I was still feeling unsure about this new path, but I trusted in my friends. And they were right. If I pushed myself past my limits, then everything we had worked for – everything all of us were sacrificing for – would be lost.

I needed to accept that.

Geraldine spoke to the group. "It is now Day Four. We've talked with you each individually and to many of you in groups. You know how valuable these videos are. I saw that the schedule was already pre-loaded with everyone's selections for the day. I imagine most of you have already mapped out which items to watch in the theater and what times would be better spent in library viewing or in discussion."

Nods went around the room.

"Good. Now that we have that base level of understanding, we're prepared to provide you with some more background information. You are all contemplating making a life-changing decision. To stay on this submarine with us and to go the distance on releasing the videos – however short or long a time period we have. You deserve to have as many details as we can provide, before you make that choice."

The room was engaged. Geraldine had their full attention.

She smiled and stood tall. "We have mentioned, in the past, how a hacker group is in place to help us manage the technical aspects of this project. These details may not matter to some of you, but to others they will be critical. So we want to make sure we present them."

Her eyes sparkled. "I am one of the key members of the Hive Collective. This is the group which is overseeing this project."

There were a few baffled stares, but for most of the group there were gasps and appreciative looks. The Hive had publicly taken credit for enough operations that our activities were fairly well known.

Geraldine nodded. "My name in the Hive Collective is Sigyn."

Now the split was more clear. For a portion of the room, the name clearly meant nothing. But for those who had apparently been aware of the Hive's activities, the look was much more reverential.

Jason had been intimately involved in many of the Hive's most complex operations. His gaze drew over Geraldine with appreciation.

Anastasia stepped forward. "I, too, am an officer in the Hive Collective. My name there is Devoina."

The murmurs swept the room again. Anastasia had been the key player in a sweep to take down a child pornography ring. Although generally the Hive strove to keep public actions attributed only to the group for safety reasons, somehow Devoina's name had become known. The outpouring of gratitude to her had been impressive.

All eyes turned to me.

My cheeks heated. It was time to reveal the truth. Not just to the passengers on the sub, but also to Anastasia and Geraldine. They'd said it themselves before. We all deserved to know the truth. Especially in what might be our final days.

I stepped forward. "You all know my legal name. Phuong Nguyen. I have studied neuroscience for many years, and researched meditation and states of consciousness for just as long. I've written a number of books on these topics."

There were nods all around.

I took a deep breath. "I am also one of the co-founders of the Hive Collective. In the group, I am known as Ratridevi."

Now the looks were more serious and full of respect. If any names were known from the Hive Collective, it was Ratridevi and Leonardo.

But I only cared about one face.

Jason's.

He held my gaze with quiet acceptance.

I blinked in surprise. "You knew? But how?"

He stood and turned to the fellow passengers. "Before I reply, let me share the news with the others that I am also of the Hive Collective. I assume I am the only other one here? I am known as Oishi."

The blinks and nods showed him that his assumption was confirmed. It was us four, out of the passenger group, who had come from the Hive.

He then turned to me. A wry smile lit his lips. "As to how I knew you were Ratridevi? How could I not know? We use virtual reality to mask our shape. To change our features. Geraldine presented herself as a blonde-braided farm-girl from Illinois. Anastasia was a delicate ballerina."

His gaze was fully on me. "But you? You were simply you."

My brow creased. "That's not true. I changed my hair color. My clothing."

He chuckled. "Your hair was turquoise. You wore long, flowing dresses. But you were authentically you. The way you stand – the way you move – it all shouts out your identity. And while the vocal maskers tweak the timbre and accents of our voices, the rhythms remain the same."

He shook his head. "I knew the moment I walked on board. But it seemed right to wait until you chose to reveal it. Until you felt the time was right."

I stared at him in shock.

I thought back to the conversations we'd had on the sub.

What had I said?

What had I revealed?

We'd talked about my marriage. About when my husband had died. He'd undoubtedly put two and two together.

He knew I'd been married to Leonardo.

Geraldine stepped forward. "The time is right. So true. And now it is right for a few other announcements as well."

I dragged my attention from Jason to look to Geraldine.

Her face held concern. "Many of us have noticed a wear on Phuong these past days, as the stressors of the viewings have built up. It is critical for all of us to keep Phuong healthy. So, for that reason, we are going to..."

She looked to me with a small smile. "We are _temporarily_ going to hold off on any stress-inducing viewings. Just until we settle into this new routine."

I reluctantly nodded.

"Also, Anastasia and I will strive to make ourselves more available to the group in the evening hours. That way Phuong can get more rest. I think we can all agree that she's shouldering a lot right now. Anastasia and I will do all we can to step up and help."

There were murmurs of support from around the room.

Geraldine spread her arms. "With that, we would like to ask everyone –"

My voice spoke out before I thought. "I need to say something."

All eyes turned to me.

Geraldine's brow furrowed in confusion. "Phuong? What is it?"

My gaze moved back to Jason. Maybe I'd been fooling myself, to think he wouldn't recognize me. After all, we'd known each other for six long years. We'd talked daily. Spent long nights working together. Slammed into nearly insurmountable challenges. Raced desperately against time. Celebrated our victories and consoled each other over defeats.

And then Leonardo had died.

I closed my eyes.

Jason had been there for me. He'd attentively helped me through the days. The weeks. The months until I could function again. Then I'd thrown myself in, body and soul, to my research on consciousness. I'd been consumed by it. Overwhelmed by it.

And then I'd had the breakthrough.

There'd been no other option. I knew what course I had to take. I contacted Geraldine and Anastasia. I revealed my true identity.

I'd given them the choice.

Jason asked, "Phuong?"

Regret eased through me as I came back to the present. I'd imagined this conversation, where I revealed the truth to him, a thousand times. Jason and I would be standing on a lavender beach. The evening surf would wash in with golds and crimsons.

He'd turn to me and say –

Geraldine's eyes held concern. "Phuong?"

I gave myself a shake. "I apologize. I know we have a schedule. But it's important, like you said, that we know the truth on key issues. Things which might come out over the coming weeks. For that reason, I want to make sure you all know two things."

Anastasia's gaze was supportive. "Of course, Phuong. We're here for you. What would you like to share?"

I drew in a deep breath. "First, something that only a few people in the world were aware of. About three years into the Hive's existence, Leonardo asked me to marry him. I accepted. We had just about three and a half years of marriage together, before he passed away."

Jason's eyes held calm support. He had, in fact, apparently figured that out. No wonder he was so lost in thought earlier.

Anastasia's mouth opened into a round O. "You two were a _couple_?"

Geraldine's cheeks tinted, but her gaze was steady.

I blinked in surprise. "You knew we were together?"

She gave a soft shrug. "Leonardo and I worked together closely on several projects. I might have gotten a sense that he was interested in you. Maybe given him a word or two of encouragement." She shrugged again. "You were living alone. He was interested in you. It seemed an ideal match."

It had never occurred to me that anybody in the group had known about us. We'd taken extreme precautions to ensure nobody found out.

But if anyone were to know, it made sense that Geraldine would. Her efforts spoke to the very foundation of our organization. To the ties which bound us all together.

I nodded and looked out to the passengers. Every person echoed back support and understanding.

I forced my voice to remain steady. "Well, then, I have to believe this next part might surprise you. I believe that nobody else knew it, outside of me and perhaps a few lawyers. Who Leonardo was in real life."

Geraldine murmured, "A tenured college professor, no doubt."

I shook my head. "Leonardo was Charles Leventis."

The room went dead silent.

Anastasia stared at me with round eyes. "As in Charles Leventis, the billionaire tech mogul?"

I slowly nodded.

Chanah burst out, "But that guy is a misogynist playboy! Supermodels on each arm! All night orgies –"

Geraldine's glare must have finally gotten through to her, and she choked into silence.

Jason was staring at me in shock. "Phuong. You can't be serious? Leonardo?"

I gave a tight shrug. I still remembered how hard it had been for me to absorb the news, when I'd realized it.

"I only found out after the wedding. We'd met a few times in person by then, but I'm not really a celebrity watcher. I'd heard of Charles Leventis, of course, but I only had a vague idea of what he looked like. I'd never made the connection that the quiet man who was dating me was someone like that."

Jason's gaze darkened. "He lied to you?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. He went by his mother's name when we were together. Charlie Carras. And I think part of what he liked about me was that I wasn't chasing the money. I didn't know about the fame. What I appreciated about him was the efforts we worked on in the Hive. His technical knowledge. His ability to coordinate."

Chanah burst out, "But the man was a heathen!"

My cheeks burnished.

I said:

"We seek him here, we seek him there,

Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.

Is he in Heaven? Is he in Hell?

_That damned elusive pimpernel._ "

Jason slowly nodded. "The Scarlet Pimpernel. Hiding in plain sight. Presenting a false personae so nobody would ever guess your true intentions."

I gave a small smile. "That is what he always said. And it certainly seemed true, when I followed the news. He could go anywhere in the world, and people passed it off to a billionaire's tourist whims. He could see anybody or anyone. Few took heed. It was just Charlie at his stupidity again."

Chanah was having trouble taking it in. "But he died in that penthouse! With drugs! And whores!"

The image came up before me, of Charlie's gaze wide open, seeing nothing –

Jason half came out of his seat, but Geraldine was there beside me. "All right, then. We know the truth now. If anybody has questions about this – or about anything else – message me or Anastasia. We will make ourselves available at any time to talk with you in private."

She put her head close to mine. "Would you like to take a break? To regain yourself before we start?"

I shook my head and glanced at the schedule.

Thank goodness. It was Kurt's turn first. His entry read "Space Aliens."

The room nervously chuckled.

He smiled at them. "I'm sure you've all heard about 'Oumuamua – the long, cigar-shaped meteor which we discovered in October, 2017. Well, our time-viewer can't see dates that recent. But it's not as if 'Oumuamua appeared in space at that moment in time. It actually entered the far reaches of our solar system back around 1850."

Heads began to nod.

He pointed at the screen. "So I figure, this time viewer can see to the edge of the galaxy. We wait at that edge for it to come in. Then we track and examine it for as long as we can, up through 1966. Maybe over that time period it will change. It'll do something interesting. Maybe we can examine it and learn something about it."

I smiled. This seemed reasonably relaxing and non-stressful.

"All right, then," I agreed. "We'll get started."

Geraldine looked at me. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. You need to avoid stressful videos. You need to regain your strength."

I nodded. "For now. Until I'm better able to handle them."

"Exactly," she agreed.

She took a seat alongside Jason.

The rest of the room stayed where it was. Apparently everyone wanted to see at least the beginning of this stream, to determine if there really were little gray men with giant eyes on his elongated rock.

I nodded and looked toward the front.

"Here we go."

# Chapter Eight

The rock had simply been rock. The group had slowly dispersed, including Anastasia, who went off to concoct her amazing macaroni and cheese.

But Jason and Geraldine had remained, watching me.

In the past I'd welcomed their presence.

But for some reason, today, I felt their eyes on me. As if they were evaluating me. Tracking my breaths.

Once my mother had died, I'd been in foster care. I'd been shunted from home to home. I'd never fit in. I'd never felt right.

Computers and virtual reality had been my escape. Where I could just be me, without comments on my clothes or household or anything else.

Now I had people staring at me. Judging me.

At last, by 3pm, I couldn't take it any more. When Penjami had finished her latest session on the mating habits of Dimetrodon, she left the room with a satisfied smile.

I turned on Geraldine and Jason. "All right. This has to stop."

Geraldine complacently folded her hands in her lap. "What do you mean? We are merely watching the films."

"You are watching _me_ ," I countered, "and it's causing me stress."

Geraldine frowned, but she nodded. She turned to Jason. "All right, then. Let's go."

I almost opened my mouth. I almost said that I found Jason's presence soothing. But then I realized Geraldine would undoubtedly take offense at that. She'd been there for me since the beginning. She wouldn't understand why her concern would bother me.

Jason held my gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded and stood.

He followed Geraldine out of the room.

I was alone.

I was all alone.

I would have thought I'd have relished it. I was used to being on my own.

Except with Jason it'd been different.

I'd looked forward to the times with him. Underwater dancing to celebrate the double solstice. Riding crimson-winged dragons over the cerulean deserts. Sitting on the mossy banks by a waterfall and just being... being... being...

The theater door pushed open, and I looked up with hope.

Yakira walked down the aisle, a big grin on her face. "All right. Time to delve deeper into the lakes and water tables of Chennai."

I smiled and nodded. Out of all the things concerning me, my personal concerns still didn't even come close to the seven million people currently desperate for water to drink.

Everything in perspective.

Still, I found myself glancing at the empty front row as the scenes from the video played out. As Kizimo came in to study how London managed traffic during the transition from horse-drawn carriage to gasoline-powered cars. As Devon documented the Aboriginal culture in his native Australia.

I grabbed a plate of Chicken Kiev at dinnertime, then settled down in the front row. I knew Firdaus would be along soon. He was going to explore glass makers in the Persian Empire. I was looking forward to it.

I took a taste.

_Delicious_.

I ate, once again appreciating Anastasia and all she did for us.

At last, I finished up the plate and put it to the side.

The door opened –

It was Jason. He glanced around before coming down to me. "How are you doing?"

It was as if I'd been thirsty and hadn't realized it until now. As if I'd been hiking at a high altitude and just gotten a full breath of oxygen.

I said, "Jason."

His brow creased in concern. "Phuong, are you all right?"

I nodded.

He took the seat next to me. "God, Phuong, I had no idea Leonardo was Charles Leventis. Or that you were married to him. Either of him."

"Of course you didn't," I assured him. "Nobody did. That was the point. For Charlie, Leonardo was his alter ego. Once where he could just be himself." I looked down. "I imagine the Hive was that for most of us. A place to be different. To shake off the real world."

He nodded, but his face remained serious. "Still, I am a journalist. I was told stories about Charlie by fellow reporters who worked the entertainment beat." He ran a hand through his hair.

"It's all right," I assured him. "A lot of that act, Charlie did on purpose. You know, the Scarlet Pimpernel. The more you play the fool in public, the less closely people watch you."

He nodded. But I could see the uncertainty in his gaze. He'd been a journalist for enough years to understand the double life.

But he also understood the converse.

That sometimes a lifestyle drew you in.

At last he said, "When you told me Leonardo died, I was sad for us. For losing a mentor. But you'd lost your husband. And I had no idea."

"You helped me through those worst days. You were the one who was there for me. It didn't matter if you knew he was my husband or my mentor. You listened to me. You cared. That's what I needed."

"I'm glad I was a help."

"You were more than a help. You were my lifeline."

His gaze held mine –

Geraldine came down the aisle, her eyes sharp. "Have you been eating, Phuong? If he's distracting you again –"

I pointed at the plate. "I had a delicious dinner. And I'm sure Firdaus will be here in any moment. We're going to watch some glassmaking."

The door swung open, and indeed Firdaus came down the aisle, his middle-eastern looks almost movie star in scope. "Are we ready to begin?"

Geraldine aimed a look at Jason.

He pushed to standing. "I'll take your plate in. Would you like anything to drink?"

Geraldine said, "I'll get her some water. She needs to stay hydrated."

I held in a sigh. "Thank you, Geraldine. I appreciate that." I turned to Jason. "And thank you. For everything."

He gave me a small bow. Then he collected up the plate and headed out.

An ease came to me. Jason knew the whole truth now. There were no more lies or deceptions. No more dodged questions or half-truths. I had removed the veil.

And he was still here. Still with me.

# Chapter Nine

I called out, "Good morning!"

I smiled with pleasure as I stepped into the lounge. Anastasia was there waiting for me with a steaming mug of coffee, and I took it with both hands.

I drew in a sip.

_Absolutely delicious_.

Anastasia chuckled. "Wow, you are definitely looking better today. I guess Geraldine's ideas about easing your burden helped immensely!"

My cheeks heated. "Well, just don't tell her that, because –"

Behind me, Geraldine said, "Don't tell me what?"

I shook my head. It seemed as if the woman was everywhere and all-knowing. I turned. "I just think the restrictions are a bit... all-encompassing. We're still just on the starting week, you know."

She nodded with satisfaction as she looked me over. "You're looking much better, Phuong. It's working. And, yes, we're on the starting week – this is where we figure out what the best way of approaching the task is. If the previous way didn't work well, and this way works wonderfully, then the evidence is clear."

I held in a sigh. There was no need to argue about this right now. We would have plenty of time to tweak and adjust the system over the coming weeks. And, I had to admit, I was finally feeling more like myself. Maybe it was the minimal stress I'd had during the sessions yesterday. Or maybe it was the fact that I'd finally revealed the truth about my relationships to the group. I was no longer hiding things.

I'd give it all some time.

Geraldine looked up at the clock. "C'mon. Let's go in. The more we keep on schedule, the less stress for everyone involved. And it means you get to sleep again at a decent hour."

We walked into the theater.

Everyone was in their seats, and Jason / Oishi was in the front row. Now that he knew everything about me, it was as if a filter had been removed from between us. I was now able to look at him and take in all aspects of who he was.

Jason Watanabe the world-class reporter. The man who traveled the world and tackled corruption regardless of danger to himself.

Oishi the talented hacker. The man whose skills had gotten the Hive into numerous secure laptops and systems. The data obtained from those breaches had taken down the highest level of corrupt individuals.

Oishi the friend. No, not just a friend. A best friend. For when I was in my darkest moments, when I was deep in a well and couldn't see a single glimmer of light, it had been Oishi who had hunkered down there with me. Who had been there for me, steady, any time of day or night, to support me.

My eyes went to his.

His shone with respect and compassion.

Geraldine cleared her throat. "All right, then. Day Five. We are past the half-way mark. I want to talk for a moment about last-day logistics. I realize that this group has become close knit. The decision each of us makes, to stay or go, will impact not just the person making the decision but also every other person here. The thought of that might put pressure on some of you, one way or another. We're going to do our best to minimize that."

She put her hands on her hips. "On that final day, we will do one last session per person. Twelve sessions. Eight hours. That takes us until 6pm. At that point, we'll have a wrap-up meeting in the lounge and people will say good-bye to each other. Then everyone returns to their rooms. Even us three in the management team."

Anastasia raised her tablet. Each of you passengers can choose which of us comes to talk with you. You can choose one, two, or all three of us. You can talk with us as long as you need to. And then you make your decision. If you choose to leave, we'll help you off the ship. You don't have to interact with anyone else. No pressure. You will be taken to an airport and flown home. You'll receive your $500,000."

The room was silent.

Geraldine said, "A schedule will click off, so you know how long you have until it's your turn. Nothing will be said about anybody's choice. When the schedule is complete, we can all return to the lounge and have a drink. Take stock. Then we start posting the videos online."

I asked, "Any questions?"

Sarah asked, "We'd still be able to stay in touch? If we chose to leave?"

Geraldine nodded. "As we've mentioned, the Hive has set up secure, anonymous relays. We can still email out, and you can contact us. You won't be wholly cut off."

Penjami said, "That's good. If I choose to stay, there are a number of CRISPR projects involving HIV that I'd be leaving behind. I'd need to be able to help my team with any questions they had as they moved forward without me."

Devon added, "The same with my Temple. There are details about the finances we'd need to sort out. I'd need to transfer access to the operating accounts to other people."

I said, "I'm sure anyone who stayed would have similar issues. I'm not sure anybody came on this seven-day retreat with the thought that they had to have their affairs in order. I hope you can understand why we did things the way we did. Why secrecy was important."

The heads nodded. Everyone seemed in complete accord.

Geraldine rubbed her hands together. "All right, then. Let's get started." She looked down at Jason. "I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes. Maybe on the bridge, while I keep an eye on our course?"

He glanced at me, as if weighing something, and then he nodded. I had a feeling that his journalistic instincts could not possibly pass up a chance of seeing the bridge of our submarine. I was a bit surprised that Geraldine was going to take him there, but it wasn't as if we had any other private meeting spaces on this sub besides our rooms. It was built by a sheik for entertaining, not by a business conglomerate for hosting talks.

I brought up the schedule. "All right, then. Lila. What aspect of climatology are we going to examine today? The topic of _ice_ is pretty broad."

She eagerly leaned forward. "Yakira and I have been doing a lot of talking. Her water issues in India? Well, everything is interconnected. So if we can look into the ice packs..."

* * *

Ten p.m. was fast approaching. Alex was brimming with satisfaction. The screen currently showed the final home – at least as of 1965 – of the lost Cherub with Chariot Faberge egg. He had already tracked down the locations of the other lost eggs and surprises.

Geraldine strolled down the aisle. "How is everything going?"

Alex beamed. "Absolutely wonderful. I can't wait for the researchers to post full photos of these finds. It's something I've dreamed about all my life."

She smiled. "Good. I'm so pleased your session went well."

He got up and strode out of the theater. I had a sense he was going back to his room to play the video in slow motion. To pause as we examined each egg.

Geraldine clapped her hands together. "And you? Feeling all right?"

"I am," I assured her. "No issues at all. It's been as smooth as silk."

"Well, Day Five is complete. Just one more full day and then the half-day. We're nearly there." She chuckled. "Anastasia and I are laying bets on who will stay and who will leave. Want to cast your votes?"

I shook my head. "I would like to view each person as someone who will stay. I want to invest as much energy as I can into each person, treating them as a full partner in this."

She waved a hand. "Of course, of course. That makes sense."

She nudged her head. "C'mon. I'll walk you to your room."

Resistance flared up within me, but I tamped it down. Geraldine was right. Her schedule and restrictions were working – I was feeling much better. And I still had to get through these remaining two days before the decision point was reached. I wanted to do that as flawlessly as I could. In my dream world, everyone would remain. We'd go into full operation with the whole team intact.

I had to do my part to make that happen.

I took up my water and tablet and followed her out of the room.

A few small clusters of passengers were seated around the lounge. In one corner, Roger and Devon were intensely discussing something about the siege of Jericho. In another, Lila and Chanah were brainstorming water rights. And there –

Jason sat with Sarah. He was holding both of her hands in his own. She seemed to be upset.

I paused –

Geraldine gave me a gentle tug. "Come on. I'll go check in on everyone once you're in your room. But you need your rest. We have to keep you healthy!"

Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be led. To be guided in through the door.

To have it shut behind me.

* * *

I sprang awake.

I wasn't sure what woke me. The room was quiet. My room's walls were done as if I were in a beach house; the bank of windows to my left were open to the air with rolled rattan shutters tied up above each one. Beyond lay the lavender beach and the gently rolling waves. The moon was high in the sky, its face peeking and hiding between drifting clouds.

I glanced at my tablet on the side table.

Two a.m.

I stretched. I'd been dreaming of my early childhood with my mother. When she'd still been alive. I'd been four years old, and I remembered how blissfully happy we'd been together. It was her and me against the entire world. She would call me her _little phoenix_.

And then she'd been hit by that car...

My stomach rumbled.

Maybe a small serving of orange sherbet would help me get back to sleep.

I drew on sweats and a t-shirt and headed out.

The lights were low in the lounge, with LED candles flickering on the various table. There was nobody there.

Disappointment eased into me, and I shook it off. This was silly. I could hardly expect Jason to be waiting for me any time I headed anywhere.

I went into the kitchen area and got the footed metal bowl and spoon. A few moments later, and my orange sherbet glistened in a small collection of scoops.

My stomach rumbled.

I headed out –

He was standing there. His eyes were on me.

The bowl tumbled out of my hand. It bounced on the floor.

Orange spheres tumbled in disarray.

He strode forward, passing me to grab up the paper towels. "I didn't meant to startle you."

"No, it's all right, I just didn't expect to see you," I stammered, taking some of the towels and helping him to gather up the mess. In short order we had everything back into the bowl and had cleaned the floor. Then it was in to the kitchen to dump the items into the trash.

I began rinsing out the bowl. "So how is Sarah doing?"

I could have bitten my tongue. I finally see Jason alone, after all this time, and my first question is about Sarah?

He was getting the orange sherbet back out of the freezer. "She's having a crisis of conscience. Mary Carroway was the one invited, of course. And Mary specifically told Sarah to attend for the seven days, come right back home again, and to deposit the $500,000 in Mary's personal bank account. Sarah has a sense that Mary has already spent the money. Already placed the orders for a high-end sports car and diamond tiara and so on."

I glanced up. "Tiara? Really?"

Jason nodded, his eyes sparkling.

I finished cleaning the bowl and put it on the counter. Jason had the scoop and began doling out my sherbet for me. "Mary seems to have eclectic tastes."

He finished and put the sherbet back.

We walked over into the lounge. I asked, "So what is Sarah going to do?"

There were footsteps, and I froze. If Geraldine came in and saw me talking with a passenger –

It was Kurt, yawning. He rubbed a hand over his bald head and then blinked his eyes open. His gaze went to my orange sherbet and brightened. "You, too?"

I smiled and nodded.

His footsteps quickened as he headed into the kitchen.

I turned to Jason, and my cheeks tinted with warmth. "I was going to eat this in my room. If you'd like –"

"Yes," he said. "Yes."

My heart hammered against my ribs as we walked the short distance down the hallway. I put my hand against the plate, and the door slid open.

We stepped in.

He stopped.

I followed his gaze as he took in the bamboo walls. The bank of open windows which overlooked the lavender-sand beach. The rolling waves.

His voice was rough when he said, "This is Remulon Six."

I nodded, putting my ice cream and spoon down on the side table. "I know it's not real-real, but the computer doesn't care. It's just input like any other. The computer is just as happy showing a scene from a virtual world as from our real one."

His eyes were caught by something, and he moved to the wall.

My cheeks flared with heat. I'd forgotten about that.

There, hanging from a silver hook, was a black silk pendant. Dangling at the bottom was a saber-toothed tiger's canine. The tooth was a massive eleven inches long. It was held on to the cord by a beautifully worked silver cap.

Even looking at it now, a shiver ran through me. I remembered that day as clearly as if it were etched in steel. Every moment. Every heartbeat.

His hand went to the wall, touching where the image of the pendant was. It wasn't real, of course. It had been a virtual creation in our virtual existence.

But it seemed real.

He turned to me with haunted eyes. "You have it here? In your room?"

"Of course I do. You saved my life."

"Your virtual life."

"We had been inhabiting those avatars for three years. Ever since we joined the Hive. Are you saying yours wasn't a part of you by then? That to have to start over, to rebuild with a new character, wouldn't have affected you?"

"Of course, but still –"

I stepped forward. "I'm the one who thought we should go into the jungles to find the waterfall. You told me it was dangerous, but I ignored you. I figured I had the hand-to-hand training. Besides, you were there with me. You were a Soluron warrior. Nothing could get past you. I imagined if we came across a herd of tarpans or something like that, it would have been fun."

My gaze went to the tooth. "But there wasn't supposed to be a saber-toothed tiger there. Their spawn rate was infinitesimal. One in four million."

I could still feel the moment. The moment when the waterfall came into view, and my heart lifted with joy. I'd twined my fingers into Jason's –

The saber-tooth had stepped into the clearing. He was completely silent on those massive paws. His head was at chest height. His long canines had gleamed in the afternoon sun.

And his eyes... his eyes were cold... calculating...

Lost in the memory, I began trembling.

Jason took two steps, and then he pulled me in, hard, against his chest, his arms wrapping protectively around me. "It's all right. You're safe. We're safe."

I drew my hands up his back, craving to be against him. I could see it all in perfect clarity. How he had instantly moved to block my body with his. How he had drawn out the two curved knives he wore at his hip. He practiced with them an hour every day. The routines both toned his real-life physical body and, due to the virtual suit, they improved the stats of the in-game character as well. He'd taken both tasks seriously.

But he'd never faced a saber-toothed tiger before. Only three people that I'd heard of had ever tried this.

Only one had lived.

And he'd had a rail gun.

The tiger had launched –

I buried my head against Jason's chest. I cried out, "Oishi!"

He ran a hand down my hair. "Ratridevi, I'm here. I'm here."

I raised my head

Our eyes held each other's –

Our lips met, hard, tangled, and I wrapped my hands in that thick hair. He'd had blue ridges in the game, but it didn't matter, that shell didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was here, now, and there were no longer barriers between us.

His hands went to my t-shirt, mine to his, and in a moment there were no barriers at all.

* * *

The surf rolled gently against the lavender sand. It gave a gentle whoosh as it eased back down into the sea.

The water's surface glimmered with moonlight.

I sprawled against Jason's chest. His fingers gently stroked my back.

He moved one hand to tenderly draw a line down the center of my chest. "You wore it here. The pendant I made. Just seeing you with that filled me with contentment. I can't explain how much it meant to me."

His eyes shadowed, and he looked away.

My throat tightened. "It was that very weekend that Leonardo invited me on our first virtual date. He had re-created a scene from a ball in _Pride and Prejudice_ , down to the last tiny detail. He'd even created an Empire dress for me with a matching garnet necklace. I of course wore them for the evening. I left the tooth pendant in his library."

My gaze shadowed. "When I went back the next day, to pick up the pendant, he said it was around somewhere. But he wanted to take me on a gondola ride in Venice during a masked ball. The dress was stunning, with intricate detail. He must have spent hours on it. And the cascading diamond necklace..."

Jason nodded. His face was steady. "He was reacting to me. Leonardo saw that I cared about you – and he wanted you for himself."

I laughed. "Don't be silly. Back then, you thought I was like your kid sister. Someone sort of annoying, but you tolerated me being there."

He stared at me in shock. "Where did you get that idea?"

"Geraldine told me –"

Words left me.

I could see it clearly in his gaze. I could see the truth of how he felt.

And now, when I reconsidered every time we'd been together, every evening –

My breath came out of me. "Jesus Christ."

His voice was a groan. "Devi –"

Our mouths met, our bodies twined, and this time our souls melded as if they could never be undone.

* * *

The amber letters said 4 a.m. Our breathing eased into a more normal rhythm, and I twisted deeper into the twining. I wanted all of me to touch all of him. I didn't want one space separating us. Not now. Not ever.

He pressed a long kiss to my forehead. "God, Devi. If only I'd just told you. But I thought I was being clear. I thought you just needed time." He shook his head. "And then you were pulling away. The tooth pendant had just vanished. I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong."

I ran a hand down his cheek. "You hadn't done anything wrong. I guess Leonardo saw what was happening and realized he had to move quickly if he was going to have a chance. He pulled out all the stops." I shook my head. "And I said yes. I didn't see any reason to refuse. I didn't think anyone else was interested in me."

His voice went hoarse. "Not interested in you..."

I nestled down into him.

For a long while we simply were.

At last I sighed. "I hate to do this. You don't know how hard this is for me to say. But you have to go."

His brow drew up.

I ran a hand down that muscular chest of his. "It's... it's Geraldine. And Anastasia. They've become incredibly protective of me. Of me getting enough sleep and such. If they think I've become... distracted... by something, it'll cause an issue. And we're so close to the decision point. I can't jeopardize the ship's calm. Not right now."

He nodded. "Of course."

He leaned forward to kiss me.

My body warmed... lifted...

With effort I moved back, separating us.

He gave a small smile.

Then, with the grace of a panther, he rolled out of bed and began pulling on his pants. A moment later and he was fully dressed.

He came around to the side of the bed and looked down my body. "You make it challenging for a man to leave you."

For some reason, a different scene came to mind. I replied, "Charlie never seemed to have any problem with it."

His gaze became serious. "Charlie was a fool. An absolute fool. It could be he went after you mainly because I wanted you. He could be like that. Fiercely competitive. And once he had you safely locked away from me, he lost interest."

My mouth opened to protest – to defend Charlie –

Realization swept over me.

Jason could be right. He could be exactly right.

He brought his head down to my forehead to press a long, tender kiss there.

Then he stepped back.

He took in one last look.

Then he turned.

He was gone.

# Chapter Ten

A long, loud yawn erupted from me as I walked down the corridor to the lounge. I didn't mind. I felt as if I were glowing. As if I were floating on air.

I rounded the corner. Geraldine and Anastasia were waiting for me, arms crossed. Geraldine said, "I had a talk with Kurt, and he said you were awake late for ice cream last night."

My cheeks flushed. Had Kurt mentioned that Jason was there?

Anastasia's gaze shone. "Wow, Phuong, you look amazing. You know, Geraldine, I think that midnight ice cream is doing wonders for her. And don't tell me you're not sneaking in here around four a.m. every night to grab a tray of my truffles. Every morning, I find six of them are mysteriously missing."

Now Geraldine reddened. She muttered, "I'm low on calcium. And that raspberry sauce you use..."

"Exactly," grinned Anastasia. "Our bodies tell us what they need to be healthy. The microbiome and all of that. So you need truffles, and Phuong here needs orange sherbet. Seems right to me, don't you think?"

Geraldine reluctantly nodded. "You're sure you're feeling better? No headaches? No dizziness?"

I smiled at her. "I'm doing just fine. I'm ready for today. It's Day Six, you know! Our last full day. And everything's going perfectly. No enemy contacts?"

Geraldine was in her element now. "Not even a faint one. This sub is amazing, and between satellites and global shipping records, it's child's play to weave between the lines. I'm starting to think you're right. If we want to get lost, we can stay lost. Maybe for years."

I beamed. "That's the spirit. Come on. Let's see what the group has in store for us today."

We walked down into the theater, closing the door behind us.

The group was assembled. They'd started to rearrange themselves. Sarah and Kizimo were side by side, chattering about social systems in cities. Lila and Yakira had notes about water tables. Roger and Devon seemed to have found new accord on Jesus's early years.

Jason was in the front row. I swear, the man looked as if he'd gotten a solid night's sleep. As if nothing at all had happened.

Then I saw his eyes – the way they held mine –

I carefully looked away.

We had another day-and-a-half. A blink of an eye, really, when it came to the scale of the universe. We just had to hide public knowledge of our relationship until after the decision point came.

At that point, we'd simply be grateful for every day we had left to us.

Geraldine beamed. "Welcome, everyone, to Day Six. It's our last full day of sessions. I realize that we are approaching a moment when each of you will have to change your lives. You will have to make one choice which impacts everything which comes after."

She waved her hand at the blank wall before us. "We've seen, time and time again, how those single decisions can impact everything. President Teddy Roosevelt decided to stick a speech in his pocket – and that speech saved him from an assassin's bullet. Archduke Ferdinand, nervous about threats, ordered his route changed, but the driver made a wrong turn. They drove right past the assassin. Ferdinand's death sparked World War I – and that then led us directly into World War II."

Chanah nodded. "When the Allies landed at Normandy, they were nearly destroyed. But the main Nazi commander, Rommel, wasn't there. By wild chance, he'd decided to go back to Germany to celebrate his wife's birthday. He was in Germany when he got the news that the Allies were invading. He raced back to Normandy, but by the time he got there it was too late. The landing had succeeded."

I shook my head. "That assault was bloody enough as it was. Imagine if Rommel had actually been there, coordinating things."

Chanah said, "The Seventh Army didn't even have its regular commanders there. They'd been sent off to a war game exercise. If our troops barely managed to survive with no enemy leadership present, imagine what they would have faced if the full contingent of Nazi generals had been there at hand."

The room went silent.

Geraldine nodded. "So I think we all agree. Decisions should be taken seriously – both large and small. And what is coming up tomorrow evening is a fairly large one. So, again, while Phuong does her sessions today, I want to reiterate that Anastasia and I are available at any time to talk. No matter how minor your question is, ask it. Talk with your fellow passengers. Give yourself time to consider."

Nods went around the room.

Anastasia asked, "Is there anything any of you want to ask us now, in public?"

Kizimo said, "I've done quite a lot of city planning over the years. Often the best of plans run into challenges because of budgetary issues. Are we secure that the Hive has enough money to see this through?"

An involuntary laugh came from Jason.

All eyes turned.

Jason held up a hand. "I apologize. I know every question is important. It's just – finances are the least of the Hive's concerns. The Hive has more than enough funding to take care of anything at all that we could possibly need. If there's something to worry about, in all of this, access to money is not one of them."

Kizimo nodded in satisfaction.

Anastasia looked over the room. "Anything else? Anything at all?"

The room was quiet.

Geraldine beamed in satisfaction. "All right then. I'll let Phuong get started. First up on the schedule is... Devon. All right, Rabbi, what did you have in mind?"

He smiled. "We have the film of Moses. Of David. But now I would like to start with a manuscript we saw, in one of those films. Of the Song of Songs. The Song of Solomon. The love story. If we start with that parchment, and work our way backwards, maybe we can find where it began. Who wrote it."

My heart sung. This was a soulful way to begin the day.

Geraldine beamed. "Perfect. Wonderful." She sat down alongside Jason. "Let's get going."

I didn't care that she was watching me. That we had restrictions on what we saw.

Jason was there with me. We were exploring one of the most beautiful passages the Bible had to offer.

We began.

* * *

The sessions came and went, the people flowed in and out, and while Geraldine sat at Jason's side for nearly the entire day, I didn't mind. It no longer mattered that she was watching the video stream to censor out anything troublesome.

Jason was there.

As the videos flowed of Cleopatra and Merlin, of Lincoln and Freud, my own inner soundtrack was playing. I was reviewing every encounter I'd had with Jason. I was remembering the time we walked along the Deruvian canals in candlelight, so close our sleeves brushed. The time we'd seen the entire field of Jorian lavender in full flower. The magical time we'd swum with the rays for hours on end, bathed in their fluorescence.

He'd been there.

He'd always been there.

His gaze held mine, and I knew he was remembering... revisiting...

Geraldine said, "Phuong, we're set. Wow, you must be tired. Maybe you should lay off the orange sherbet tonight."

A deep flush washed my cheeks. "Maybe you're right. Sorry. Just lost in thought."

She stood. "Anyway, let me walk you to your room. Tomorrow's the big day. The final day. You need all the rest you can."

I turned to Jason and nodded.

I could see in his eyes.

He'd be there soon.

I walked with Geraldine. "Thank you so much for helping me through this. I know I'm not good at setting my own limits. You have always been there for me. From the beginning."

She smiled, the harsh lines of her face softening. "I have always tried to be, Phuong. I think of you as a younger sister. Someone to watch over."

The memory came to me, of what she'd told me all those years ago. That Jason had considered me merely an annoying younger sister. That I should stop bugging him as much.

I held my tongue. That had been years ago, when we were all just meeting each other. Undoubtedly she'd misunderstood something. Maybe he had, in fact, gotten frustrated with me at some point and had made an off-hand comment. She had misinterpreted it.

We reached my door. I smiled at her, and then drew her into a hug.

She coughed. "What was that for?"

"For everything," I said. "For just being you."

Her face was glowing when I stepped back. I put my hand to the door and slipped into the room. Its walls were plain ivory. There were no windows.

She said, "Sleep well." And then she turned and was gone.

I looked over the room. It was such a simple space. Four walls. A floor. A ceiling.

It was time to begin.

* * *

The knock came on my door. It was about midnight. I'd just finished adding the last touches on my creation. I went to the door and carefully peered around it.

Jason stood there, his gaze shining.

I drew the door open and let him in.

He looked around in awe. For a long moment, he didn't speak.

Then he said, "The waterfall."

I nodded.

I had done everything I could to bring it to life. There, before the bed, was the waterfall itself, cascading and splashing, bubbling and burbling. The stream ran alongside the left side of the bed. All around us were trees and flowers, song and breezes. The sky above was bright with gently drifting clouds.

His gaze turned back to me. "You did an amazing job. But you could have left the walls plain ivory. All that matters is that you are here. That you... you see me. You see what you mean to me."

I smiled at him.

I slipped off my robe.

His mouth hung open. His gaze was fixed at my breast.

I moved my hand to the pendant.

"We have a 3D printer on board," I explained. "It's handy in case we run into issues. And it was a simple enough matter to research the fossils of saber-tooth tigers, and to –"

He crossed the space to me in two long steps.

He drew me into his arms.

There was no more need for words.

* * *

I must be dreaming. It couldn't be anything else. For there was Jason, warm and real in my arms. His eyes were closed and he was drawing in long, even breaths. I looked at those strong arms. The well-muscled chest. He had risked his life for me. Virtually, true, but the fear had been just as real. The deep growl of the tiger had sent a fight-or-flight urge coursing into my amygdala. My brain hadn't sorted out real or virtual. All it knew was that I was about to die.

_I was about to die_.

And then Oichi had stepped before me.

He'd experienced the same electric jolt – and he'd chosen. He'd chosen – no matter what the cost – to protect me. To put his body before mine.

And he had drawn his knives.

His eyes fluttered open. His gaze went smoky. "What's that look for?"

I leaned forward. "For being you."

He drew me in –

The world fell away.

* * *

I blinked my eyes awake in concern. The tablet was reading 9:45am. We had to get up. We had to get showered and dressed. If Geraldine or Anastasia caught us together –

The left side of the bed was empty.

Jason was gone.

I felt a tornado of relief and emptiness. I hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye. My hand went to the cool spot, holding there for a long, long moment.

I forced myself to breathe.

Soon we would be able to be public with our relationship. We just had to get through today. Day Seven. The final day.

I showered, dressed, and headed out down the hallway. Deep foreboding filled me. This was the last chance. The day of reckoning. When I reached the lounge, I was relieved to see Anastasia and Geraldine waiting for me.

Geraldine handed me a mug. "Sleep all right?"

I nodded, taking a long sip.

Anastasia's face was serious. "Well, we're finally here. The choices will be made. My guess is that ten will stay and two will leave."

Geraldine nodded. "Mine is that eleven will stay and one will leave."

I turned to her. "Oh? Which one?"

She shrugged. "You'll have to wait and see. Unless that viewer of yours can see into the future?"

I shook my head. "Not a chance."

Anastasia stepped forward. "C'mon. I want to get through today. I want to know how this turns out."

We walked down into the theater.

The groups were there, the conversation was in full flow, but something was off. Something –

Jason wasn't there.

I turned to Geraldine in surprise.

She tapped her tablet. "I got a note that he has gotten caught up in watching Jesus' trial at the Sanhedrin." She gave a wry smile. "He might be a while."

I knew what that was like. When I reached those final events in the life of Jesus, I don't think I'd emerged for five days straight. Even when I used fast forward during the quieter times.

I turned to the group. "Welcome to Day Seven. I know it seems as if the time has flown by. But here we are. The day of decision. Each of you gets one final session. Then each of you makes your choice. If you want, you can have me, Geraldine, or Anastasia with you for that process. You can have two or three of us. Whatever you want, we will support you."

Anastasia stepped forward. "Are there any final questions before we begin? Any thoughts?"

Sarah spoke up. Her eyes were shining. "I just wanted to say, these were the most amazing seven days of my entire life. And not just the videos. It's the conversations we've had. The topics we've discussed. Whatever happens today, whoever stays or goes, each of you has touched my life forever."

A chorus of agreements circled the room.

I nodded in appreciation. "We are glad to hear that. Does anyone have anything else? Anything at all?"

Their gazes were firm. Their faces were set.

They were ready.

I turned my gaze. "All right, then. Sarah? We start with you."

Her eyes went to the screen. Her voice was firm. "December first. 1955."

The room murmured. Alex said, "Rosa Parks."

Sarah's eyes shone. "Exactly."

The film began.

* * *

Time scrolled on, Anastasia brought me food, and Geraldine brought me drinks. Each person knew this might be their very last time in the theater. Each session ended with hugs and thanks. Dark shadows seemed to pulse against the offerings of gratitude.

Jason was absent.

In a way, I was thankful for it. It helped me be more present for each passenger. I would have plenty of time for Jason going forward. Anastasia and Geraldine were tending to my every need. The videos chosen for this last round were almost all uplifting and encouraging. It was as if the group had decided to bring us all hope. To remind us of how we could lift our society up out of the hatred and fear. To embrace the humanity of us all.

At last it was six p.m. The very last video of the day was done by Kurt. He created a sweeping tour of our solar system. It reminded me of just how small we were, in the grand scheme of things. Just how precious our one Earth was. There was nowhere else like it as far as we could tell. We had to treasure our planet. Care for it.

We had nowhere else to go.

We went out into the lobby, and indeed the whole group was present. There was Roger and Devon, Sarah and Kizimo, Lila and Yakira –

Jason wasn't there.

Geraldine murmured at my ear, "He sends his regards. He's now deep into the crucifixion at Golgotha."

I remembered that moment. How I could barely breathe. Barely move.

Murmurs went around the room. Roger raised a glass. "To history."

Clinks echoed, and the room went quiet.

It seemed as if I should be the one to speak, but my throat went dry. We were, at last, at that moment. The moment of a decision. Where a mere sway of left or right could determine everything.

Geraldine stepped up. "We chose each of you out of billions of other people on our planet. We were precisely selective in our ideal list. We invested immense effort in doing everything we could to help each of you take that first step to join us. It is a testament to your courage and strength that you heeded the call. You are, literally, our dream team. You were our first draft. Our best of the best."

The faces around us glowed.

Geraldine continued. "Now you have each invested the full week with us. Leave or stay, your legacy will live on in the videos you have chosen to share with the entire world. If you decide to return home, you will have your $500,000 and our thanks. Hopefully the money will help you move forward. There will be countless people who will want to talk with you, once these videos release. There will be inconveniences. Pressures. We will do all we can to help you through those."

She nodded. "For those who choose to stay, there will be different challenges. Your lives at home will need wrapping up. Our futures here are uncertain. How long can we keep the sub hidden? How many videos can we upload? Will the CIA leave us alone, or will they be desperate to contain the truth about the Bay of Pigs? Only time will tell. We can't see the future. Only the past."

Her gaze went to each group member in turn. "Most of all, we want to say thank you. From Anastasia, Phuong, and myself, thank you. Your presence here has been a gift which we will treasure forever."

The room burst into applause, and it went on for a long, long time.

And then we were all hugging, shaking hands, thanking each other, and tears flowed. We realized what this could mean. Any person could choose to go home. But I saw it on peoples' faces. We would get through it. Whatever happened, whatever individual choices people made. We would go on. Either at home or on board, the truth would get out.

At last, with Geraldine's gentle prodding, the passengers began heading back to their rooms. When the final door had clicked shut, I brought my tablet into my hands. I reviewed the list.

Alex was first.

He had requested all three of us.

Anastasia turned to me with somber eyes. "Here we go."

* * *

I was tired.

I sipped at my Champagne, leaning back against my bed's pillows.

Each interview had gone for at least twenty minutes. I'd been present for Alex's, and Kurt's, but many of the passengers had asked to talk with either Anastasia or Geraldine. It made sense. While I'd been busy in the theater for most of every day, Geraldine and Anastasia had made efforts to be available in the lounge. To be there for private talks. People had formed relationships. Connections. And on this most critical of final talks, they wanted someone they knew.

So I waited in my room during those quiet periods. I didn't watch anything. I simply sat, quiet, reflecting on the task before us.

When I reconnected with Geraldine or Anastasia to talk with one of our passengers, I got no sense from either of them what their previous conversations had gone like. We'd agreed not to convey information until the very end. True, I'd known Kurt had chosen to stay on board. So had Alex. I had been there for both of those discussions. But the others? They would have been escorted to the lounge, guided up the elevator, and let off. Geraldine had that all arranged.

And they'd begin their long, solitary flight back home.

I gave that thought. I wondered what it must be like, after experiencing all this ship had to offer, to turn one's back on it. To decide it was not worth pursuing. To go back to one's coffee machine and car and work week.

My tablet dinged.

I gathered up the tablet and glass –

My brow creased in confusion.

We were down at the last name. Jason. And, originally, he'd listed that he wanted to talk with all three of us. Geraldine, Anastasia, and me.

But the entry had changed.

Now he only wanted to talk with Geraldine.

I eased back against my pillow.

Did he want to reveal concerns to her – concerns he didn't want me to influence? Had he seen something during his viewings of Jesus's life that had brought him new insight? I knew it had happened to me. Those videos had changed me. They had absolutely changed Devon, and Roger, and several others.

How could they not?

I settled back down and took another sip of the Champagne.

He would get his time, just like everyone else. He would talk through his concerns. Express his issues. Geraldine would answer honestly and fairly, as she always had done.

And then we would go on.

Time ticked... ticked... ticked...

The last schedule box was checked.

Jason's decision had been completed.

Chimes sounded throughout the submarine, joyous, celebratory, and I tumbled out of my room toward the lounge. I saw cries of delight as Devon and Roger embraced. As Lila and Yakira ran toward each other with open arms. There was Sarah and Kizimo. Kurt and Alex. Penjami and Chanah and Firdaus. Anastasia strolled in with Geraldine...

I looked around in confusion. "Where's Jason?"

Anastasia's face shadowed. "I'm so sorry, Phuong."

I couldn't breathe. "What do you mean?"

Geraldine turned toward me. "Jason was conflicted. He felt his presence here could distract us from our focus. So, in the end, he made the sacrifice."

"The... sacrifice?" I was having trouble connecting thoughts together.

Geraldine nodded. "He chose to leave the ship."

# Chapter Eleven

I couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe... couldn't breathe...

Anastasia put a hand out to me. "Phuong?"

I turned and ran toward the bridge.

Anastasia called out, "Phuong?"

I got to the bridge and slammed my hand on the door's access plate. The door slid open, and I popped through.

The door automatically locked behind me.

I raced over to the map table. I had to figure out what island we were near. Our log would have our entire journey laid out. It would be child's play for me to surface us again near the island. I just had to talk with him. To find out why –

I stared at the map in disbelief.

There on the far right was Easter Island. It was famous for its thousand stone head _moai_ and a known history tracing back to the Middle Ages.

But the map's zoomed-out scale showed that Easter Island was a full thousand miles to our east.

We were in the middle of the desolate South Pacific Ocean.

I looked down. The fringe ice shelves of Antarctica were a full thousand-miles-plus to our south.

A thousand miles west was the coastline of New Zealand. The refuge of dystopian-wary billionaires who had set up bunkers and mansions designed to outlast the zombie apocalypse.

We were in the middle of open ocean. Practically the furthest from land that one could get on our Earth.

I clicked a button – and stared in horror.

The log files had been erased. There was no record at all of where we'd been.

When we'd surfaced.

The door behind me clicked, and Geraldine and Anastasia tumbled into the room. Anastasia asked, "Phuong! What's going on!"

The reality of it crashed in on me.

I'd last seen Jason around 4 a.m.

It was now after 11 p.m.

That was a full nineteen hours.

The submarine could do about 35 mph as its top speed.

That created a circle with a radius of 665 miles of open ocean to search.

Plus currents.

I sank to my knees.

Jason was out there somewhere. Maybe, at this very moment, he was dying of exposure.

And I had no idea how to find him.

Thank you for reading _A Time To Mourn A Time To Dance._ The ebook should be free on all platforms, to let you sample the series and see if you like it. Proceeds from this series help support battered women's shelters

The next book is:

A Time to Search A Time to Lose

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# Dedication

Heart-felt thanks to:

Ruth, who always provides feedback and support for all my projects.

To members of my Sutton writing group and Boston writing group who provide valuable feedback.

To my boyfriend, Bob, who has supported me in my dreams for over twenty years.

And most of all, to my loyal fans on Facebook, Twitter, GoodReads, and other platforms, who provide valuable feedback and enthusiastic encouragement. Together we help make a difference!

# About the Author

I certainly have plenty of series already out in the world. I think it was 33 series at last count. The last thing I wanted to do was to start another series.

But for some reason this idea kept calling to me. I would try to write other things. This storyline would come back up. If I was driving long distances, or trying to fall asleep, this would come back to me.

Finally I decided I'd better write it. If it was that important to my brain, I'd get it down. I'd see where it went.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story!

# Free Books

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