71

Dominique Wiewall

October 18, 2047. Ellesmere Island, Nunavut, Canada.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel ecstatic or dejected. They’d disabled five production facilities, but not seven. When those two were added to the Easter Island facility, the defenders could still roll out about 80 percent of the new troops they’d planned, if they ran the facilities full tilt, cracked the whip on the technicians. Security would be super-tight at those remaining facilities, so hitting them again wasn’t an option.

Someone knocked. “Come in!” she called, hoping it was Forrest.

It was. Gasping from the cold, he pulled off his gloves, a big, goofy smile on his face.

“What?” Dominique said.

“Nothing.” He went on smiling.

“What?”

“Have dinner with me?”

Dominique gave him a puzzled look. They had dinner together every night, though usually he didn’t phrase it quite like that. Usually it was “You going to dinner?” or “You ready?”

She checked the time on her screen. “Dinner’s not for another hour and a half. Unless you’re taking me to a swanky new restaurant I don’t know about.”

He clapped his hands together, spun in a half circle. “Damn. You guessed my surprise.”

Lila raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe not a new restaurant. Blake agreed to cook us dinner early, so we could have the cafeteria to ourselves for a change.”

“Blake did? Wow, what did you have to trade for that, your last pair of warm socks?”

“Don’t even ask.” Forrest looked pained.

“Wait a minute,” Dominique said. She put her hands on her hips. “Are you asking me out?”

Forrest nodded. “Bad idea?”

Dominique shook her head. “Excellent idea. I could use some cheering up. Or should we be celebrating? I have no idea.”

The meal was creamed spinach and corned beef hash on toast, not exactly swanky restaurant fare, but they each claimed one of the remaining bottles of beer in their ration, and Dominique found herself excited by the idea of a shift in their relationship. Any change was welcome, but even if they weren’t trapped in this arctic hell, Dominique would have liked this guy.

“Did you hear Barry shot a walrus?” Forrest asked. On the way over they’d agreed not to talk about the resistance. All anyone ever talked about was what was going on through Earth2. There’d be plenty of time for that when the others arrived for dinner.

“I didn’t. How nice. I mean, nice that we’ll have fresh meat.” She tilted her head. “Do walruses have meat, or just blubber?”

“Mostly blubber, I think.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever had blubber.”

“It’s considered a delicacy in some cultures,” Forrest said.

Dominique grinned. “What cultures are those?”

Forrest cleared his throat, shrugged. “I can’t list any specific cultures, but rest assured, it’s a delicacy in some cultures.”

Laughing, Dominique put her hand over Forrest’s, which was resting on the table. He looked down at their hands, turned his over, spread his fingers.

“So what was it like, studying at COGE?”

Dominique turned her gaze toward the low foam-tiled ceiling. “Weird. Exciting, but weird.”

“You really weren’t allowed to leave the island?”

“Not for the first three years. I was in a college run by the equivalent of the CIA. They were teaching us things the US government denied it knew how to do.”

Forrest shook his head. “How times have changed. It’s hard to imagine there were such hard, fast lines between countries back then. State secrets. Cold wars. It all seems stupid now.”

The door flew open; Dominique and Forrest quickly unclasped their hands, as if they’d been caught doing something wrong.

It was the president. “We think the defenders have infiltrated Earth2.”

Both Dominique and Forrest leaped from their chairs and followed Wood through the supply room, into the operations room. Nora was at the computer. Dominique watched over her shoulder as she controlled Island Rain. Rain was in a bar, speaking to two male avatars. One was dressed in a black ninja outfit, the other in jeans and a T-shirt. Both were clearly newbies, given their generic appearance and the stiffness of their movements.

Nora glanced up at Dominique. “I have a very bad feeling about these two, but you’d know better than I.”

We both have military training. I’m conversant in all manner of explosives, and Daniel was a Navy SEAL. We’re ready and eager to strike at the enemy.

Dominique pressed her hands to her face. “Oh, shit,” she whispered.

“What should I reply?” Nora asked.

Dominique just stood there, her mind not working.

“Dominique? What should I reply? Something that’ll tell us for sure.”

“We can’t know for sure, but—” She cursed under her breath. “Give them an opportunity to brag, or try to piss them off.”

Nora typed. You don’t sound intelligent enough to be Special Forces and Navy SEAL. Are you sure I’m not talking to two kids playing G.I. Joe?

There was an inordinately long pause, during which no one in the room said a word, or even breathed heavily. Finally, a reply came.

My IQ is 147. Daniel’s is 139. If you suspect there’s a child in this conversation, check the mirror.

“Shit,” Dominique nearly shouted. “Oh, holy Christ.”

“You’re sure?” the president asked.

“They’re defenders. The awkward phrasing, the arrogance.” She gestured at the avatars. “The IQs he mentioned are right in the defender range.” She stared at President Wood, the implications sinking in. The defenders could locate them.

“Everyone be ready to leave in one hour,” Wood said. “Fuel the plane. Concentrate on packing survival gear—we’ll have to land and ditch the plane before we reach defender territory.”

Zipping her coat as she ran, Dominique headed for her quarters to get packed.