Read Online Convergence by Alex Albrinck - Free Book Online Page B

comfort as best she could, but recognized no words would soothe his soul. He’d get comfort only when this war they’d initiated ended.
    The train at long last slowed to a halt. They waited, anticipation mounting, as the human passengers disembarked. The flecks of light then flew up and away from the train again, ringing the Plaza surrounding the mammoth Headquarters monolith. Will checked his positioning against the flecks of light visible on his visor, ensuring proper spacing. He then pulled the shovel and first disk from the pack on his back and set to work. It was, he thought, like planting a seed for a giant tree. He, and the others digging in silence around the Plaza, would not be the ones who’d directly benefit from their work. It would be others, people who might never know their names or motivations, who’d owe their future safety, happiness, and survival to their work. It helped ease his mind of the unbearable guilt somewhat. At least some good would come of their work here today.
    He felt a wave of nostalgia, remembering those who’d sacrificed everything to help them reach this point. The dozens of Alliance who’d toiled in silence, maintaining the secret of his birth, all so that he and Hope could meet and bear the children who’d rescue him and send him to the past. Those men and women would receive no thanks for their sacrifice. Will had gone to the distant past with his memory of their actions, scant though they were, erased from his mind. In many ways, it was the ultimate cruelty, to force those who’d benefit from your good deeds forcibly prevented from remembering those deeds. Yet they’d done it. Perhaps it was altruism. Perhaps they’d simply attracted to the Alliance people who’d, by their nature, step forward when the world needed volunteers for a thankless, dangerous mission. Perhaps it was practical, and they’d offered assistance knowing that Will’s survival and the births of Josh—Fil—and Angel were the key to their own altered existences. They’d fought for the right to be discovered in Will’s past and become part of the magical experience of life with the Alliance.
    He wiped an invisible tear from his eye. He needed to save the reminiscing for the day when all of the fighting ended.
    He tapped the dirt down atop the final disk. At this point, the only risk was the Porthos issue Hope had witnessed the day before. They’d discussed the issue in depth, and decided not to scrap this phase or alter it at this late date. It might destroy the effects of this particular phase of work—Will tamped down the dirt covering a disk and moved to the next spot—but the benefits outweighed the risks. They had their contingency plan in place. Hope’s quick thinking in having Porthos wipe the gel from his hands might make the concern moot, after all.
    He needed to remain positive. It was all he could do. For the first time in centuries, they had no memory videos of the coming hours and days to tell them that the sacrifice and the risks would be worth it. They had no means to determine who would live and who would die. It was both terrifying and delightfully freeing, a true walk into the unknown. He suspected it was the reason he’d been outvoted on the cloning option; people wanted something other than a memory deciding their fate.
    Will listened. One by one, he counted as each member of the team reported completion, letting him know that they’d completed tilling their own plot of land with the strangest “seeds” ever planted. He counted down, checked in with those running late. The “digging” phase was now complete.
    He’d not heard from the thirty-first member of the team, though.
    Will pulled the tablet computer from his pouch inside the expanded nanoskeleton and checked his communications link. It had been quite a feat getting their own private virtual data network running here on Headquarters Island, and a greater feat to keep it a secret from the prying eyes of the Aliomenti.