Cloud Rebel: R-D 3 (30 page)

"Her life is her own," Valegar stated flatly and disappeared.

* * *

Corinne

The reason time hadn't flowed backward to before the missiles were fired was because they'd been scheduled to fire anyway. If Fisk and company hadn't done it, then Liron intended to see it done. Therefore, those events hadn't changed. The cause had merely shifted to another set of shoulders.

That's why Earth was still a smoking ruin after nuclear Armageddon had arrived. The situation was tricky enough-that fact made it worse. Those humans who'd survived were huddled in the safest place they could find, praying for deliverance. I wanted to weep for all of them. Tightening my resolve, I stepped through the door.

I found the Phillips clone, a Hal Prentice clone and a Merle Askins clone, ironically playing poker with Liron, who was still disguised as Agent Smith. I released my shield, becoming visible to all present before lifting a hand and freezing Phillips, Askins and Prentice inside a tight shield.

"I can release them, you know," Liron tossed away his disguise. I admit, the fact that he had white wings threw me for a moment.

"I'll separate their particles," I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I know you can't bring back the dead. Only a handful can do that. You're not one of them."

"I can destroy you," he said. I noticed his eyes were a pale brown and his hair matched his eyes-for the most part. Strands of gold, copper and silver threaded through his thick mane, making him more than unusual. That, combined with his white wings, made him appear to be a creature from a myth or fairy tale.

"You know what will happen if you destroy a Larentii," I retorted, attempting to force my anger to the surface. "Your life won't be worth the dust on your feet when the One shows up."

"Hmmph. You think I care about that?" He was calling my bluff.

"What you should care about is the people of Fyris," I upped the ante. "I know about them. Hell, there's a whole section in the Larentii Archives about them. The Avii, too. I see you made the Avii in your image." I inclined my head and pretended to give him the once-over.

"Larentii do not interfere," he snorted and started to turn away.

"This Larentii already has." I sent images, then, of me bringing DB into the Grand Chamber of the Lyristolyi-in the past. I'd wiped out an entire root of the timeline tree when I'd done that. "Didn't you feel it? I sure as hell did. It's why you had to launch the missiles yourself."

"That was you?" He turned back to me quickly.

"That was me," I jerked my chin down in a half-nod. "This is what I have planned for the races you've created, if you don't get the hell away from here and erase your existence from Earth's timeline.
Any
of Earth's timelines."

I showed him Siriaa-the planet where the Avii and the Fyrians resided. I also showed him the images of it withering and dying, people, animals, everything.

"You wouldn't-Larentii do not," he began, before stopping and blinking at me.

"I know about the poison," I said. "How do you think the Alliance will react if they learn you're growing that foul mess in Fyris, waiting for the day when your superior asks for it? You know it was designed to destroy everything. It already destroyed Ranos. How about I send mindspeech to everyone in the Alliance, telling them where to find Siriaa? How long do you expect your people to last when that happens?"

"No," he held up a hand and backed away.

"Remove yourself from Earth's timeline. I know you're powerful enough to do it. Hide yourself if you want, but I'd go back in time far enough to fool your superior. You seem clever enough. I'm sure you'll come up with something."

"You won't kill my people," he attempted to call my bluff again.

"Try me," I said. "I have nothing else to lose at this point. You leave or they die. Choose quickly; I'm tired of waiting."

I saw images flit through his mind, then, of possible answers to the dilemma I presented.

No, he didn't want to die-especially at the hands of the One. He also wanted to ensure the safety of the two races he'd created. I threatened them.

Without a word, he disappeared.

Yes, I waited and
Looked
, to make sure he'd left the timeline completely. Another jolt came-a bigger one, this time, and I watched as his place at the poker table disappeared.

I felt beyond weary, then, and knew I'd have to recharge. Just before Kalenegar arrived to take me into custody while he shouted in mindspeech that the Council had declared my death sentence, I released Phillips, Askins and Prentice before folding space to get away.

* * *

Larentii Archives

Nefrigar, Chief Archivist

Valegar had hidden himself among the stacks and shelves containing Earth's history. Parts of it were now dark; other parts flickered, as if in flux.

They were in flux
, I reminded myself.

Corinne had been declared a rebel and an outcast by the Larentii Council. Kalenegar had aligned with them.

Valegar tasted the bitterness of depression and regret, choosing to do nothing to reset certain levels in his body to reject those things. I worried about my son. If things became worse, I intended to call his brothers.

With all of us working together, we would set everything right.

For now, however, Val and I mourned.

We mourned Corinne, who could be destroyed by any Larentii the next time she was found.

We mourned for Val's unborn child, too, who should have had Corinne as a mother. Someday, perhaps, Val could locate a found mother-one the Wise Ones thought suitable. I found it strange, however, that the Wise Ones had refrained from passing judgment on Corinne, remaining silent instead on her deeds as well as her future.

A part of me wondered at that.

The other one we hadn't heard from was Breanne-or any of the Mighty.

Sighing, I sent comforting thoughts to my son and walked away.

* * *

Corinne

The next part of my plan pivoted on timing. Everything had to be just so, in order to achieve the proper result. A miscalculation at this point could allow the drug and some of its recipients to slip through, only to create destruction on Earth again.

I couldn't let that happen.

D.C. was my next stop, after I fed.

* * *

Opal

I had a shield in place around the villa, or it would have been affected, too. Outside, the sun blinked on and off like a pulsar, as time ran backward. Tentatively, I
Looked
, testing the waters outside our small island.

Lives, buildings, countries-so many things fell and rose, died and lived in the strangest planetary disco anyone could imagine. It hurt to look at it after a few seconds.

"Stay in the house and draw all the curtains," I told James and Nathan, who'd wandered onto the terrace. "If you don't, it may cause madness."

"Don't look," I snapped as both attempted to turn and do just that. I ended up folding them inside the house and slamming shutters and curtains closed on every window. Earth was now a runaway horse heading for a cliff. I hoped there wasn't a sudden stop waiting for us at the end.

"Corinne, please be right," I muttered as I locked the villa against escape by its inhabitants.

* * *

Corinne

I'd been forced off-planet to feed-I hadn't realized what would happen when two timelines were destroyed, one right after the other. At least the wild disco had stopped by the time I'd fed and slept on Tulgalan.

Before I went back, I'd been forced to determine the day for me to appear-a day when I was assured I'd have time alone with the real, original President Phillips. The one who was neck-deep in his nefarious plans, but not so far into them that the drug had been given to too many and before the clones he'd ordered practically covered the earth.

Eventually I made a choice-I knew just the day.

The day before my husband and I had walked into the Louvre, thinking we were going to see famous works of art we'd never seen in person.

The real Phillips still sat in the President's chair at that time; it was by his command that I'd been given the drug.

All I needed was a short amount of time to see what he knew, who he knew was involved with the drug and where, in both Russia and the U.S., it was hidden. If all went well, I intended to take care of those things.

If you continue with this madness
, Kal's voice hissed in my mind,
you will set things in motion that you cannot comprehend
.

I love you, too
, I replied and folded space.

* * *

Opal

When the dust settled, I unlocked the doors. All of us walked outside. James carried his cell phone, which was now tuned to a U.S. news program.

Everything appeared normal.

"Can we go home, now?" Nathan asked.

"Corinne isn't finished," I said. "You need to wait a little longer."

"Cori's doing this?" James whirled to face me.

"She's trying to make it right."

"Will it be right?" Leo Shaw asked.

"Only history will say for sure," I shrugged.

* * *

Corinne

He-Phillips-sat at his desk, reading a bill and acting perfectly normal. He hadn't become Sirenali, yet. I studied him for nearly an hour as he turned pages, scanning the thick document.

That's when the real Hal Prentice wandered in and settled on a guest chair.

"Everything's in place for tomorrow-those paintings may as well be ours already," Phillips said without looking up.

"Will he keep his end of the bargain? We need those weapons designs sent to the proper location. His people will do the testing for us and make sure everything works before we go into full production."

"Don't worry," Phillips turned a page. "It's all taken care of."

"Minimum loss of life at the museum?"

"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs," Phillips mumbled. "We have to make this look real. Without those deaths, it won't look real. Everyone will think those paintings destroyed, and on live television, too. As for the crown and other things, those are already in our possession. It's what he wanted, to ensure his cooperation."

I'd heard enough.

"Well, hello, boys," I said, revealing the taller, bluer me.

"What the hell?" Prentice scrambled out of his seat and backed toward the President's desk.

"Oh, I'm a drug survivor-from your future," I replied. "Except it won't be from your future, now." Before Phillips could fire the gun he'd drawn from a desk drawer, I separated their particles.

I may have laughed while I did it. I can't really say.

* * *

That afternoon and evening, I lost count of the people I destroyed. Either by separating particles or by remote killing, the talent I'd had in my first incarnation. For those who'd received the drug that I didn't want to kill, their blood was neutralized. I didn't want Nick or Maye clones running around anywhere.

As for Becker, he was still a bully. The autopsy report claimed his death was due to an unusual blood clot in the brain. I didn't waste more time on him than that.

Richard Farrell, though, I had to think a long time about him. He ended up being the only one I went back to the beginning for. I neutralized the stash of drug he had to experiment on himself.

That meant he was very, very old where and when I was at the moment.

Every jolt that unsettled the timeline after I interfered-I received angry mindspeech from Kalenegar. I knew what he wasn't saying, though.

He wasn't saying that I was marked for death if any Larentii found me. I'd known all along it would come to that. I already had a plan in place, just as Phillips did.

Like Phillips, too, nothing would stop those he'd paid to show up at the Louvre the following day.

It was my final act-before the curtain closed.

I figured Kal would eventually figure it out and show up to take me. That's why I had to maneuver around him. I still had something to do and nobody was going to stop me.

* * *

I'd never gotten to see the grand works of art in the Louvre-the attack had happened shortly after our arrival. We'd arranged to be included in a guided tour, so we and those poor souls with us had already been marked for death by Phillips and his horde.

This time, I'd taken a private tour while heavily shielded, just so I could see the things I hadn't before. I'd already viewed the
Mona Lisa
and many, many other things. The painting that caught my attention, however, was
The Funeral of Phocion
, by Nicholas Poussin.

I stood feet away, studying it. Phocion, a politician often known as Phocion the Good, had lived a frugal, quiet life as an Athenian Statesman. Eventually, however, he'd fallen out of favor and been sentenced to death by a new regime.