Questions and personal thoughts he had of the Quasing and the war dribbled out of Cameron like a running faucet. It was the same with Alex. The two of them viewed the Quasing civil war from an entirely different angle than the adults, and they both had a desperate need to talk to someone who might understand. Before the night was over, way past the time they were supposed to be back home, Cameron felt like he had never known someone so well as he knew Alex.
“We should head back,” he said, standing up and helping her to her feet. Together, they climbed down the tree and made their way back toward the farmhouse. This time, as they made their way through the pitch-black forest, Alexandra held Cameron’s hand.
“Hello, Tabs.” Tao stood at the doorway to Alex’s room.
Jill had offered to move all the refugees up to the farmhouse. Vladimir and Rin, feeling more secure underground with escape routes, declined to come up to the civilized world and stayed in their cells. Ohr and Alexandra had leaped at the chance. The old Korean senator complained about how the dank underground made his bones ache, while the girl just wanted a little space between her and her father.
“Tao,” Tabs said, sitting her sleeping host up. “I was expecting you.”
“Oh?” Tao moved Cameron into the room and sat at the end of the bed. “I honestly never thought I would be in this situation.”
“And which one is that?” Tabs said. “The one where you and I, two extremes of our faction, are talking through slumbering vessels, or that we are actually talking and not trying to stab each other.”
“You still have not forgiven me for the Mexican War, have you?”
“You buried my vessel neck-deep and left him for the vultures. I am pretty sure I never will.”
“Sorry.” Tao shrugged, not sorry at all. “War is hell. What did you end up inhabiting next anyway?”
“A vulture.”
“Ah, makes sense. How long did that keep you out of the war?”
“Part of the reason I will never forgive you.”
“Excellent.”
“So to what do I owe this pleasure, then?”
Tao squared up Cameron’s body so it faced Alex directly. “There are some things occurring between our two hosts that I do not approve of. What are you trying to pull?”
Tabs gave an innocent shrug with a mischievous glint in her eye. “I do not know what you are claiming. After all, are we not on the same side now?”
“Maybe. I can believe Ladm would find a conscience. You finding one would be a surprise.”
“I do not care what you think of me, Tao. I do not think much of you. You are as rabid an animal as Zoras and Chiyva. They just seem much better at it than you. To be honest, if our sources are correct, most Prophus do not think much of you either.” She held up a finger. “First of all, my previous vessel was killed by Enzo and his minions. I take offense to that. You should know how much I take offense to that.” She held up another finger. “Secondly, I am not sold on this planet being ready for Quasiform. Perhaps next century, but certainly not now.”
Tao processed Tabs’s words. Knowing Tabs’s history and personality, it made sense. Tabs was just as attached to her host as any Quasing was, and Enzo had had Marta assassinated. Her motives aligned with her actions. Maybe his judgment was just being clouded by their centuries of animosity.
“What will you do for the Prophus, then? What do you plan next?” he asked.
Tabs smiled. “Nothing. I will not lift a hand to help the Prophus. However, I am going to take a rest from the war and spectate from the sidelines. And since Enzo does not believe in neutrality…” Tabs made a magnanimous gesture with her arms. “Here I am. I would like to raise Alexandra in peace until she can fulfill her potential as an Adonis Vessel. Is that so far a stretch?”
He leaned in, shaking a finger. “What you say is plausible, but I will have my eye on you. Do not even think about betraying us. You know my reputation.”
“And a vicious reputation it is,” Tabs said mockingly. “That is what makes you so unbearable at Decennials.”
“And if you think I will allow your host to have sway over mine…”
Tabs puckered up and blew him a kiss. “Oh Tao, she already has.”
17 Scout Team
Timestamp: 2788
Sadly, my vacation in Hawaii came to an abrupt end. In the middle of the night, a squad of Prophus transferred me to a secret long-term care facility to finish my rehab. It seemed the government wanted to haul me in for questioning. Thus, my life as a fugitive officially began.
After I recovered, I snuck onto a cruise ship headed for Mexico and paid a coyote to ferry me across the border to rejoin my family. Deciding to stay in the United States was a tough call. Sure, there were two Quasing with us, but this was our home.
And no, I won’t tell you where the secret hospital is. Don’t even ask
.
Roen and Marco knocked on the door of the car repair shop. It was 12.05pm, and it was closed. The shop had closed promptly at noon. Roen had friends who were mechanics; it came with the territory when his job as a Prophus made him wreck cars on a daily basis. That and he was a pretty poor driver as far as secret agents went. One thing he had learned about the mechanics who ran their shops, though, was that these shops never closed early unless they’d already hit their daily quota.
In this case, this particular shop had closed at noon for two days in a row. It must be doing very well, even though it hadn’t serviced any cars since he had first scoped it out. He knocked on the door again, harder this time. A stick-thin old man with disheveled white hair and nervous wandering eyes answered.
“We’re closed,” he barked.
Marco pointed at the parked station wagon behind him in the lot. “Sorry to bother you, good sir, but our car broke down. Could you by chance help us out?”
“I’m not open and too busy. Come back next week,” the old man snapped, closing the door.
Marco stuck his foot in before he could slam it shut. “Come on, please, we’re just passing through and we’re stuck in this one horse town.” He paused, glancing uncertainly at Roen, unsure if he got the reference right. “Just one look, and we promise not to trouble you further.” Roen covered his mouth and snickered.
Old Crazy Hair gave them both a look and then sighed. “Fine, but if it’s something I can’t fix in a couple of minutes, then you guys are out of luck until next week.” He walked out of his shop and toward the car.
“What’s so funny?” Marco asked as he trailed after the guy.
Roen smirked and slipped into the shop while Marco kept the man busy. It looked like any other gas station in a small town. There was a little convenience store area up front, an office in the back, and an attached mechanic’s garage on the side. He slipped into the office and checked the bathroom; nothing conspicuous there, either. Roen continued through the side door to the attached garage. There were three cars on lifts, three garage doors at the front, a door leading to the outside at the far end, and then a door to the back. It looked like any other automobile garage. Roen went out the back door and noticed a set of storm cellar doors in the rear locked by a chain and padlock.
He came back inside and scanned the room. He was running out of time. He could hear Marco speaking loudly out front, begging and imploring the man to fix a car that wasn’t broken even though it was purring at the moment. Well, running as well as a car in its condition could run. Roen looked at the gaps under the ramps. Of course. There had to be a basement below this garage. It took another couple of seconds before he pushed aside a rolling tool cart and found a metal hatch on the ground. With a hard jerk, he pulled the hatch up and came face to face with the business end of a rifle.
“What are you prowling for, boy?” a voice said from somewhere down in the darkness.