BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

laughter subsided. "He's outwith Peter and Paul, but they'll be back soon. Bringing us some vittles, andit's sure to be delicious. Always is!"

Irena watched her and wished the light was better. She didn'tseem quite human, this one. Too cheerful, considering the circumstances.

"You're a SYN."

Mary seemed taken aback for a moment. "Yes, I am. What gaveit away?"

As a rule, Irena was never this direct. But she wasn't currently at herbest. Woozy from the tranquilizer they'd given her, more than infuriated athaving been taken against her will and imprisoned in a dark cell with the mostannoying jailor imaginable. The situation reeked of her father's influence, andevery muscle in her body tensed against the thought of meeting him again, faceto face.

"He made you, didn't he? My father?"

The silhouette nodded. "That he did," she said with asense of awe. "Using the source code from Alpha Geminorum as a template.Which he improved upon, of course. I mean, they originally intended syntheticbeings to be used in combat. Can you imagine? But out of the darknessthat is Underground, there breaketh forth light—the creative genius of theinimitable Cyrus Horton!"

Irena felt her stomach swim. I'm going to be sick.

"So in a way, my dear... We're sisters, you and I," Marysaid. "We have the same father, after all."

I have to get out of here. Irenabraced herself against the mattress and willed herself to her feet. There shestood, swaying but holding her own, despite the hands Mary extended her way.

"I'm fine." Irena rejected herhelp.

"Oh, you're a stubborn one, you are. So much likeFather!"

"Don't call him that." He doesn't deserve it.Unless he treated this creature better than his own family, abandoning themwhen Irena was only fourteen. Has he been down here all this time?Had the authorities even searched for him Underground? Had there been anyBlackshirts with the courage and fortitude to do so?

"The...hurt he caused you is still fresh—"

"I need goggles. And I need you to show me the way out ofhere." Irena took a step forward, her legs wobbly at the knees.

"You sure that would be the best idea right now? To gorunning off down here?"

"I'll risk it." She stumbled forward, past Mary and intothe fulgent white of the room beyond. She could barely keep her eyes open inthe glare. Squinting, she saw the long table in the center of the room and thesprawling wake of scraps, electronic parts, pieces of steel and wire leftbehind by a crazed inventor. Her father. A man she hadn't seen in more yearsthan she cared to count.

Because she didn't care. He'd ceased to be relevant in her life along time ago.

"I don't think Cade would approve, now would he?"

Irena turned sharply, scowling at the tall woman. "How doyou know that name?"

Mary smiled, dazzling in her beauty—perfect teeth and rosy lips."I truly doubt he would relish the thought of you running about withoutyour guardian angel."

"Is he here?" Irena staggered back to where Mary leaned against the doorframe."Do you know where he is?"

"When would be more like it." She folded herarms, freckled and ivory in her sleeveless black blouse. "He'sbacktracking right now."

Irena could only stare.

"Should return in a bit. Why don't you just sit tight untilhe does, and then you and he and Father can catch up. I'm sure Father wouldlove that. His little family, together again!"

"Backtracking..." Irena heard the word as it escaped her lips, but it came fromfar away. So it's true. "There are others. He made others."

Mary raised both of her tapered eyebrows and leaned forward forclarification.

"My father—" The word still tasted strange after livingso long without it. "He made other BackTracker devices? After theprototype?"

Mary's laughter was light and infectious. "Of course! Whatgenius would end his life's race at the starting line? He's made a few now,improving them every step of the way—"

"And he's used them."

"Many times. He's got to make sure they work, now hasn'the?"

He's been careless. Somehow, at some pointduring his travels into the past, he's revealed what should have remainedsecret.

That's why there was a site on the Link devoted to BackTrackerspeculation. That was how Gavin Lennox had come to know about the device and the manbehind it—the BackTracker—who could, according to Link speculation, solve eventhe most unsolvable cases. With a time-travel device, that would be easy.

Is my father that man? Is he the BackTracker?

"That's all he left behind." Mary gestured toward the concretefloor where Cade's short sword lay. Irena hadnever seen him without it. He would not havediscarded it willingly. "We've got bets laid, Peter and I, as to whetherhe'll return in exactly the same spot. When he gets back from his little errandin the past, that is."

"Why did he go?" Irena felt the strength returning to her legs. She stood withmore confidence, less at the mercy of this smiling synthetic. "How didyour father make him do it?"

Mary shrugged at that, as if the answer were staring Irena in theface. "He can make any of us do anything, if he wishes it. He's ourcreator. Cade may not have known it to be true, but I'm certain he doesnow."

Cade is no SYN. He was adedicated follower of the Way, and as far as she knew, one of the onlyprerequisites for such devotion was to have a soul.

"Show me." She turned to the debris-strewn table.

"You want to see what Father's been working on?" Marybubbled, nearly skipping to her side.

The jumble before them was a labyrinth of unfamiliarcomponents—whether pieces to a larger puzzle or simply discarded junk, Irenacouldn't be sure. She recognized mounds of random electronic parts and wires,glowing nuclear cells, and the insides of what appeared to be outdated computersystems, pillaged beyond recognition. Somewhere in there was one of theBackTrackers. Her father had never been much for organization, and it would belike him to leave his most groundbreaking invention sitting in plain sight.

If only she knew what it looked like.

"This one is a real trip—literally!" Mary reached intothe clutter with deft familiarity and retrieved what looked like a silvercigarette lighter. "Father calls it the Translator. Always one forcatchy titles, he is. It takes you from this reality, where we're standingright now, into an