Chapter 290: Epilogue 1: Where We Go From Here

Lee and Harley didn’t want or need to go back to the office just yet, but while Vell and the others took their finals, there was not much to do but sit around in dorms and do what they could to work from there. Lee set up her work laptop and logged in, then watched the numbers go up.

“How bad is it?”

“I’m currently sitting on eight-thousand unread emails,” Lee said. “And counting.”

“Well. That’s a bit more than even I was expecting.”

News of Kraid’s defeat had spread fast, and hit the industry like an atom bomb. Companies hadn’t even begun to recover from Kraid’s mass hostile takeover several days ago, and now the incoherent empire was already fracturing. Companies that had been absorbed were scrambling to re-establish themselves alone after being gutted by Kraid, and the core of Kraid Tech was splintering like the remnants of a fallen empire, with every executive trying to either reassemble the broken parts or loot the treasury for their own benefit. In the midst of that back and forth chaos, Harlan Industries had been entirely untouched: an island of stability that many savvy industrialists needed right now.

“Well, we better get started,” Harley said. “Prime opportunity, for us, isn’t it? Workers willing to accept lowball contracts, clients who’ll take shoddy merchandise.”

“Harley.”

“What? I’m working on my capitalist impression,” Harley said. “Come on. There’s got to be something we can do without being assholes about it.”

Harley turned to her own laptop and started looking over resumes, while Lee got to work perusing the litany of new offers on her desk. As expected, many of them were unethical or even outright illegal, coming from former Roentgen or Kraid Tech workers looking to get right back to their usual routine. Lee put them in the trash where they belonged.

Some might call it missed opportunity. Lee called it ‘ethical’. She had neither the will nor the desire to be as monstrous as some parts of the world wanted her to be. She’d never be a billionaire with that attitude, and that was just fine with her. She would get by, and she would do good. That was enough for her.

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“Okay, moment of truth,” Alex said. It was time for grades to be returned. She held her breath, clicked into the school’s app, and averted her gaze.

“You’re going to have to look, Alex,” Freddy said.

“I can’t do it,” Alex said. “Look for me.”

Freddy rolled his eyes and did so.

“Alex. You’re fine.”

“Am I fine in the sense that my grades are good or fine in the sense that you’ll love me even though I’m a failure?”

“That second thing would be true,” Freddy said. “But: you passed.”

“Oh thank God,” Alex said. That phrase had a slightly different meaning, as of a few days ago. Alex finally looked down at her grades and saw that she had finished with a strong array of B’s and C’s. Not quite the academic excellence she had always fought for, but enough to keep her enrolled at the Einstein-Odinson. She was willing to accept that. She’d learned plenty of lessons this year that did not show up on a report card.

“Congratulations on meeting the Einstein-Odinson standard of excellence,” Freddy said. Though many overwhelmed freshmen flunked out every year, Alex would not be among them.

“That’s good,” Alex said. “Great. But...I do wonder…”

“I’m sure nobody gave you extra credit just because you helped save the world, Alex,” Freddy said. “Everyone contributed to that, they can’t give bonus points for it. And if they do, they’re giving them to everybody, so it’s basically like nothing happened.”

“Not what I meant,” Alex said. “You’re graduating. I’m coming back for the next three years, hopefully. Where does that leave, well, us?”

“Why does that have to have any effect?” Freddy said. “Long distance relationships are fine, and...and you could come to California with me over the summer! I’m sure Vell wouldn’t mind giving you a job at the company, we could have every summer together, then you graduate, and, you know…”

“I was actually thinking I’d head home this year,” Alex said. “I have a lot of messes to clean up. A few people to yell at. A lot more to apologize to for yelling at previously.”

“Oh.”

“It has only been a few weeks, Freddy,” Alex said. “It’d be childish of us to try and make long term plans for such a short relationship.”

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Then...a break?”

“A break,” Alex agreed. “Upon my graduation, I’ll look you up. See if you haven’t yet realized how handsome you are and scored someone much better than me.”

“You are really overestimating me, it took me twenty-five years to get you,” Freddy said. “But are we on a break right away, or in a few days?”

“In a few days,” Alex said.

“Great, then how about, right now, we, uh, well, you know...”

Alex did know. She kissed him. It was nice.

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“I was not expecting all the fringe benefits, got to be honest,” Joan said. She packed another binder full of medical data into her bag. “I knew helping Vell would be worth it, but whoof. I might need to make two trips.”

All of the exploration into the nature of life on the big day had yielded a treasure trove of data on medicine and health. Thanks to her role in helping Vell, nobody had even thought twice about lending it to Joan when asked. In a single day she had more pertinent information on Helena’s case than entire decades of deceit had won her.

“Two years, fifty-eight days, thirteen hours, and seventeen minutes,” Joan scoffed. She looked at Helena with a smile on her face. “We’re going to have this thing solved by next week.”

Helena did not meet her sister’s gaze.

“About that.”

“What? What?”

Joan left the papers behind and went to her sister’s side.

“What is it?”

“There’s just something we need to do first,” Helena said.

“Helena, you are my top priority right now,” Joan said. “We already did our big good deed, the moral check is clear-”

“It’s not,” Helena snapped. “Because I know something bad is going to happen, so I need to stop it.”

Helena slammed her hands into her lap and spun in her wheelchair.

“Kraid had failsafes. Contingency plans just to ensure there’d be havoc even if he died,” Helena said. “If he doesn’t check in, which he isn’t going to-”

Somewhere in the wastes of the Gobi desert, muffled screaming hummed out from below a sand dune.

“-then a lot of bad things are going to happen, and a lot of people are going to get hurt,” Helena said. “I know how to stop some of them, at least. I have to do that.”

“We could...we could warn people,” Joan said. “We’re on a time limit.”

“I know,” Helena said. “I think this is exactly why Quenay told us what she did. Wanted to see if I’d put myself before other people again. Well I’m not going to.”

She clenched her fists and tried to cry. She still couldn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody anymore,” Helena choked out. “I don’t want to disappoint you again.”

Joan teared up, but smiled.

“Alright,” Joan said. “Let’s do some good.”

After Joan composed herself, Helena led them to the boat that would take them both home. She watched the island fade into the distance, and caught a glimpse of Samson standing on the shore. He waved. She waved back. Then he was too small to see, as the entire island began to fade out of view.

Helena didn’t know if or when she’d see that island again. The Dean had personally invited her to return next year, but Helena didn’t know if she’d be able. Her health thus far had been dependent on Kraid, and now he was gone, so it all came to down to how and when she and Joan could figure something out. There was no telling if that would happen at all, much less in time for her to go back to school.

But there was always a chance.

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Lee, Leanne, and Harley had put a lot of effort into explaining to Vell that graduating did not feel special. They had been right in some ways, and wrong in others.

There had been no flash of lightning or cosmic crash to indicate that Vell was no longer a looper. There was, however, a thunderous cheer the moment he stepped on to the stage. The sweeping round of applause, the flash of a hundred cameras, and the congratulations of dozens of friends felt more special than whatever temporal nonsense might’ve gone along with leaving the loop. But then the celebration was over, friends said their goodbyes and left, and it was time to pack up. Vell took off his cap and gown, stowed the diploma in his luggage, and started to put things away.

He went to the weapons locker, popped it open, and set down an ornate wooden box with the rest of the weapons. His three cursed revolvers had served him pretty well, even if the Clint Eastwood one wasn’t autographed. He tucked the guns away for the next looper who might need them, with a series of instructions on how to oil and maintain them properly. After saying farewell to arms, it was time to head for the lair.

The other loopers were there waiting for him, and nobody said a word as he walked to his seat and settled down at the head of the table one last time.

“Well. I’m glad this all wrapped up without me having to give a big speech,” Vell said.

“If we’d needed you to make a speech, we’d all be dead,” Kim said. “Luckily, all we needed you to be was smart. And nice. And cool. And…”

Kim’s head slammed into the table, but in a sad way.

“I’m going to miss you, Vell.”

“We’re all going to miss you,” Samson said. “In a lot of ways. I really don’t know how we’re going to get by without you.”

“Be honest, it’s going to be a lot more boring around here without me,” Vell said. On top of his exit, if Helena ended up not returning next year as well, there’d be even less nonsense. For the first time in four years, the campus faced the prospect of slightly less shenanigans.

“You give yourself too much credit,” Alex said. “I’m still here, and I’ll find plenty of ways to get weird without you.”

“Maybe. You’ll have to let me know,” Vell said. “But for now...I got a boat to catch.”

He stood up, removed the extradimensional bookbag from his shoulder, and passed it off to Hawke.

“Good luck, buddy,” Vell said. He gave Hawke a pat on the shoulder, and then turned to head out the door of the lair for the last time.

Hawke held the bag in his hands for a moment before slinging it over his shoulder, etching an expression of resolve onto his face, and heading for the empty seat at the head of the table. He sat down in the empty chair like it was a throne, and then bent down to adjust the height.

“Little low,” Hawke said, as he scooted the chair to his preferred level. “Vell was pretty tall.”

“Off to an inspiring start, champ.”

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A few days later, the sun set on a quiet campus. A single office remained lit, and an undead Dean punched away at budgets for next year, with the aid of a young robot doing calculations. In a secret lair, empty chairs gathered dust. A marine biology lab sat empty, automatic feeders buzzing in fishtanks. Empty tables in a quiet dining hall stayed in neat rows.

Class was dismissed. The Einstein-Odinson campus was calm and quiet. At least until next year.

A year without Vell Harlan.