Time Was Read Free

computer banks running smoothly with no human assistance.
    Preston felt smug, if not good.
    Dammit , he thought as the twinge of fire flared again inside him. Not now!
    No way was Zac going to beat him on this one. Oh, sure, when they’d been at WorldTech together, it became apparent to even the most self-involved of the researchers that Robillard possessed the superior scientific mind. Though Preston resented the respect and even awe with which Zac was regarded, it quickly became obvious that it was he, Preston, and not Robillard, who had the upper hand when it came to corporate political savvy.
    Guess who made it all the way to the top, Zac , he thought, studying Robillard’s face.
    Still, somewhere in the back of his mind, Preston knew that, ultimately, he was inferior to Zac Robillard in every way that counted.
    But he’d become very good at denial.
    Very good, indeed—he had the fire inside his gut to testify to that.
    No way, no way in hell, would Zac Robillard beat him.
    No way.

6
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    Â 
    Ninety seconds after the mainframe security code changed, it changed again:

7
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23:56:07
    The child sensed the Bad Feeling again as he realized that he couldn’t remember the color of his hair.
    Blond? Dark? Light brown?
    Was it straight, hanging down in his eyes so he had to brush it aside all the time, maybe puff it away with a good burst of breath, or was it wavy, even curly?
    The Bad Feeling quickly gave way to sadness.
    He couldn’t remember.
    And his sadness gave way to a deeper fear.

8
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    When the three I-Bots were less than nine feet from the fence, Radiant lifted her hands, signaling her companions to hang back. She adjusted her goggles, took a deep breath, then stepped forward into the range of the outside sensors.
    Psy–4 was as still as death.
    Even though he knew there was no security system that coulddefeat them, he’d been programmed to never, ever discard any possibility, regardless of how outrageous or illogical it seemed.
    And so he was a little on edge right now.
    In fact, he was a little on edge all the time, but never more so than when they were executing a mission.
    You never knew what might go wrong.
    Or when.
    He pushed his anxiety aside and concentrated on Radiant’s movements.
    She moved forward, hands straight out, palms up.
    The air hit her hands and rippled backward like heat waves rising from an asphalt road in summer heat.
    Psy–4 could smell the ozone, feel that crackling static electricity twisting through the atmosphere, brushing past him.
    He looked at Stonewall, who nodded in his direction.
    He felt it, too.
    The night became blurred, shadows retreated, and the sounds of the crickets and dogs and countless other night creatures grew muffled wherever the sound waves passed through the ripples emanating from Radiant’s hands.
    She moved closer to the fence.
    The ripples turned to waves, rolling forward, frothing the darkness.
    This close to the source, the buzzing of the electrified fence was a physical force against the humid night, its volume rising with every step she took, becoming the vicious snarl of a starving junkyard dog ready to tear into a trespasser.
    She never hesitated, never faltered.
    Psy–4 stared at her, transfixed; she appeared to be in a trance.
    He wondered if she knew how compelling she looked at moments like this.
    The searchlight came around again, but this time when itsbeam hit the ripple-shield around Radiant the light split, spread, became diffuse, and was swallowed.
    There was an opening in the world where none had been before, a pit of night where nothing was seen or sensed; the maw of Death, wide and hungry.
    But only for a moment.
    As the searchlight completed its sweep, the split beams reformed, fused into one, then continued the arc.
    She remained undetected.
    Standing before the fence, the electrical waves were so powerful that a few tufts of Radiant’s startling silver hair, spilling