expression.
“Are you serious?” he asked with a mixture of hope and disbelief.
“Deadly.”
“They agreed to attack the conclave?”
Patrick and I shared looks.
“Not yet,” I admitted. “That’s my next stop.”
Mark winced. My boast of leading an overwhelming attack force suddenly appeared not only crazy, but hollow. I figured it was time to let him know exactly where we stood. With everything.
I had briefly explained it before, but this time I laid it all out in detail. For the next hour Patrick and I told him about Solara and the force of spirit that helped guide mankind. We explained how Saint Dane corrupted that spirit into giving him the power to create a new universe. I even explained our plan to create a flume that would bring the exiles to Third Earth. We told him everything. Mark didn’t question a word. I think that as incredible a story as it was, we were filling in the blanks that had been confounding him since he was fourteen years old. He had been just as involved with this war as I had. He understood. He accepted. Mark Dimond was up to speed.
When I finished, the first thing he said was, “So whatever chance we have, we owe to Nevva Winter.”
“Without her, the exiles would be dead and so would Halla.”
He shook his head in dismay. “That may be the most incredible thing you’ve told me. Nevva Winter. Geez.”
“Kinda makes you think there might still be hope for mankind, doesn’t it?”
Patrick added, “But we still have to convince the exiles. Without them, none of this works.”
We let Mark work the information over in his head. I knew him. He was calculating possibilities.
“How long?” he asked.
“No idea. But I’m thinking that if they’re moving dados, Saint Dane is getting ready to make that flume and move on Eelong.”
“Doing recon is cake,” he said. “If something happens, you’ll know it.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” I said.
“It’s not all you’re going to get,” Mark added.
“Excuse me?” Patrick asked.
“You see how we live. Hiding, running, wondering when a helicopter might show up to blow us away. We live like rats waiting to be exterminated. Up until now we’ve only thought about survival. I can tell you, if given the chance to strike back, we’re going to take it.”
“We’re not asking you to put your friends or any of the rebels on the line,” I said. “Your weapons will be welcome, but I can’t ask you to risk your lives.”
Mark laughed. “Risk our lives? This is no life! Bobby, you’re looking at a bunch of people who’ve lost hope. Hearing what you’re saying is the first ray of light we’ve seen in a very long time. Do you think for one second that if there’s a chance to fight for ourselves, no matter how impossible it may seem, we wouldn’t go for it?”
I felt like I was being watched. Looking around, I saw that several of Mark’s grungy rebel friends had been hanging around, eavesdropping. At least twenty men and women stood to the rear of one of the helicopters, staring at us. They heard every word we were saying.
“Is it true?” I called to them. “Are you willing to attack the conclave?”
They exchanged tentative looks. At first I thought it was because they weren’t sure how to answer. I quickly realized it was more about deciding who would be the one to speak. Finally a girl stepped forward. It was Maddie, the crazy cabdriver. Her eyes blazed.
“Say when” was her simple answer.
Patrick smiled. “Looking better all the time.”
Mark was all business. “We can offer more than reconnaissance. We’ve been making plans to cause some trouble on our own. Maybe they can fit in with yours.”
I looked around at the eager faces of the rebels and answered, “At the risk of losing any faith you might have in us, there is no real attack plan. We’re figuring this out as we go along. So if you’ve got any ideas…”
Mark looked at his friends. I expected to see disappointment all around. Just the opposite happened. They seemed even more charged up than before.
Mark said, “Maybe I should tell you what we’ve been planning.”
He went ahead and detailed a series of guerrilla attacks they had planned to carry out on the conclave. They didn’t expect them to be any more than a nuisance to the Ravinians, but coupled with the addition of an able-bodied army, these small-scale attacks suddenly felt like they could be the foundation of a very large-scale invasion.
We shared our own ideas on how we might be able to pull off the impossible. After batting around all the ideas, we came up with a plan.
“It could work,” Mark said. “It relies on a lot, but it could work.”
“It has to work,” I added.
“I’ll call in every last able-bodied person within a fifty-mile radius and start the wheels in motion,” Mark explained. “We have weapons stored all over Manhattan. Will the exiles be armed?”
“They have portable weapons that neutralize dados” was my answer.
Mark’s eyes lit up. He looked at his friends. They were just as impressed.
“Those would be handy,” he said, understating the obvious. “Not worried about mixing territories?”
“Not anymore,” I answered. “The Convergence has made Halla one under Saint Dane’s thumb.”
Patrick asked Mark, “Where should we gather? Seventy thousand people need a lot of room.”
Mark thought for a moment, then said, “Most of our weapons are stored downtown. I think the best rallying spot is Washington Square Park.”
“Done,” I said. “That’s where we’ll create this end of the flume.”
“Assuming you can,” Mark said, letting a bit of skepticism show. “And that you can convince the exiles to join up.”
“We can,” Patrick said with supreme confidence. “And we will.”
Patrick Mac had come a long way from being the tentative teacher who lived the perfect life on Third Earth. Maybe more so than any of us, his world had been turned upside down. While all of us witnessed the social upheavals caused by Ravinia on our homes, Patrick’s territory had gone through the most dramatic change. There were times when I worried that he could keep it together. But he always met each challenge head-on. Being able to work through his fears proved that, in many ways, Patrick was the bravest of us all.
Patrick and I left Mark and his people to begin making preparations. We stepped outside for one moment alone.
“Looks like you were right,” I said to him.
“About what?” Patrick asked.
“It’s come down to Third Earth. The last territory. It really is your turn.”
Patrick got a faraway look in his eye. I believe that for those few moments, his head went back to what Third Earth was before. His true home. The way it was meant to be. He came back to reality with a look in his eye that was as determined as I’d ever seen from him.
“Then I guess I’d better make the most of it,” he said, almost cocky.
The Traveler from Third Earth was ready to go.
I had one more moment with Mark. My friend and I had been through so much, together and apart, even before I had become a Traveler. He was my oldest friend. He was my brother.
“So… she’s okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s good. Better than good. You can ask her yourself pretty soon.”
“You think she’ll come here with the exiles?” he asked, daring to hope.
I laughed. “Are you serious? We’re talking about Courtney, right?”
Mark laughed too. “Yeah, dumb question. She’ll probably lead the way.”
The two of us looked at each other. Neither knew what to say. Instead, we hugged.
“You know something,” he said softly. “The memory of our life back at home is the only thing that’s kept me going.”
“I know. I think that goes for everybody.” “I miss it.” “Me too.”
“Are we going to win this one?” he whispered, so none of the others could hear.
