They reached the safe house without further incident. Kira and Dev were waiting anxiously, and Greta had managed to stand up and was pacing despite Martha's orders to rest.
"We heard Timekeeper chatter about a pursuit in Dayton," Kira said immediately. "Something about Ray Shivers spotted near the eastern district. I thought—"
"We're fine," Ray assured her. "And that wasn't us. Must have been a false report or a diversion."
"Actually," Dev said, looking uncomfortable, "that might have been me. Sort of."
Everyone turned to stare at him.
Dev pulled out a laptop. "I've been monitoring Timekeeper communications. When I saw they'd pulled over a van matching Elena's description, I... may have called in a false sighting. Used a voice modulator, claimed to be a civilian who saw someone matching Ray's description. Gave them coordinates on the opposite side of the district."
"You created a diversion," Martha said slowly.
"I created a distraction. I didn't know if it would work, but—" Dev shrugged. "Seemed worth trying."
"It worked," Ray said. "Probably saved our lives. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. They'll realize it was a false report. Might tighten up their procedures, make it harder to fool them next time." Dev closed the laptop. "But for today, it bought us time."
Greta limped over to the table where Martha was already laying out papers. "So? How did the first distribution go?"
"Successfully," Martha said. "Fifteen years distributed to fifteen people. No casualties, one very close call with Timekeepers. Overall, I'd call it a qualified success."
"Who did you give the time to?" Greta asked.
Ray thought about the woman on the curb, the man outside the factory, the other desperate people they'd approached. "People who needed it. People who would have died without it. We didn't ask questions, didn't make them prove they deserved it. We just... gave it to them."
"And how did it feel?" Greta's question was pointed. "Giving away years of time, knowing you'll never get them back?"
Ray checked his clock: 105:13:09:17. Still over a century, but five years lower than this morning.
"It felt right," Ray said simply. "Like that's what the time was for. Not to hoard, not to save, but to use. To help. Hamilton gave me his century so I could do something with it. This is doing something."
Greta smiled, the expression transforming her battered face. "Good answer. Because we're going to need that attitude for what comes next."
"What comes next?" Sylvia asked.
Martha unfolded a map of the city, marking locations with a pen. "Next, we scale up. Today was a test—fifteen years, three distributors, one location. Tomorrow we rest, regroup, and plan. The day after, we hit three locations simultaneously. Dayton, Milltown, and the Fringe. Forty-five years distributed total."
"That's ambitious," Elena said. "You'll need more people."
"Caron can provide them. I've been in contact. He's ready to commit trained resistance members to distribution operations." Martha circled three areas on the map. "We'll need drivers, lookouts, coordinators. Dev's diversion tactic worked once, but we need sustainable solutions. Better intelligence, better timing, better everything."
"And more time to distribute," Kira added. "Fifteen years is good, but it's not enough to make a real impact. Not when thousands are dying."
Ray pulled out the remaining time capsules from his hidden pockets, setting them on the table. "We have ten years left from the vault robbery. Plus whatever's on our personal clocks that we're willing to transfer."
"I've got forty-two years," Sylvia said immediately. "I can give thirty of them. Keep twelve for operations."
"I have one year, four months," Martha said quietly. "I'll keep three months for myself. The rest goes to the cause."
Everyone turned to look at her. One year, four months. Martha was dying—slowly by New Greenwich standards, but in Dayton time, she was already halfway to zero.
"Martha—" Ray started.
"Don't," she interrupted. "I've lived fifty-three years. That's more than most people in Dayton will ever see. If I can use my last year to help others survive, that's not a sacrifice. That's a privilege."
The room fell silent, each person processing their own mortality, their own choices.
"I've got three months," Greta said. "I'll give two of them. Figure I can do more good alive with one month than dead with three."
"Forty-eight days," Dev added. "I'll contribute thirty."
"Seventy-seven days," Kira said. "I'll give fifty."
Ray looked around at these people—resistance members, revolutionaries, people who were literally giving years of their lives to help strangers. People who had so little time and were offering to have even less.
"No," Ray said firmly.
Everyone stared at him.
"No?" Martha's voice was dangerous. "Ray, we're volunteering—"
"I know. And I appreciate it. But we're not taking time from people who barely have any." Ray gestured to his clock. "I have a century. More than everyone in this room combined. If we need time to distribute, we take it from me. All of you keep what you have. Stay alive, stay in the fight. Let me be the bank."
"That's not sustainable," Martha argued. "Even a century runs out eventually."
"Then I'll steal more. Rob another vault, hijack a time transport, whatever it takes." Ray's voice was hard with determination. "Hamilton gave me this time to use it. Martha nearly died getting us out with more. I'm not watching people with months or weeks give away what little they have while I sit on a century."
"He's right," Sylvia said quietly. "Ray and I have the most time. We should be the primary sources for distributions. Everyone else's time is more valuable keeping them alive and operational."
Martha looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "Fine. For now. But if we're scaling up operations, we'll need more than what you two have. We'll need to acquire additional time through... other means."
"Other means meaning robbery," Greta said with a grin. "I like where this is going."
"Robbery, appropriation, strategic reallocation," Martha said. "Call it what you want. The point is, we can't sustain a revolution on charity. We need to actively take time from those who have too much and give it to those who have too little. Become the redistribution system the official economy refuses to be."
Kira was typing on her laptop. "I'm looking at time transport schedules. There are regular shipments between time banks, carrying physical capsules for backup and emergency reserves. If we could intercept one—"
"That's a whole different level of risk," Elena said. "Time transports are heavily guarded. Armored vehicles, Timekeeper escorts, the works."
"But doable," Martha said thoughtfully. "Not now, not yet. We're still too small, too exposed. But eventually? Yes. We'll need to raid transports if we want to maintain operations long-term."
Ray's mind was already working through the logistics. Time transports. Moving targets. Higher risk but higher reward. It was the natural escalation of what they'd started.
"One step at a time," Martha decided. "Right now, focus on the next distribution. Day after tomorrow, three locations, forty-five years total. We make it work, we prove the model, we build from there."
Over the next two days, they planned obsessively. Caron sent two additional resistance members—a woman named Tessa who knew Milltown's back alleys intimately, and a man called Jarek who'd worked security and understood patrol patterns. Both had been thoroughly vetted, both were committed to the cause.
Dev worked on additional disguises. Kira coordinated timing and communications. Greta, still recovering but refusing to be sidelined, managed intelligence gathering using her contacts throughout the city.
And Ray trained with Tessa and Jarek, learning the new distribution sites, memorizing escape routes, preparing for every contingency they could imagine.
On the morning of the operation, they gathered in the safe house one final time.
"Three teams," Martha reviewed. "Ray and Tessa in Dayton. Sylvia and Jarek in Milltown. I'll handle the Fringe with Kira. Each team has fifteen years to distribute. Extraction vehicles will be positioned and ready. Communications will be maintained but minimal—only emergency signals unless absolutely necessary."
"And if something goes wrong?" Jarek asked.
"Then that team extracts immediately and the other teams continue. We don't all go down together." Martha's expression was grave. "This is dangerous. More dangerous than last time because we're split up, spread thin. But it's also more impactful. Forty-five people will survive today who otherwise wouldn't. That's worth the risk."
Ray checked his clock: 105:13:06:44. By tonight, he'd be down another fifteen years. The number was dropping steadily, but every year he gave away felt like a victory rather than a loss.
"Everyone ready?" Martha asked.
Nods around the room. Determined faces. People willing to risk everything for strangers they'd never meet.
"Then let's go change some lives," Martha said.
They split up, heading to different vehicles, different destinations, different dangers. Ray rode with Tessa in an old sedan that Elena had procured, heading toward Dayton's western district—far from yesterday's distribution point, a completely different neighborhood.
"You nervous?" Tessa asked as they drove.
"Terrified," Ray admitted. "You?"
"Same. But that's good. Fear keeps you sharp." Tessa navigated through traffic with practiced ease. "I was born in Dayton. Lived there until I was thirty, then managed to scrape together enough time to move to Milltown. Thought I'd escaped. But you never really escape, you know? The guilt of survival while people you grew up with are dying... it eats at you."
"Is that why you joined the resistance?"
"That's why I'm still in the resistance. After Martha recruited me, after I saw what the system really was, I couldn't go back to pretending everything was fine." Tessa pulled into an alley three blocks from their target location. "Today, I get to help people like I used to be. People who deserve better than slow death. That's worth any risk."
They exited the vehicle and walked toward the distribution point—a busy street corner where workers gathered waiting for day labor opportunities. Dozens of people, all desperate, all checking their clocks anxiously.
Ray and Tessa split up, moving through the crowd independently. Ray approached a man who looked like he hadn't slept in days, his clock showing 00:08:33. Eight hours.
"Rough times," Ray said casually.
The man barely glanced at him. "Aren't they always."
"Could be better." Ray pulled out a time capsule. "This is yours. One year. No strings."
The man's head snapped up, his eyes widening. "What—why—"
"Because someone once helped me when I needed it. Passing it forward." Ray pressed the capsule into the man's hand and walked away, leaving him stunned and speechless.
Five transfers in ten minutes. Five years distributed to five desperate people.
Ray made his way back toward the extraction point, scanning for Timekeepers, watching for anything unusual. Everything seemed normal. People going about their business, unaware that revolution was happening one transfer at a time.
Tessa appeared from a different direction, gave him a subtle nod. She'd completed her transfers too.
They were halfway to the vehicle when Ray's earpiece crackled to life.
"All teams, emergency." It was Kira's voice, strained and urgent. "Milltown team is compromised. Sylvia and Jarek are under pursuit. Multiple Timekeepers. They need extraction now."
Ray's blood turned to ice. Sylvia. She was in danger.
"Can we help?" Ray asked into his microphone.
"Negative. You're too far away. Milltown team is on their own." A pause, then: "Martha's team is proceeding. Complete your extraction and return to base. That's an order."
Ray wanted to argue, wanted to commandeer a vehicle and race toward Milltown. But Tessa was already pulling him toward their car, her expression grim.
"We follow orders," Tessa said. "Sylvia knew the risks. So did we all."
They climbed into the sedan and drove away from Dayton, every second feeling like an eternity. Ray's mind raced with terrible scenarios. Sylvia captured. Sylvia's clock being drained. Sylvia imprisoned or worse.
His earpiece crackled again. "Milltown team to base. We're clear. Repeat, we are clear. Lost one pursuer in the tunnels, lost the second at a false checkpoint. Heading to secondary extraction point."
Ray sagged with relief so intense it was almost painful. She was okay. They were okay.
"All teams report status," Martha's voice commanded.
"Dayton team complete, fifteen years distributed, no casualties," Tessa reported.
"Fringe team complete, fifteen years distributed, no issues," Kira added.
"Milltown team complete, fifteen years distributed, close call but extracted successfully," came Jarek's voice.
Forty-five years. Three locations. Three successful distributions.
They'd done it.
Ray checked his clock: 105:12:51:44. Fifteen years lower, but forty-five people were alive who otherwise wouldn't be.
The revolution was growing.
One year at a time.
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