Feldman stepped from the lift onto the silent 28th floor. The stark lines and gleaming metal and glass were designed to intimidate. The artwork, sculptures and fountains were perhaps of a higher magnitude than he could afford, but it was just a matter of time.
There was no reception desk, but he turned left, walking with unhurried steps. He stopped when the wall on his right morphed from a marble surface into a floor-to-ceiling screen showing the city beneath them, and the restless Irish Sea in the distance.
He waited.
A few seconds later, the city disappeared and was replaced by the ten-foot image of Sun’s AI, in the form of a beautiful woman in impeccable business dress. Her dark brown hair flowed in casual waves around her shoulders as she turned to face him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Feldman,” she said. “He is expecting you in the Greeting Room.”
“Thank you, Ari.” He nodded before continuing forward. At the end of the hall, two oak doors clicked open as he approached. He entered, aware that his jaw was tighter than he wished. He permitted himself to attribute the tension to his anger. It wouldn’t do to appear nervous.
Green leather sofas and chairs littered the large room, in between tables for magazines and drinks. The bar at the far right end was quiet, the mirror reflecting the room and the clouds visible through the wall of windows across from him.
No one else was here.
His cheek twitched once, before he forced himself to be still. He took one, slow breath and let it out while he stared at the window.
Before he drew another breath, a voice broke the silence. “You let Altair walk away with the most advanced technology we’ve seen.”
“It’s a temporary situation, sir. He can’t go anywhere that we won’t find him.”
“I’d feel better about that statement if we had a better track record of rounding up rebel commanders. But some of them manage to elude us, don’t they, Feldman?”
“Some,” he admitted. “But Altair will be back, sir. Soon, I suspect.”
“Why is that, Mr. Feldman?”
“I have his chip, sir. The one that allows them to return home.”
“Ah.” The voice was silent. Feldman felt some of his tension lighten, until it spoke again. “Surely, he can build another chip?”
Knowing he could be seen, Feldman propped himself on the arm of a sofa, the picture of nonchalance. “I’m certain he could. Eventually. But he would have to test it, and we’d have him in seconds. In addition, some of the components he would need are tightly controlled. It’s possible we could find him before he ever got another built. And by then, we might be able to use the chip I have to transport into his universe.” Feldman shrugged. “His cooperation is guaranteed.”
“What about Green? How the hell did he get by us?”
“There’s no evidence that he’s working with the rebels. Despite his brilliance, it looks like he has the morals of a gutter-rat, and the sorry connections that go with it. In fact, I can use this situation to our favor. I just need to make a couple of calls.”
“Get on it, then. Your ass has never been so close to the fire, Feldman. I don’t like it.”
“Can’t say that I like it either, sir.” Good, that was said with just the right amount of humble aplomb. Feldman stood up, his confidence returning. “I’ll keep you appraised, sir.”
The connection closed without another word from the voice. So. He was still in hot water. The best he could hope, was that the water had cooled a few degrees. He walked to the bar and poured a Scotch. “Ari,” he said, watching amber lights shift within the liquid, “place a call to Cyrus Sherman in Chelmsford. I’d like a word with him.”
~~~
Moira didn’t open her eyes immediately upon waking. As consciousness returned, she listened, searching for voices, footsteps, the beeping of equipment ... anything to give her a sense of place and time.
She heard only silence at first, but soon made out the Doppler sound of someone approaching, then receding. She opened her eyes to find a ragged, plaster ceiling above her. She lay on a bed, with a pillow under her head and a blanket covering her. The air of the room touched her face with warmth. Such comforts assured her that she had not been turned over to Security preparatory to being sent back to her stepfather.
That worry had crossed her mind just as they were administering the anesthetic for the surgery, probably a last-second firing of nervous neurons. Thank goodness it had not haunted her drugged sleep.
A glance around the room completed her quick inventory. Beside her bed, there was a white, metal cabinet with a small pitcher, and an empty glass with a bent straw in it. An open door to her left revealed a loo. The closed door to her right must by the way out.
She sat up, only then realizing that her stomach did not hurt, although there was a pulling sensation in her skin. Pushing the blanket aside, she lifted the hospital gown to see a small white bandage taped below and to the right of her belly button. Her abdomen was still a spectacular montage of yellow and black, but there was no pain. She decided she was probably still heavily drugged.
The door opened and Moira dropped the gown as she glanced up. Her visitor was not one of the nurses she’d met last night, if it had been last night and not any longer. Like them, this woman wore scrubs, with a medical Feinberger sticking up from the large front pouch of her shirt. She was about the age of Moira’s mother, and her skin had the splotchy brown-and-white characteristic of people from the ozone-free west coast. Her smile as she approached Moira seemed friendly and heart-felt.
“Mornin’ love,” she said. “I’m Sheila, and imagine my surprise to come to work and find a wee, beaten girl to be in my care. Escaped from an enclave, did you? That’s bravery, that is, and such good luck you had with it, too. You’re safe now, though, so you just breathe easy and let us take care of keeping your presence a secret. It’s what we do, ye know.” While she was talking, she smoothed Moira’s gown, fluffed the pillow, and produced a hairbrush from the cabinet drawer. She stroked it through Moira’s hair with gentle pulls.
“They tell me your name is Moira, is that right?” Moira started to say yes, but the avalanche of words swept over her voice. “That’s a pretty name, one of my favorites. Now, you need to tell me how you feel. You’ve been on a monitor, o’ course, which shows you’re healing nicely, but I like to hear it from the patient’s own mouth. I’ve got a nice warm breakfast waiting for you, nothing too hard to digest, you understand. Want to give your poor sore muscles a chance to recover, but Dr. Mullweather has a deft hand with the lasers, and he did a right job sealing up your wounds. Still, no need to overdo, is there?”
Whereupon she stood straight, hairbrush held in folded hands as she beamed at Moira, and waited for a reply. Moira cleared her throat and ventured to speak, surprising herself when her first words were, “I’m starving.”
Sheila did not quite clap her hands, as the brush was a hindrance, but she tapped it once before returning it to the drawer. “Splendid. That’s what I like to hear. I’ll bring your tray right in, dearie. The loo’s behind you if you want to freshen up. I’ll just stand close for a minute, in case you’ve any dizziness, there’s a good girl.”
Her left hand stood guard a few inches from Moira’s shoulder as her right hand pushed aside the blanket and helped Moira swing her legs off the bed. Realizing that she did need to use the loo, Moira planted her stockinged feet on the floor and stood, with a deep breath to banish the vertigo that swept over her. As it receded, she met Sheila’s sharp gaze and smiled. “I think I can manage now. Thanks.”
“In with you, then,” Sheila said, making shooing motions with her hands. “Take your time, dearie, don’t move too fast.”
Moira took a step in obedience to the shooing motions, but paused, suddenly anxious about what had been happening while she was unconscious. “Can you tell me,” she asked, “if Andy Green is still here? Do you know where he is?”
Sheila lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “That young man has been a thorn in my side since I came on this morning, pesterin’ me about when you’d wake up and be sure to let him know the second you’d come around.” She fixed her gaze on Moira with a confidential wink. “I’ll be doin’ that, Miss, unless you’d rather I didn’t?”
“Oh, no,” Moira hurried to answer, embarrassed at the heat that flushed through her body. “Do, please. I want to see him.”
“Well then, you get yourself washed and dressed, and eat a good breakfast, then we’ll see about taking you to join them. They’re all workin’ on the Project, and Mister Ned has left instructions you’re to assist as soon as you’re able. Will that suffice?”
Moira’s heart seemed to soar, and she provided Sheila with a giddy smile. “Yes, it will. I feel fine, truly. I’ll dress right away.”
She turned to the loo and found she could indeed walk without pain. When she reached the door, Sheila gave a satisfied nod and turned on her heel, with a promise to be right back with breakfast.
Dr. Mullweather stopped in as Moira finished eating. He checked the surgical site, and pronounced himself pleased at the condition of the tiny holes. As Sheila covered them with a fresh bandage, Dr. Mullweather gave Moira final instructions.
“Ned wants you helping on the project, and I think you’re good to go. I want you in a comfortable chair, with your feet up most of the time. Every hour or so, you should walk around for ten minutes. Continue eating soft foods for today. I think tomorrow you can start on a regular diet. No running or active exercises for a week or so.” He dropped his Pad in the pocket of his lab coat, then leaned down to peer at her ear. “That’s healing nicely. I can’t replace the Nu-skin, but it’s not a bad job. This ear should match the other one pretty well.”
“’Course it will,” Sheila said, patting Moira’s shoulder. “Your Mr. Green did a fine job of it.”
“Speaking of Mr. Green,” Dr. Mullweather said as he turned to go, “he’s waiting for you at Sheila’s desk. He can take you to where they’re working, whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now.” Moira tried not to look as if she were scrambling to her feet, even though that’s what it felt like. Dr. Mullweather winked at Sheila while he held the door open for Moira.
Sheila’s desk was in an open space down the hall to Moira’s right. She recognized the double doors on the other side of the desk as the place they’d brought her for the procedure. Andy sat in a chair, frowning at his Pad. When he heard her steps, he glanced up, and the frown turned right-side up as he stood. She stopped a few feet away and held her arms out to her sides.
“All better,” she announced, and watched, fascinated, as his expression morphed into an even bigger smile that nevertheless seemed to be holding back tears.
“I should never have left you alone,” he said.
“You had no choice in the matter. In the end, we made it.” She glanced around, seeing Sheila and Dr. Mullweather talking quietly near her room, the small infirmary, with its one operating theater and a few supplies, wonder building within her. “We really made it,” she said, and laughed. “I’m free. Dr. Mullweather said I was supposed to help with some project.”
Andy nodded. “I’ll take you. It’s this way.”
She waved to Sheila, who lifted a hand in return, then she caught up with Andy. “Are the ... um ... travelers ... still here?”
“Yes. They’re helping us.”
“Helping us with what? Why are they here? What happened yesterday? Tell me everything.”
“It’s a long story, but I’ll give you the broad outline while we walk.” He turned and she followed, thankful that he matched his pace to hers. “The guards found a chip in Sarah’s pocket that contained information about a plan to blow up NISS. We think a woman at Sun slipped the chip in there, knowing we were trying to escape. It turns out she’s given information to the rebels before. So she’s on our side. Helped us escape, actually.”
“That was lucky,” Moira said, then shook her head. “But blow up NISS? Why? Are you saying someone at Sun is doing that?”
“Yeah,” Andy said. “It looks like a plot to insinuate the rebels. If the world’s population thinks the rebels have done that, they would all approve Sun’s taking over the station.”
Moira closed her eyes. “More control.”
“Exactly. Ned plans to stop them, using Sam’s machine. That’s what we’re working on. For now,” he finished up, “we’re waiting to hear from Wilbur Arkady, who heads civilian operations on NISS. He’s really a rebel operative. Sam and Sarah are helping me build a prototype copy of CERBO, so we have the technology even after they leave. You’re going to help with that.”
He paused next to a closed office door and grinned in self-conscious pride. “Sam says I would have had it figured out in five or ten years anyway. He couldn’t understand why we hadn’t done it already, because the original Sam Altair had written many papers on his work. They’ve all been suppressed somehow, probably by Sun, after that first time travel accident in 2006. It turns out that book you gave me for a graduation present is quite the rare find. As it is, I’ve been making discoveries that Sun knew about a hundred years ago, which is simply maddening.”
“But why didn’t they build more machines themselves?” Moira asked.
“We don’t know.” Andy opened the door and waved Moira through. “Sam thinks that at first they were just covering their tracks, but then they got caught up in the global catastrophes same as everyone else. And at the time, they didn’t know what else the technology would be good for.”
The conference room Moira stepped into was a hive of activity. Its large table was littered with machinery, computers, communication equipment, tea and coffee mugs, and a tray of sandwiches. Moira recognized Sarah at the left end of the table, and she shyly returned her smile. At the other end, Sam Altair was heads-together with a tall blond man Andy said was his friend, Pete. Neither of them looked up as she and Andy entered. A vid screen covered the wall behind them, showing NISS in its orbit.
In the center of the room behind the table, Karen stood by a virtual map of the interior of NISS, which hovered in the air in front of her. She was wearing hologram gear, walking through and around the display as she murmured into the mike attached to her goggles.
Moira followed Andy to Sarah’s end of the table and slid into the empty chair, while Andy went to collect another chair from around the table. He surprised Moira by placing it next to hers and lifting her feet to rest on its seat.
“Doctor’s orders, remember?” he said. His face was troubled, although he smiled and spoke in a teasing tone.
Moira nodded, determined to not make him feel any worse. “Thank you.”
“How are you feeling now?” Sarah asked.
“Much better,” Moira told her. “I guess I had a couple of small tears in my stomach, which were bleeding. Dr. Mullweather sealed them, and he’s given me a morphine patch. So I feel fine.”
Sarah laughed and Andy brought another chair over for his own seat. He also handed Moira her Pad. “We’re working in the file labeled Andrews, which I’ve downloaded for you,” he said.
“We don’t know how much time we have,” Sarah said. “So I want to make sure we leave all the information you will need to build your own machines. If we have time and the proper facilities, we’ll begin work on an actual prototype.”
“Okay.” Moira accessed the file, which displayed several folders. Not knowing which one to open, she glanced up at Sarah, who smiled in an apologetic way.
“There is a discrete difference between the neutrinos in our respective universes. This may have been what was confusing you when you were working on the equations yesterday. The neutrinos change when we attempt time travel, which is what creates a new universe.” She gestured to Moira’s Pad. “Our equations will work once we’ve accounted for the difference. Andy says you’re a whiz at that kind of thing, so that’s your assignment. It’s all in the folder labeled Neutrino Delta. Have at it, and shout out if you have any questions.”
An hour passed, with nothing more eventful than occasional murmurs. A young boy brought in a new pot of tea, which they all ignored. Moira remembered she needed to walk around, and Sarah wandered out with her.
Moira forced the jumble of equations to the back of her mind, to focus on a different concern. “After you and Sam get back home,” she said, as Sarah matched her slow pace down the hall, “will you want to restrict travel between our universes? I wouldn’t blame you if you try to do it,” she added quickly as Sarah pursed her lips. “To prevent Sun from sending an invasion force.”
Sarah lifted a shoulder. “Sam and I talked about it last night. Of course, we have no idea how it could be done, but I ... we ... think it might be necessary to try.” She stared at the floor, her expression disturbed. “It occurred to both of us that Feldman, and others perhaps, may want to use our world as a refuge.” She touched Moira’s shoulder. “We might be willing to help in that way. But you realize that three billion people cannot all move into our world.”
“Of course not,” Moira said. “That would destroy your planet as thoroughly as this one. That’s one of the things I was worried about. No,” she shook her head, “if there’s no way to prevent interdimensional travel, then both worlds will need to set up controls. And I’m afraid our politicians will want to do all the controlling.”
“Which is another reason Sam and I are helping you here. I don’t know if the rebel alliance will do any better governing your world, but it’s obvious that the current system cannot stand. If we can assist in ... changing ... your government, perhaps that can only help us.”
Moira blew a breath out in a half laugh. “Saving the space station is about all I can concentrate on, at the moment.”
Sarah laughed. “One step at a time, I guess.”
Ahead of them, Ned rounded the corner and came toward them with quick steps. He crooked a finger without slowing. “Come with me.”
They sent each other bewildered looks, but turned and followed Ned back to the conference room. He slapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention as he continued to the side of the room, snagging the communications remote as he went. Three clicks and the wall screen switched its display from the orbiting space station to a recorded program. Ned stared at it and the others followed his lead, uncertain of what else they were supposed to do.
A news program was in progress, the bespectacled announcer staring with earnest concern into the camera as he talked. “Belfast garda are searching for a young woman who has gone missing from her Chelmsford enclave.”
Moira closed her eyes in slow horror when her recent school photograph displayed on the screen. She felt Sarah shift next to her, then place a hand across her shoulders. She opened her eyes, but fixed them on the screen. She didn’t dare look at Andy.
“Moira Sherman was reported missing two days ago, by her stepfather, Reverend Cyrus Sherman, who heads the enclave. Investigators have now revealed a shocking development: she may have been kidnapped by a trusted teacher, Mr. Andrew Green, of Oxford.”
“Oh no,” Moira murmured, as Andy’s teacher photo appeared next to hers on the screen.
“As a welfare student at Oxford University, Mr. Green was assigned to teach at Strickert Academy for Girls, also in Oxford. He was recently employed by Sun Corporation, in their student-assistant program. He was sent, two days ago, to the Belfast office of Sun Headquarters. Investigators believe he kidnapped Miss Sherman before leaving for Belfast. Her stepfather reported evidence of a violent altercation in his home, and believes his daughter tried to resist her kidnapper. They are concerned she might be injured, and indeed, in these surveillance photos taken on the air-train, she appears to be drugged and lethargic.”
On cue, a video started, showing Moira swaying unsteadily in a train car, as Andy guided her to a seat. Moira had to admit she looked pretty bad, despite the careful preparation she’d given to her appearance that day. She was surprised that Security had even let her through. From the corner of her eye, she saw Andy shaking his head.
“In an ominous twist,” the announcer continued, “Sun has just reported that Mr. Green has vanished from his assigned location, absconding with vital, and irreplaceable, Sun property. They now suspect he is working with Ned O’Malley’s Rebel Alliance, and Sun has joined in this investigation. Miss Sherman remains missing, and is believed to be a prisoner of the Belfast rebel cell. We are joined now by Reverend Sherman, the missing girl’s stepfather.”
Moira felt her chin come up in defiance at the sight of her stepfather. She was grateful for Sarah’s steady presence beside her, and wondered if she might have to be the first person to request asylum from Sarah’s free world.
The reporter asked, “Mr. Sherman, how does your stepdaughter fit into this? It seems strange that Mr. Green would call attention to himself by kidnapping her, just before he steals vital property from his employer.”
Moira shuddered as Cyrus’ voice filled the room. “I doubt she has anything to do with it, sir. It appears that Andrew Green worships the baser sins of human nature, giving in to the temptation of female flesh. It is possible that his appointed welfare representative made a serious error by placing him at a school for girls. Someone so young, and alone in the world, would have no resistance to such a strong pull of Satan. Women cannot always control their evil natures, as Eve demonstrated so clearly for us. I hoped my daughter would be safe at Strickert, with no unchaperoned exposure to men or boys. I was mistaken.”
“So you think the events are unrelated?”
“I think that, with his employment at Sun, Andrew Green knew he would no longer have access to young girls, and perhaps to my daughter, specifically. I think he kidnapped her in a moment of extreme weakness and evil desire. He then continued with his rebel assignment, and my daughter ...” his voice broke, and Moira shook her head as he rubbed an eye, “ ... my daughter must be dead to us, now. I believe she tried to resist, but God’s law is clear: she must be put to death. I only pray that Mr. Green will be brought to justice, as well.”
The announcer responded with an appropriate murmur of sympathy. The image of Moira’s stepfather went away, replaced with the front quad at Strickert, and the announcer continued. “Amanda Spencer-Lionel, Headmistress at Strickert, insists that her students are properly chaperoned at all times. However, investigators have received reports that a clandestine relationship may have existed between teacher and student. They allowed our reporter to talk to one student.”
A video replaced the announcer, showing a reporter sitting next to a girl in a Strickert uniform. The girl’s back was to the camera, but Moira knew beyond any doubt that it was Grace.
“You were close to the kidnapped girl?” the reporter asked.
“Yes. We were friends.” The words were garbled, as if Grace were speaking with food in her mouth.
“To your knowledge, was there anything unusual about her relationship with Mr. Green?”
“She ... liked him. All the girls knew it. They called her Teacher’s Pet. Not me. But some of the other girls.”
“Did she tell you she liked him?”
“Yes, she did.”
Moira groped for the chair behind her, and she sank slowly onto it. Grace was lying.
“Did she ever say that Mr. Green returned her feelings? Did he do or say anything inappropriate?”
Grace was silent for a few seconds, her head hanging down. Then she whispered, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Miss. You’ll need to speak up.”
“Yes.” Stronger, this time. She lifted her head. “He often had her in his office after hours. She was his T.A. He wanted her to ... do things. She was afraid not to.” Grace’s voice broke and she half-turned to the reporter, as if begging her to understand. Her profile revealed the shading of a bruise and a massively swollen lip. Moira held a hand to her own mouth as she watched, tasting tears and horror.
The reporter was gentle. “What things, Miss? Did she tell you what he wanted?”
Tears tracked the bruised cheek, and Grace shook her head, turning away so they saw only her back again. “Please don’t make me say it again.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
Grace glanced at the reporter. “What?” A shadow of movement came from the side, away from the camera’s sight, and Grace looked that way, uncertain.
“Why didn’t you tell the Headmistress what you knew?” The reporter spoke quickly, but her lips tightened as she followed Grace’s gaze to the side. She touched Grace’s shoulder. “Never mind. You’re upset, so I won’t bother you any longer. Thank you for speaking with me.”
The announcer came back, promising to keep everyone updated. Ned flicked the screen off.
Moira stared at Andy, who returned her gaze, his face pale, and his jaw clenched so tightly, it had to hurt. She could see that he wanted to ask. She knew he wouldn’t.
“I never told Grace any of those things,” she said. He had to believe her. “Did you see her? They beat her, Andy.” Her chest heaved in a great sob. “They hurt her and it’s my fault. She’s ruined now. And the Lioness ... the school ...”
Andy knelt beside her. She saw her guilt mirrored in his eyes. “Yes, I saw. I know you would never tell her such things.”
“Now why,” Ned said, his voice softly threatening, “would they go to the trouble of doctoring the story?”
Andy stood, glancing first at Pete, who just raised a brow. He turned to Ned, who held out a hand to stop him.
“Tell me first, what part of the story is true?”
“The part about Grace and me being friends,” Moira said. She stood, to add her support to Andy.
Ned regarded Moira for several seconds before turning back to Andy. “Is that what you say, too?”
Andy was silent, as if thinking through the broadcast. Everyone watched him. Moira knew she wouldn’t be able to draw a breath until he spoke. At last he nodded.
“Yes. That, and the information about my background. I was a welfare student, I was appointed to teach at Strickert, and I was just hired by Sun two days ago.” He glanced at Moira. “I think it’s obvious that we have feelings for each other. But it’s not the vulgar, ugly thing they are saying it is.” He met Ned’s gaze with steady eyes. “Everything else is conjecture and outright lies.”
Ned’s sudden laugh startled them all. “You have to admire them, sometimes,” he said to the room at large. “Masters of spin, aren’t they?”
Moira burst into tears.
“They beat her.” She felt Andy’s arm go around her, and she leaned against him, glad when he wrapped both arms around her. She sobbed into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry about that, lass,” Ned said. “They will do whatever they think is necessary. They always have.”
“Which brings us back,” Pete said, “to the question of why? Why do they think it was necessary?”
“Convenience, I think,” Andy said, patting Moira’s back. “They’ve connected me to rebel activity, which most of the public would secretly have sympathy for. But if they can paint me as a monster, no one will condone anything I do.”
“And everyone will be looking for you,” Karen said. “And by extension, us.”
The screen buzzed. Everyone turned at the sound, as if glad for the distraction. Moira used the moment to step away from Andy and pull out a handkerchief. Ned checked the incoming-call ID and put the call on the screen.
“Arkady, what do you have?”
“I got two bombs, is what I got. One of ‘em live.”
Moira turned to face the screen, her gasp echoing Sarah’s. The screen showed a thin man in the blue NISS uniform, blond hair cut short, his blue eyes creased and fearful in a stern face. Behind him, a window looked out on a hallway, and beneath the window Moira could see part of a console, with screens, buttons, and a holographic display. Someone sat in a chair in front of the console, halfway out of the camera’s view.
“Where?” Ned asked. “How much time?”
“Six hours. The second bomb was partially assembled. They must be smuggling the components up and someone here puts ‘em together.” Arkady leaned closer to the camera, as if to keep his words from being heard. “Rhyder has ‘em. He caught my team while they were reporting to me. Took possession of the bombs, and said he’d handle it. I wanted to do an Abandon Station, but he nixed it. Said they had it under control. Thanked my team for doing a good job.” Arkady ended with a growl.
“Damn.” Ned whispered the word, and Moira saw his dismay. “Do you know where he took them?”
“Aft cargo station, according to Rhyder. Said it was the safest place to defuse the thing. Says he’s sure there aren’t any more than this, but he’ll have his people search. He won’t let us assist.”
“We’re out of time.” Ned turned to Sam. “Security on NISS is controlled by Sun. Rhyder is head of security, working directly under Feldman.” He held out a hand, begging. “You’ve got to get us on that station now. I can send a team of fighters to take on Security while the rest of us search for bombs, and you set up your bridges to transport them off.”
“You want us to go to a space station that could blow up at any time?” Sarah clutched Sam’s arm, anger lining her face. But her eyes watched the scene on the screen, and Moira followed her gaze, watching as a group of school children wandered past the window behind Arkady.
“You have children up there,” Sarah said, as if just realizing it.
“It’s a colony,” Ned said. “Workers bring their families to live there.”
Sam reached for CERBO. “Get everyone in here you want to send. I’ll get the bridge programmed.”
“Feldman will see the bridge when we activate it,” Andy said. “They’ll be here in five minutes. Or less.”
“Fuck me.” Ned grabbed his Pad and his fingers danced a short pattern over the keys. All over the room, personal Pads jingled in a rapid series of repeating rings. People instinctively grabbed their Pads, and Moira heard Ned’s voice coming from all over the room as he spoke into his.
“Red alert, folks. I’m initiating self-destruct, Plan 2A. Repeat: Plan 2A. Security, report to the conference room, tasers and hand weapons only.” He glanced to Sam. “How long before the first bridge is ready?”
Sam waved a hand. “Five minutes.”
Ned went back to his Pad. “Begin self-destruct immediately. You have ten minutes, folks.”
Sam spoke up before Ned finished closing his connection. “I need a space large enough to send people into. Coordinates.”
Ned turned to the screen, and flipped the microphone to the station. “Arkady, give us a clear space big enough for eight people at once.”
On the screen, Arkady motioned to someone off screen. The camera changed to show a woman. She slammed a headset on and tapped a screen to her side, glancing into her camera at Ned. “Theatre’s the best bet. The stage is empty.”
“Give us the coordinates.”
She tapped another set of buttons and nodded. “On your screen.”
Sam glanced up. At the same time, three guards rushed into the room, dressed in full riot gear, and bristling with weapons. Sam ignored them. “Sarah, Andy, Moira, work on that equation. I want the same answer from all of you before I send human beings out on this thing.”
Moira grabbed her Pad, her fingers trembling as she entered the coordinates into the equation. The tricky part was accounting for the station’s rotation. She didn’t look up, but she could sense Andy and Sarah working on either side of her. It’s not a race, she reminded herself. You don’t have to be first, you just have to be correct.
She heard Ned briefing the security team as he grouped them together in the center of the room. Her Pad displayed an answer and she stared at it, reviewing the steps in her mind, looking for an error. Andy stopped working, and a few seconds later, Sarah did, too. Not finding any errors, Moira sent her own answer to Sam’s Pad, then went back over her equation again. Just in case.
“Got it.” Sam said. He looked to Ned, who held up a finger.
“Real quick. Tell them what to expect. No one’s ever done this before.” Ned flashed a strangely nervous smile at the guards, reminding Moira that these weren’t just random soldiers. The people who worked here were all friends. “Lisa, Phil, Trevor,” Ned seemed to be naming them as a solemn acknowledgement. “Listen up and don’t panic. Do us proud.”
They all nodded and turned pale faces to Sam. “You just stand where you are,” Sam said, his eyes moving from one to the other. “In one second, you’ll find yourself standing on the stage on NISS. No weird feelings, no sounds, no visions.” He glanced around the room. “Those of us who remain will hear a clap of thunder, due to atmosphere displacement after the people leave. It’s just the molecules slamming together. Perfectly normal phenomenon.”
Ned nodded. “The rest of you, get ready. As soon as we send the first team, Sun will know where we are. We leave within a minute.”
“Yes,” said Sam. “That means you three,” he gestured to the guards, “will need to move off the stage posthaste. We don’t want two bodies trying to occupy the same space.”
With that odd vision in her head, Moira began stuffing Pads and paraphernalia into her backpack. Everyone but Sam was doing the same thing. She felt her heart racing, but didn’t know if was fear or excitement.
Ned said, “Go,” and Sam positioned his fingers on the keyboard, eyes on the squad, who stared back at him, grim and alert. Two men, one woman. Lisa, Phil, Trevor. Moira wondered if their names would end up in some future history book.
“On three,” Sam said. “One. Two. Three.”
Moira was watching the squad, so missed when Sam pressed the final button. She couldn’t suppress a small scream when the people vanished. The thunder that accompanied it made her jump. Andy’s arm went around her shoulders and she realized she was shaking.
Then she realized that he was shaking, too. But he didn’t hesitate, just nudged her forward to stand where the squad had been. She remembered that he had done this already, when he and Sam and Sarah escaped from Sun.
It wasn’t just the bridge travel that had her rattled. She’d heard all her life about NISS, and in the last few years, she had learned a great deal about it. She knew it was pressurized, and that spin provided artificial gravity. She wasn’t afraid of going there. Awed, perhaps. Overwhelmed, and with no time to mentally prepare.
As the others crowded around her, and Andy kept his arm firmly around her shoulders, she glanced upwards, as if she could see the sky, and the star that was NISS. But as her eyes looked up, she found herself staring at a catwalk, lined on two sides with royal blue drapes. Around her, people sighed in relief. Ned said, “Bugger me!” in a reverential tone.
She glanced at Andy, who was looking down at her, his grin tremulous. The arm he held around her tightened in a quick squeeze, then he released her. The guards, who had followed Sam’s instructions and jumped off the stage as soon as they arrived, now clambered back up, big grins wreathing their pale faces.
“Ya gotta tell me how you do that!” Lisa declared. Ned shook off his dazed state and waved a hand.
“They’ll tell us later. We’ve got the element of surprise here, people. Let’s use it. Guards point and aft. You’re going to clear our path to any bombs we find.” He tapped his ear. “Arkady, we’re in.”
“Bloody hell. How’d you get here so fast?” Arkady did not sound convinced.
“Ask me later, mate. Where’s the closest bomb from here?”
“I’m sending you the coords of where I think both of them are. But remember, the Sunnies have possession of them.”
“So we’ll convince them to give ‘em up. Where’re your teams?”
“All over, just like a normal day. They’re covering each other to take breaks and search for bombs, but they have to do it in secret, and it’s slow. The Sunnies are making it hard. Us finding those bombs tripped ‘em up, but they’ve been planning this for a long time. We’re just an annoyance.”
“Okay.” Ned flipped up the virtual station map on his Pad. Moira could see blue dots moving around as he continued speaking. “I’m sending you a couple of civvies. They have a job to do, but your work takes priority, if you need ‘em.”
“Got it. Arkady out.”
Ned pointed at Karen, his eyes still on the map. “Take Sarah and Moira to the communications center, then join the search for bombs.”
“You’re splitting us up?” Sarah threw a nervous glance at Sam as she interrupted Ned. Moira understood how she felt.
“Yeah,” Ned said. “You two keep working on the prototype. We might need it. Andy can help Sam with the bombs.” Sarah opened her mouth and he held up a hand. “I don’t need a bunch of noncombatants to babysit. My priority is to protect Sam and the machine.” He raised a brow at Andy. “You grew up in a free village. Know how to use a taser?”
“Yep.” Andy caught the gun Ned tossed to him.
Moira shook her head. “You have a lot of strange talents, Andy.”
He grinned, but Ned wasn’t waiting for banter. “Move out, people. We don’t have much time.”
Karen headed for the door. Moira started after her, but stopped when Sarah held her ground and glared at Sam. “Don’t die,” she said.
Sam brushed a kiss on her lips. “Same to you.”
Sarah gave a sharp nod. Her lips were tight when she turned to catch up with Karen. Moira glanced at Andy, realizing for the first time that they could die up here. And we’ve never kissed at all.
He must have been thinking the same thing, for his gaze dropped to her mouth, but he just winked at her before falling in next to Sam. Shouldering her backpack, Moira left him to his job, and went to do hers.