21

Back in the Present

The lids on all the pods popped open as the large propeller-like arms slowed to a stop. The team members lay in their pods just as they had been before, but now a previously empty extra pod produced a new passenger. While the rest saw the helping hands of technicians assisting them out of their pods, Samantha Weiss saw the face of her uncle ready to assault her with a bear hug the second the technician tending her stepped away.

“Samantha! You’re safe!”

He was dressed in the same clothes he’d had on when the team had left, but now looking as if he had been sleeping in them, lines earned from long hours of worrying tracing deeply through his features.

“Uncle!”

Agent Harris was there as well, still in her hospital gown and slippers, greeting Claire and Ben with a grin and sporting a cane.

“So, what’d I miss?”

“Wow!” Claire remarked as they both got to their feet. “Now that was a ride.”

“I think my stomach’s still back up in orbit,” Captain Beck remarked as he climbed out of his pod. “Though on the plus side, I don’t think I have to worry about my motion sickness anymore.”

“And the shuttle ride up, all the fantastic things we saw, those holographic park statues,” Claire excitedly listed off. “I can hardly wait to write my next article!”

“One which a certain Jeffery Nezsmith will apparently not get to read before we encounter him,” Ben added. Then to Agent Harris: “We have quite the story to tell.”

“Well, the general wants a briefing as soon as everyone’s able,” she replied. “Now, about this wedding I seem to remember someone mentioning when I was regaining consciousness. Because I’ve been having cane races with Dr. Weiss trying to get back into shape for the thing.”

Claire grinned. “Sue, we all really missed having you along.”

As Claire was giving Agent Harris a heartfelt hug, a tearful Dr. Sam Weiss was just pulling back from his niece to look her over.

“I was worried every second you were gone, my dear.”

“You can thank Lou here that I’m back at all. How long was I gone? Or for that matter, when is it anyway?”

“Friday, about ten minutes to three in the morning.”

“That means . . . tomorrow’s Saturday.”

Samantha raised her right hand to the side of her head, massaging gently while Agent Hessman came up beside her, though refraining from anything but a respectful distance in the presence of watching official eyes.

“Sam, my dear, what is it?” Dr. Weiss asked.

“I . . . Nothing. Just a little tired, I guess.”

“After all you’ve been through,” Agent Hessman said, “including coming down off those pills, you just need some rest. I’ll escort you to your room.”

“Of course,” Dr. Weiss said with a sigh of relief. “But be sure to fill me in on everything later.”

“Sure . . . Of course, Uncle.”

But as Agent Hessman started leading her away, she suddenly stopped short as a thought popped into her head.

“Of course. Tomorrow’s Saturday. I have a think tank at Caltech to attend tomorrow. Lou, do you think that you could arrange for a flight?”

“I can arrange for some bed time. You don’t look like you’re ready to go anywhere.”

“Please? This is very important.”

He looked her in the eye and saw the fatigue written therein but also the need and concern behind it.

“Devotion to duty. I can understand that. Okay. I can get a flight straight from this base, but only if you stop by the mess hall to grab something to eat and some vitamins or something.”

“I can pick up something from the infirmary and eat on the plane. Thank you, Lou.”

Dr. Weiss watched as Agent Hessman escorted his niece away, a frown crossing his features as he saw the preoccupied look on Samantha’s face.

* * *

It was later in one of the conference rooms. Dr. Weiss was sitting alone thinking to himself when Agent Harris walked in.

“Sam, you up for another cane race? I’ll even spot you five feet.”

“What? Er . . . no. Not right now.”

Agent Harris paused for a more careful look at Dr. Weiss, particularly at the way he was steepling his fingers and the worried look on his face.

“Okay, something’s wrong,” she stated. “What is it?”

“What?” he said, looking up. “Oh, nothing really. Just a little paranoid probably.”

He tried replying with a smile, but Agent Harris maintained her fixed glare.

“Okay,” he confessed, “so there’s just something a little off about Samantha.”

That’s when Agent Hessman walked in, his attention immediately fixed on the exchange.

“Off how?” Agent Harris asked.

“Well, she’s . . . usually more vivacious. I realize how much she must have been through, but I’ve seen her pull an all-nighter studying and still have enough left in her for a smile and a joke. I didn’t see that tonight. She seemed . . . unusually preoccupied. Unfocused.”

“She might still be recovering,” Agent Hessman told them. “We found her strapped to an operating table, being prepped for some procedure.”

“Yes,” Dr. Weiss said with a tired nod, “I suppose that could be it.”

“And she did still have enough left in her to hop on that plane a little bit ago,” Agent Hessman added.

Agent Harris, however, was still maintaining her focused glare, only now she directed it at Agent Hessman as she turned around to face him.

“A procedure? Lou . . . what makes you think that they didn’t already do to her whatever they were going to do? How do you know they didn’t want you to take her when you did?”

Both Agent Hessman and Dr. Weiss were silent for a moment as the import of her question sank in. Then it was Agent Hessman’s turn to ask a question.

“Sam, this think tank of Samantha’s—do you know what it’s about and who’s in it?”

“Well, near as I can get,” came the reply, “they consider any number of subjects, though I don’t know what it is currently. As far as who’s on it, there’s . . . let’s see, a Dr. Greg Stevens, Dr. Amanda Beckett, a corporate suit from one of the big biomedical companies, Dr. Dillon Marshal, and I think—”

“Wait! Did you say Dillon Marshal?”

“Why yes. Young kid, got some ideas about—”

“A plastic-eating bug that gets out of control,” Agent Hessman said quietly, cutting in.

“A what?” Agent Harris asked.

“I think Sam did mention something about Dr. Marshal coming up with a pollution solution,” Dr. Weiss remarked, “but I don’t think that—”

“It’s the Manchurian candidate,” Agent Hessman muttered.

He nearly leaped over to grab Dr. Weiss, pulling him to his feet and quickly telling him, “We’ve got a plane to catch. I’ll explain on the way.” As Dr. Weiss stood looking confused, Agent Hessman planted a quick kiss on Agent Harris’s cheek on his way toward the door.

“Sue, how I’ve missed that lovely paranoia of yours.”

He hurried out into the hall, Dr. Weiss in a fast hobble behind him, and tapped a finger to the com device in his right ear.

“This is Hessman. I need a military jet ready to fly by the time I get up to the surface. Urgent! And notify Chief Duke and Professor Stein. Samantha Weiss is in trouble.”

Hearing that was enough to make Dr. Weiss dare breaking into a run to keep up with Agent Hessman.