79

Oliver Bowen

December 28, 2047 (two months later). Washington, D.C.

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

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

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

“The same way you got my address.”

“Ah. Of course.”

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

“Yes, he has. Thanks for intervening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It certainly feels like a lifetime.”

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

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

“We certainly have.”

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

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

“I am, too. You have no idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. That would be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly.

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

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

Defenders
cover.html
fm001.html
alsoby.html
copyright.html
contents.html
dedication.html
part001.html
prologue.html
chapter001.html
chapter002.html
chapter003.html
chapter004.html
chapter005.html
chapter006.html
chapter007.html
chapter008.html
chapter009.html
chapter010.html
chapter011.html
chapter012.html
chapter013.html
chapter014.html
chapter015.html
chapter016.html
chapter017.html
chapter018.html
chapter019.html
chapter020.html
chapter021.html
chapter022.html
chapter023.html
chapter024.html
chapter025.html
chapter026.html
chapter027.html
chapter028.html
chapter029.html
part002.html
chapter030.html
chapter031.html
chapter032.html
chapter033.html
chapter034.html
chapter035.html
chapter036.html
chapter037.html
chapter038.html
chapter039.html
chapter040.html
chapter041.html
chapter042.html
chapter043.html
chapter044.html
chapter045.html
chapter046.html
chapter047.html
chapter048.html
chapter049.html
chapter050.html
chapter051.html
chapter052.html
chapter053.html
chapter054.html
chapter055.html
chapter056.html
chapter057.html
chapter058.html
chapter059.html
chapter060.html
chapter061.html
chapter062.html
chapter063.html
part003.html
chapter064.html
chapter065.html
chapter066.html
chapter067.html
chapter068.html
chapter069.html
chapter070.html
chapter071.html
chapter072.html
chapter073.html
chapter074.html
chapter075.html
chapter076.html
chapter077.html
chapter078.html
chapter079.html
chapter080.html
chapter081.html
chapter082.html
chapter083.html
chapter084.html
chapter085.html
chapter086.html
chapter087.html
chapter088.html
chapter089.html
chapter090.html
epilogue.html
acknowledgments.html
bm001.html
abouttheauthor.html
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