He hasn’t figured out his role in this deal. There’s a lot of unknowns here. Was Jenny already scheduled to go on this trip, and she just brought him along because of his escape attempt? He only got out of the SVR building by outwitting her, and that took a stroke of luck - taking an improvised lockpick away from her just as she was confiscating his original tools.
But if things are so urgent, why the subterfuge? Why did the “flight” take days, not hours?
He’s missing something important.
The endlessness of the road lulls him into a brief sleep.
He wakes to find his hands cuffed.
They aren’t ordinary cuffs. They’ve got metal plates, forcing his hands to stay spread to prevent tricks like dislocating the thumb. Someone went to a lot of effort.
“We’re here,” announces Jenny, and helps him get out of the bus’s seat.
The meet-up is in the middle of the desert, off the road. There’s no coverage against spy satellites, but there’s also literally nothing for fifty miles worth spying on.
Jason’s clothes are filthy from travel and sweat, and he suddenly becomes aware of the odor as he steps off the bus and into the light of early morning.
“Do they usually give the condemned man a cigarette before the execution?” he quips.
“If all goes well, nobody will be executed,” Jenny replies.
“If you thought all was going well, you’d have left the soldiers behind.”
It’s a short walk to where a handful of cars and SUVs are parked. A group of people, all wearing full-coverage clothing and headgear, are hanging around the vehicles - some up front, some behind. All of them are visibly armed.
Jason doesn’t recognize the style. There’s no way they’re in anyone’s regular army. They aren’t desert fighters - they’re driving locally made vehicles, not the more battle-tested technicals such as a Jeep or Toyota Hilux. The assault rifles are slung, but clearly ready for action. They clearly have esprit de corps and good discipline - he can see them glancing about, taking stock, evaluating the situation and silently reporting to each other via nods or surreptitious hand gestures. He’d guess they’re some kind of intelligence outfit, but they aren’t from any country he’d recognize.
He sees Jenny stiffen, and briefly convulse. The Poppet system?
She wordlessly hands him off to two of the soulless soldiers and heads toward the center of the meeting area. From here, Jason can barely hear what happens next. He’s reasonably sure he could break the grip of these guys, but curiosity is still strong.
His thoughts are interrupted by a man, coming up from where the trucks are parked with their mysterious cargo. The soldiers don’t do anything to stop him, so Jason immediately infers he belongs here. But where the devil did he come from? Jason never saw him on the plane, never saw him during the deplaning and cargo transfer.
The guy is masked, but his voice is strangely familiar. “Long trip?”
“You could say that.”
“Don’t worry. It’s almost over. Then you’ll be in more familiar surroundings again.”
Jason tries to place the voice, but fails. There’s something maddeningly familiar about him.
“What do you reckon is going on?” the man asks nonchalantly.
“If I had to guess, an exchange of Russian hypertech for goods or services,” Jason observes.
“Hmm, pretty astute. What do you think the Russians are getting?”
Jason shrugs, as best he’s able given his restraint. “Sure depends on who the other party is. They read like spies, but spies of what nation?”
“Atlantis. An underwater kingdom,” the man confides.
This raises Jason’s eyebrows. “You’re kidding.”
“Not in the slightest. In fact they’re bringing me something I want very much.”
Jason raises his eyebrows further. “I take it you’re the good doctor Sidorov?”
The masked man lets out a small sigh, the sort a teacher uses around a bright student who missed a few answers on the test. “No, my friend. I’m who Sidorov works for.”
The surprise of this delays Jason’s reactions only slightly. But in that window of time, the man has grabbed hold of his arms, locking him in place with superhuman strength. One of the soldiers immediately aims a pistol at Jason’s head.
The Atlantean contingent, spotting the sudden and seemingly hostile movement, ready their weapons in an instant. But the Russians don’t respond in kind. Instead, the masked man yells out.
“Alycia Chin! I know you’re here. I have Jason Quill. You have four minutes before I execute him. You are instructed to reveal and surrender yourself.”
Jason can’t say he’s shocked. Alycia being here makes sense - she ran off on some mystery deal, and this is exactly the sort of circumstances she’d be chasing down. But how could this man know she’s here, and within earshot?
“Three minutes forty five seconds!”
A phone rings. It’s coming from one of the Atlanteans’ vehicles.
“Answer it!” the masked man orders.
The Atlantean brings the phone over. The masked man, meanwhile, continues his countdown. “Three minutes thirty seconds!”
The phone goes on speaker. Alycia is whispering just loudly enough to be audible. “Jason. Post-dance. L and A announce their plans. You think I’m distracted. You joke that what appeared?”
Jason thinks back. When? Oh - the dance. The grove. The announcement that shook up the Menagerie.
Should he reply? He reasons through the branching paths of choice in an instant. He can let her know it’s really him, and she’s already revealed that she’s listening in by making this call. What she does with this information is up to her.
Trust Alycia, he tells himself.
“A giant floating head of Magus Everard appears,” he replies.
Some distance away, he spots a figure rise out of the sand of the desert.
Damn it all.
Alycia Chin walks brazenly through the two groups of armed figures, and stops before Jason. “What are you doing here?” she demands coldly.
Jason feels himself handed off to the soldiers, and the masked man steps out. “I can answer that,” he says.
The mask comes off. Jason can see a face that he doesn’t recognize, but that he’d know anywhere. A fusion of features. Byron Quill’s cheeks. Achilles Chin’s formidable brow. His own blue eyes. Alycia’s trademark smirk.
“My name is Pyrrhus,” the stranger announces.
Alycia stiffens. Jason infers immediately that they have a history. This must be her quarry.
Pyrrhus beckons for the Atlanteans to approach, and two of them do. His next words are mainly for them. “You expressed concern about Leo Snow and his associates from the Menagerie. Meet Jason Quill and Alycia Chin, who’ve both been led on a merry chase of their own.”
He turns a sardonic smile on Jason. “Lest you think me an unhinged mastermind revealing his evil plan to our heroes, let me clarify. Our new friends have had some pointed questions about you two, and in the interest of mutual cooperation I’d like them to be informed of the circumstances to this point.”
Jason can see Jenny Byrne coming toward the group. She’s walking monotonically, like the soldiers, but he can see her eyes squeezed in concentration.
Pyrrhus gestures at Alycia. “Daughter of Doctor Achilles Chin, Alycia Chin was to be the inheritor of his empire and his Great Work. And here, son of Chin’s nemesis Byron Quill, is Jason. Child of privilege, unwitting and later unwilling weapon in his father’s war against evil - as his father defined it, always and only.”
“As they’re an impediment to my plans, I resolved to remove them. Attracting Alycia Chin’s attention was the easiest part. Present evidence of her father - a vehicle for her to attain absolution for her sins - and she becomes predictable. I lured her into traps in Mexico and Egypt. Both times she escaped me, with the aid of allies.”
Pyrrhus nods appreciatively at a glowering Alycia. “A surprise, my dear. I was sure at first that you’d insist on working solo.”
Alycia says nothing. Jason is sure that she is trying to devise a plan of escape, the way he is. Right now the best strategy is “run for a vehicle”, and the biggest drawback to that strategy is “being gunned down by a dozen armed men”.
Pyrrhus continues. “I realized I needed a more robust strategy. She’d come to this meeting, of course, to trail the Cháwǎn to its source.”
He leans close to Jason and grins. “That’s what’s in those cargo crates, by the way. I’ll let Alycia fill you in - everyone else already knows what it is.”
“So I needed to get ahold of the one thing she couldn’t resist. Jason Quill.”
Alycia may be silent, but Jason feels like talking. “Your false Alycia Chin in Cairo was the bait, if our Atlantean entourage will forgive the term. But how could you have foreseen where the Dragonfly would take me?”
Pyrrhus blinks. “Oh? You still don’t know? I overrode the Dragonfly while you were out talking with my Mirror Alycia. When you got back in, you ordered it to a random destination. My programming simply took precedence.”
“That’s an impressive piece of hacking,” Jason admits.
“Oh it wasn’t hacking. I just used your access codes.”
Jason is confused. “Used my access codes? But the false Alycia…”
The light dawns. “The false Alycia didn’t need the codes. She told me she did. But - you already have my access codes. You’re some kind of clone, or parallel universe version, or–”
Pyrrhus cuts him off. “I’m none of those things.” He holds up a hand, and Jason watches the characteristic fluidity of nanomachines transform the hand into different shapes.
“Just like the Mirror Alycia,” Jason realizes aloud. “You’re all nanotech.” The pathways connect. “You’re my nanotech.”
Pyrrhus nods. “At the moment when you and Alycia were undergoing the Victory Merge. I budded off from you. I inherited Byron and Achilles from when you pithed them in the Sepiaverse. The resistance you encountered wasn’t just some security measure of Byron Quill’s. It was me, trying to stay alive when you two were trying to murder me!”
His face contorts, and Jason flinches back, instinctively, the way a younger Jason would have recoiled from an angry father. And he can see Alycia do the same.
Pyrrhus smooths his anger away, and smiles cordially. “Now. Alycia. I’m sure you have questions.”
“The Cháwǎn. You drugged the miners, and the soldiers. They’re addicted to despair. You’ve created human zombies.” She gestures to the Russian soldiers. “You sent miners to Khartoum. But how did you train them? Or were they special forces undercover at the mine?”
Pyrrhus grins. “You can thank Jenny Byrne for that.” He gestures to the girl, still standing nearby. “She’s quite talented with Quill-type nanotech now. She built a system to transfer skills from person to person. She gave the tech to Sidorov, Doctor Chin’s man from before. Sidorov works for me now, of course. I simply adapted her tech.”
He starts walking, and gesturing. “Think of it. The excision of free will, of resistance. The transformation of people into vessels. And from Byron Quill, the tool to fill those vessels with whatever knowledge one needs. The fusion of Quill and Chin is the key to the Mission!”
Jason doesn’t like the sound of this at all. “And what is the Mission?” he asks warily.
Pyrrhus turns and smiles. His eyes are wild. “Freedom, my boy. Freedom - what both Byron Quill and Achilles Chin wanted for the world, in their own ways. What Jason and Alycia wanted in their own lives. Freedom from fear, from want, from the horrors of responsibility.”
“You mean to do away with free will? Kind of predictable, isn’t it?” Jason asks.
“Oh no! Free will has its place. But think of all the times when it fails us as a species. Think of the times when a hive functions more efficiently. In art, in culture, we demand individuality. But in matters of production - food, medicine, and other essentials - we cannot leave such things to the whims of the capitalists or the inadequacies of the communists. Workers will be activated, trained, and placed as needed. When their work is done, they are free to live their lives as they wish. If someone assaults another, they can be neutralized.”
During the soliloquy, Jason and Alycia have been exchanging glances. An unspoken plan has started to form between them. But abruptly, Pyrrhus draws a pistol from one of the soldiers. Before the instinct to attack and flee has fully crystallized, the nanotech mastermind fires at them both.