Mom gives me one of her looks—the one that means Clearly something is up and I know it and you know I know but I won’t call you on it yet. “Hurry up. Don’t forget, you’ve got that big test today.”
Big test? Crap. Apparently the holidays don’t cut you much time off from school on a science station. But that’s the least of my concerns.
With one final glance at Dad, I leave the cafeteria and head back down to the residence levels of the station. I’m pretty sure I remember where we live. Even though my father’s in charge here, our suite of rooms seems to be exactly like everybody else’s—tiny bedrooms, and one combination kitchen/den that is just big enough to be comfortable but not one square inch bigger. Honestly, besides the fact that it’s underwater, our home here looks totally ordinary; we have cans of Coke in the fridge, and Josie’s flip-flops are by the front door, like always.
I take up my tablet computer to start my searches, then stop and stare at it. The logo reads ConTech . . . which was Wyatt Conley’s company in the London dimension. And, apparently, in this dimension too. How far does his influence reach?
Surely not to the Coral Sea. The tension in my chest relaxes slightly as I realize Conley can’t get at me easily, not here.
Is that why Paul chose this dimension? Because it’s safe from Conley? Here, scientists have directed all their energies toward adapting humanity to life in and on water. That means Mom hasn’t invented the Firebird technology—so Conley wouldn’t have much reason to travel here himself.
Yet that answer doesn’t feel quite right.
Paul’s purpose remains maddeningly opaque. Whatever brought him here, to this dimension—that, apparently, is too big for him to speak about.
I’ve chosen to trust Paul, but that doesn’t make it any easier to do without the answers.
So far the station’s Wi-Fi is still working perfectly. I type in a search for “Paul Markov, physicist” . . . then backspace and replace it with, “Paul Markov, oceanographer.” That’s the subject all the best and brightest will study in this world.
Paul turns out to be doing his doctoral research on a vessel taking deepwater samples in the Pacific, though I can’t find out exactly where. He could be only a couple of hours away, or across half the planet. I ping his account on his ship, but he must not be in front of his computer. So I tap the screen to record a video message.
“Hi, Paul. It’s me. I mean, it’s really me.” I hook one thumb under the chain of my Firebird, so he can see it. “I’m safe here, and I’m with my family, so—you don’t have to worry on my account. Looks like you’re doing all right too. I might not have internet access for long, though. When you get this, call, okay?”
I hope Paul’s just had a reminder when he sees that. Otherwise, he’s going to be incredibly confused.
Theo turns out to be studying in Australia, in a harbor city called New Perth that’s about two hundred miles inland from where Perth used to be. I ping him, too, and even though it must be the wee hours of the morning where he is, he answers almost instantly. His face takes shape on the screen—hair rumpled, plenty of stubble—and he immediately says, “You stole my car.”
“Hi to you, too.” I can’t resist a grin.
“What the hell was that about? One minute I’m telling Conley how great you are, the next minute you’re peeling out of the parking lot.” Theo looks pissed off, and I know it’s not the car he’s angry about. “Tell me you didn’t go to meet Paul.”
“I went to meet Paul.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“You were wrong about him, Theo. He finally explained what’s really been happening, with Conley and with—” I can’t bring myself to say, with me. Saying that I’m Conley’s true target makes it all too real. “It’s complicated. It would be better if I could tell you all this in person. Do you think you could get here? It’s not so far.”
“It’s thousands of miles, Meg. You need to brush up on your geography.” Theo leans backward, thumping his head against the wall. His wrinkled T-shirt is, once again, the Gears; the Beatles must have not quite made it to this dimension either. “But yeah. I can get there. Looks like science stations and oceanography institutes all work together pretty tightly in this dimension. If I radio in, say I’ve been on an observation flight or cruise, and I need a berth, they’ll take me in. Now all I have to do is find one of those.”
If anybody is resourceful enough to pull that off, it’s Theo. I grin at him. “Fantastic.”
“Is Paul there with you?” Theo says shortly.
“No. He’s on a research vessel.” This is the first time I’ve had more information than Theo, and I can tell he doesn’t like being in the dark. Still, I can’t blame him for being impatient for answers. Even though I agreed to take Paul on faith a while longer, I’m past ready to find out what else is going on.