There’s a long pause. Nari Kim beckons again, smiling. “It’s all right.”
A figure moves into frame, rendered in the same duotone lines of holographic light. Her hair is long and curling, mostly silver or white, her skin wrinkled with age.
I don’t recognize her at first. Then Nari murmurs encouragement, and the newcomer turns her head toward her, and I catch a glimpse of …
… It can’t be.
Earrings with hawk charms dangling from them.
And as she takes her seat in front of the recorder, I begin to realize …
The woman looks up at the lens, and I see her lashes are shining with tears. And I recognize her then, despite the impossibility of it all, despite the gulf of time and tracks of sorrow etched at the edges of her eyes.
“Zila … ,” I whisper.
“Hello, Tyler.”
She pauses, as if gathering herself. She seems so small. Tinier even than I remember. Beside her, Nari squeezes her hand. And buoyed by that touch, Zila finds some well of strength, breathes deep, and begins to speak.
“If you are watching this, you have survived past the point of my departure, and have entered the realm of absolute uncertainty. I am very happy you survived your captivity among the GIA. Hopefully this means my gift to you was of some use. Forgive me if it was not one hundred percent adequate. I was working with a near-infinite number of variables.”
She frowns, rubbing her brow as if pained.
“During the Battle of Terra, when the Eshvaren Weapon was fired, a collision of psychic energies and temporal distortion hurled me, Finian, and your sister, Scarlett, back in time, to the year 2177.”
My eyes go wide and I look at Adams, but he’s only watching the holo. From his look of intense interest, I’d guess he’s never seen this before.
“Due to events too complex to bore you with,” Zila continues, “I was forced to remain behind in this era. It has fallen to me, along with Battle Leader de Karran and Nari, to pave the way for future events, and for the eventual struggle with the Ra’haam. We have done our very best to ensure that all happens exactly as it did. As it should. As it must, for Aurora to recover the Eshvaren Weapon and use it against the enemy. But …”
Zila’s voice falters. She looks down at her hands, swallowing hard. The Zila Madran I knew was a girl who lived behind walls. Who kept herself shielded from the world by logic, cut off from her emotions, cold and clinical.
But she’s crying now, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I see Nari Kim’s hand reach out again, her arm slip around Zila’s shoulders, pulling her in tight, and she kisses her cheek, her knuckles, her lips. Even through this ancient tech, these thin glowing lines, I can see the love in her eyes, feel tears stinging in mine as I realize what they must have meant to each other. That my friend found someone who mattered so much.
“Just speak from your heart, love,” Nari says.
Zila looks to the camera again, her voice shaking.
“I am so s-sorry, Tyler,” she whispers. “About Cat. I tried for years to think of an alternative. Some way to spare her that fate. I have dreaded the day when I would have to speak these words to you. But the potential for calamity, a paradoxical butterfly effect that would irrevocably alter the timeline …” She sniffs thickly, swallows hard. “We could n-not risk it. Without me here, there would be no one to help Nari to form the Legion, to ensure you met Aurora, to protect you on Emerald City. Nobody to safeguard the future. For us to ensure the Ra’haam’s defeat, everything needed to happen exactly as it did, up to the moment I left your timeline.” She shakes her head, her eyes imploring. “Everything.”
Zila lowers her chin, hair tumbling over her face.
“I have lived my life as best I could.” She squeezes Nari’s hand. “I have found happiness. I have worked hard, seen places and met people who bring me joy. My squad was my second family, after I lost my first, and I have devoted my life to preparing what you will need—but there have been adventures as well. Laughter. I have found a third family here, beyond all expectation. I think you will worry, now you know where I am. I want you to know that I have been happy. But please know as well that there is not a day that passes I do not think of Cat, and what I helped bring about.”
She lifts her head again. Looking at me across the centuries.
“I ask for your forgiveness. I hope you understand I did it all for the best, and know that through this sacrifice, we have safeguarded a future for the galaxy. The path ahead of you is uncertain. I do not know what is to come. But I know I am grateful to have known you, Tyler. Honored to have served under you. And I feel blessed beyond measure to have called you my friend.”
I reach out to the image, tears spilling down my face as my fingers pass through it. I think about what it must have been, to live with that weight. The burden of the galaxy’s future on your shoulders.
“Zee,” I whisper. “Of course I forgive you.”
“Commander,” Nari says, addressing the air. “I trust you are listening. You may now access Omega Protocol, Nodes 6 through 15. Ensure Node 10 is delivered to Aurora O’Malley personally. You may also access the facilities on Epsilon Deck, Section Zero. Passcodes to follow. Please follow all instructions exactly. The lives of two very brave soldiers are at stake.”
“I believe our calculations are correct,” Zila says. “And enough time has now elapsed from our disappearance to ensure no paradox events.” She nods, almost to herself, chewing a lock of her hair just like she used to when lost in thought. “Yes. Yes, it will work. It must work.”
Nari Kim looks back to me, a smile crinkling her eyes.
“Punch that bleach-head in the arm for me, Jones. And tell your sister thanks. Good hunting, legionnaire. Burn bright against the night.”
Zila looks into the projection, reaching out toward me.
My fingers touch hers, back across an ocean of time and tears.
“Farewell, my friend,” she smiles.
And the recording ends.
“Dammit … ,” Adams growls.
I look up at him, my eye blurred with tears, my mind reeling with everything I’ve learned. The impossibility, the enormity—it’s almost too much to wrap my head around. But the look in Adams’s eyes is enough to drag me back to reality, away from conspiracies centuries in the making, suffered heartache and hard-won joy. I sniff hard, wipe my sodden cheeks.
“What is it?”
Adams is staring at the holoplayer, his face a grim mask. The images of Zila and Nari Kim have disappeared, replaced by a scrolling stream of passcodes. “I’ll have to review the new data we’ve just unlocked. But from the way they were talking … I think it’s just as we’ve feared.”
“Look, I don’t know what the hells is happening here, but—”
“It’s like Founder Madran said, Tyler.” Adams speaks Zila’s name with something close to reverence. The way a minister speaks about the Maker.
They think of her as the Third Founder, I realize.
“She only knew for certain what happened up to the Battle of Terra,” Adams continues. “The point where she was stripped from this timeline. For all her genius, Zila Madran couldn’t actually see the future. She only remembered what she’d already seen. So she couldn’t have known.”
“About the plot on Aurora Station?”
He nods. “But not just that. All our contingencies, all the planning we have in place from this point forward to ensure the defeat of the Ra’haam, revolved around the Trigger and the Weapon.”
He drags one metal hand across his stubbled scalp.
“And they’re gone,” I breathe. “Vanished at the Battle of Terra.”