Vio scowled at him and would have liked to refuse, but her throat was incredibly dry and her thirst was nearly overpowering. In the end she tried to reach out but found that both of her hands were actually shackled to the seat. She glanced down and realized her legs were likewise secured.
“Agent Blakely,” Armstrong said calmly, though his eyes betrayed his nervousness. “Uncuff her left hand.”
Blakely grunted and pulled himself up using the back of Vio’s seat. He jostled her slightly and she had to fight down the urge to vomit. The man, Blakely, was large, incredibly so, and had to stoop in order to keep his head from grazing the ceiling of the hallway. He reached onto his belt and pulled out a set of keys tied there and with one quick motion released the metal restraint holding her left arm captive to her seat. Vio flexed her wrist and reached for the water just as a loud and growing scream erupted from just beyond the walls of the hallway. Vio’s eyes widened and she instinctively pulled her hand back as the screaming noise grew louder and louder. Avigail stirred and her eyes flew open, her face a mask of fear.
“It’s alright,” Armstrong explained. “It’s just the engines. We’ll be taking off shortly. Here take the aspirin…you’ll feel better,” he added and held the pellets closer to Vio. Impossibly the engines grew even louder. Vio snatched up the pellets and threw them into her mouth, chewing quickly. They tasted terrible and she made a face of disgust and reached for the water.
Armstrong and Blakely laughed. “You’re not supposed to chew them,” Blakely told her as Vio gulped down the water in three large swallows.
“They’re horrible,” Vio finally managed, struggling to get the taste off of her tongue. Armstrong stood and went back down the aisle. After a moment he returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, plus a couple of white pellets for Avigail, not an easy feat for a man with one hand, but he held the cups to his chest with his forearm and held the aspirin and pitcher together with his good hand. He set the pitcher down and held the pellets out to Avigail who took them cautiously just as the hallway they were in began to move. Vio’s attention swiveled to the nearest window and she watched as the scene outside began to move slowly by. Vio leaned over to get a better look out the small window. She could see they were on some kind of paved road and surmised that the hallway was some kind of moving vehicle, but what it was exactly she could not imagine.
“Don’t chew them,” Blakely told Avigail as he released her right hand. Avi nodded and popped the pills into her mouth; she held them on her tongue momentarily as she took the cup of water from Armstrong. She washed them down expertly; sighing at the relief she felt as the cool liquid ran down her throat and then held her cup out for more. Vio was also drinking, but they both paused as the hallway turned sharply to the left. It rolled a bit farther and then suddenly came to a stop.
“We’ll be up shortly,” Armstrong told them. “Drink,” he added and both women shared a look of apprehension and then finished their water. Armstrong took their cups and nodded to Blakely who quickly secured their free arms. Once more the large man took a seat directly behind Vio while Armstrong fastened some kind of rope around his waist in the seat across from her and directly in front of Avigail. Vio glanced down and was surprised to see that she was also roped around the waist, but then the hallway began to move again and she glanced out the window, her eyes wide with excitement.
Faster and faster they went, the acceleration actually pushing Vio forcibly back into her seat. Vio was dumbstruck and glanced at Avigail whose mouth was open in a look of shared wonder. The landscaped beyond was flying past and still their speed increased, the wheels of the vehicle thumping against the pavement in an ever increasing rhythm until gradually something odd began to happen; the hallway began to tip upwards and quite suddenly the wheels stopped their thumping as the hallway lifted completely into the air.
“Ooooooh…” Vio whispered as she suddenly realized they were on an airplane…a flying machine…and it was wonderful! And then quite quickly the ground before them began to fall away. Higher and higher they went with Vio’s eyes locked on the rapidly receding landscape. Fear quickly gripped her; fear so strong she barely recognized it and she actually fought against her restraints until Armstrong reached out and touched her arm with his good hand.
“It’s perfectly safe,” he told her, his face and voice calm. Vio glared at him, wild-eyed but then realized her breathing was out of control. She closed her eyes and quickly regained her composure. When she reopened them, Armstrong was smiling at her. She found that strange. She had taken this man’s hand, crippled him for life, but here he was smiling and acting kind toward her. She didn’t understand. As she pondered it, she turned and glanced out the window once more and gasped.
“Isn’t it great?” Avigail said with a laugh, momentarily forgetting her worry for Galen, who as far as she knew was still in the Far Lands.
The ground was now so far below that Vio could barely make out individual trees. Buildings that Vio knew to be incredibly large were the size of small rocks, cars were just dots and people were now nearly invisible, and as she stared the plane flew higher and faster still.
“Where…where are we going?” Vio asked Armstrong, who frowned momentarily.
“New Mexico,” he answered, “to Cryogen. There are doctors who would like to run tests on you.”
“Tests?” Avigail asked very suspicious. “What kind of tests? Where is Galen? And Adam and Christine?”
Armstrong fidgeted for a moment clearly uncomfortable. Vio could feel his concern and wondered at it.
“Galen and the rest are safe…back in Chicago,” Armstrong told them hurriedly and Vio could detect no hint of deceit in him.
“Galen is safe?” Avigail insisted. Armstrong nodded. “He’s to hold a press conference when he wakes…to show the public he’s alive and well and that the United States Government means him no harm.”
“Press…conf..” Vio asked slowly.
“It means he’ll go on TV,” Armstrong explained and both women nodded. They knew what TV meant. Vio glanced out the window once more as the plane moved higher and up past a sporadic layer of white puffy clouds. In moments she was looking down at them, the magic of the moment captivating her completely.
“These tests…” she vaguely heard Avigail ask. “They will be safe?”
Armstrong paused for just a split second and Vio jerked her head to stare at him. “Yes…they are safe,” he answered, but now Vio did not believe him.
“They mean to kill us?” She asked softly and Armstrong’s face colored but he shook his head.
“No,” he insisted. Vio could feel no strength in his words but still the concern for them remained readily apparent.
“Why do you care?” Vio suddenly asked him and Armstrong’s cheeks went red betraying his emotions. “You do care, don’t you?” She asked when he did not answer.
Armstrong remained silent for a moment and took a quick glance back at Blakely but the man remained ever passive and just looked straight ahead as if he was not following the conversation.
“I want to know who you are,” Armstrong said in a whisper, “and where you come from?”
Avigail laughed. “We can tell you that,” she said naively. “I’m Avigail Massi, Princess of the Inland Sea and this is the Tarina Vio Valencia, Solitary of Noble Island. We come from New Earth…we came looking for Galen Dawkins who brought our ancestors to our homeland over three thousand years ago.”
Armstrong stared at the girl, his mouth open, trying to comprehend what she was telling him. After several long moments bits of it began to sink in.
“You’re telling me you two…both of you, are from the future?” He finally asked and was gratified to see Blakely shoot him a look of intense interest.
“Well…” Avigail began and then glanced at Vio for support.
“We come from another place in space and another place in time,” Vio told him. “Our past and futures are not completely entwined…yet.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Blakely asked from behind Vio, and Avigail laughed again.
“That’s what I say,” the young girl told the large man happily but Vio did not expound on her statement. They all sat in silence for a time, until Vio turned her gaze once more on Armstrong.
“My swords are gone…as are Avigail’s,” she said simply.
Armstrong nodded but said nothing.
“Are we prisoners?” Vio asked. Armstrong stared at her for a long moment, captivated by her eyes…her beauty…the utter mystical quality she emanated.
“Yes…” he finally told her. “You are prisoners. They will not let you go, at least not until they know more about you.”
Vio nodded and looked Armstrong deep in the eyes before slowly turning and glancing out the window once more. She watched the clouds move past below the plane and wondered how Traveling would work from such a height. It would be a challenge for sure, but at least they had one ally on the plane. Agent Armstrong would come to their aid…she was sure of it. He’d said very plainly, “They will not let you go…” meaning he did not include himself among their enemies. He was a friend. He was on their side…even if he did not yet fully realize it.
†
It was not even three minutes into the press conference when a young lady from a Seattle newspaper stood and asked the question Christine most feared.
“Mr. Galen,” the woman said with a sweet, sappy smile. “Despite what Cryogen maintains, do you believe you are the clone of Jesus Christ?”
Christine swallowed hard and took a quick peek at Ian, who was sitting on the opposite side of Galen. Her old boss was frowning but thus far had refrained from making any comment.
Galen on the other hand, chuckled and a few reporters in the front row laughed with him.
‘He’s very good with crowds,’ Christine thought and felt herself calm slightly as Galen shifted his hand so that it was resting against her forearm.
“No,” Galen replied with confidence, “the one thing I am very sure of is that I’m not a clone of the man called Jesus.” He spoke calmly, with the ever-present smile on his face, and Christine was relieved that he definitively denied being a clone. She really couldn’t understand the public’s continued confusion. It was very irritating.
“If I may,” Ian finally said. “Cryogen maintains nothing. Galen is not a genetic copy of the person captured on the shroud. He has half dozen manmade genes in his genetic code, plus half of his DNA was supplied by Dr. Dawkins here. A clone is an exact copy of a single organism, and Galen is far from that.”
The immediate chatter of over a hundred journalists filled the large room and hands shot up everywhere all at once. Ian pointed to a man in the second row.
“Phil Dawson, Minneapolis Star Tribune,” he began. “You say this person has manmade genes in him…if that is the case is he truly human at all?”
Another outburst filled the air but quickly dissipated.
“Of course he’s human,” Christine blurted, interrupting Dr. Crane, who couldn’t quite hide a scowl at the slight.
“How so?” Another voice called out from the crowd, this time from a reporter who was not recognized.
“If I may…” Crane began and shot a warning look at his old colleague. Christine rolled her eyes but nodded. “A human being is made up of countless pieces of genetic code, the number of genes in our DNA is staggering and the number of possible combinations is a universe in itself. We are all different…unique in that respect, yet we are all human. D17…Galen is no different. Some of his genetic code is different from my own, but his genetics do not differ from mine to any greater degree than any of yours do. He is human…do not doubt that.”
Hands shot up and Crane, basking in the spotlight, pointed to a woman in the fourth row all the way on the north side of the room.
“Jean Jackson, Des Moines Register,” she introduced. “But if he is human as you contend, why was he scheduled to be terminated?”
Ian blanched and glanced at Christine who smiled sweetly at him and showed no inclination to interrupt this time. Crane paused a moment, swallowed and then spoke very confidently.
“Galen was an experiment, an experiment in which we hoped to gain a better understanding in the genetic rules that apply to the aging process,” he began. “By conducting such work we hope to one day be able to completely understand why the human body ages as it does and perhaps control the process, possibly extending the life expectancy of human beings indefinitely. Galen’s genetic code was altered so that he aged and developed very quickly. He is only three years old and should be at the end of his life cycle before he reaches the age of eight or nine.”
Crane paused for a moment but the room remained utterly quiet.
“He was scheduled to be terminated once we’d collected all the data necessary and before the boy became aware of his terminal situation,” Ian continued solemnly, “to spare him any unnecessary psychological pain.” Christine rolled her eyes. “Of course that is now out of our hands.”
Still the group of journalist remained unnaturally quiet for a few moments as they soaked in this new information. They all stared at Galen, and though he was not yet three, he now looked more like a young man nearing the age of twenty. The quiet calm continued for another thirty seconds before a half dozen hands popped up out of the crowd.
“Terry Northam, Akron Beacon Journal,” said a large fat man near the back of the room. “So the boy will now be able to live out his limited lifetime?”
Ian nodded but before he could answer, Galen spoke up loud and clear. “Yes, the FBI and the DOE have agreed that I will be free to live out my life as I see fit,” Galen said and Agent Garcia glanced over at Agent Rebecca Collier, who shrugged; neither had the authority to contradict the claim. “We will be leaving for St. Louis directly after this press conference,” he added.
Christine gasped with surprise and Ian frowned and then added. “Once you’ve been medically cleared,” he said leaning over and speaking directly to Galen, who smiled and shook his head.
“The good people of the United States must know that I am free of Cryogen,” Galen answered. “I will go to St. Louis; they have a top notch genomics center in the city. I will select my own doctor when I arrive.”
Dr. Crane said nothing.
“Why St. Louis? There are excellent facilities right here at the University of Chicago.” a voice from out in the audience questioned.
Galen turned and stared the questioner directly in the eye and then he smiled. It was a huge smile full of happiness and those near the front of the room were suddenly overwhelmed with an unexpected joy.
“I’ve an appointment to meet some friends,” Galen answered and then stood, signaling that the conference was over.
†
Vio knew that nothing could be done while they were chained to the chairs of the flying airplane and so as she was taught so long ago on Noble, she relaxed and waited. Of course she could open a bridge almost instantly, but neither she or Avigail could cross over bound as they were to the plane, so what was the point. Vio was not even sure what would happen if she opened a bridge so high up in the sky. She felt sure that she could project from any height, after all, her mental essence flew high across the lands of the Inland Sea during every projection, but she was not at all sure how the bridge would react to the speed of their travels…and they were going fast…very fast. It was nearly an hour after takeoff before the flying men made their first…and last mistake. Blakely, the man who carried the keys to freedom on his belt stood to stretch and then came around to check on his prisoners. The large man leaned over and tapped Vio on the shoulder.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked and for an instant…just an instant, the keys on his belt were within reach of Vio’s chained left hand. But for Vio, who blinked once and shifted time, that instant turned into one minute, then two and then three before finally the keys were free. The silence after the constant noise of the engines was a bit eerie,
but Vio ignored everything but the task at hand as she tried key after key in the tiny metal locks as her captures remained frozen in time. Again and again she failed to find the correct match and her hands began to shake from the effort of holding time still. Twice she nearly dropped the ringed set, which would have put an end to her attempt but finally on the second to last key she found the right one and her bindings parted without a sound. She quickly freed her leg rings and gently pushed Blakely back. She stood shakily and released Avigail from her shackles as rapidly as she could. A wave of dizziness hit her just as she’d finished and she knew she must release time soon or be weakened beyond all hope.
She was losing her strength fast, though at the moment she was sure she could Travel. Still, once Avigail was free, Vio immediately released time. Blakely just had time to gasp in surprise before she struck him hard against the bridge of his nose with the flat of her hand. She felt the cartilage and bone give beneath the power of the blow and suddenly the front of Blakely’s shirt was awash with bright red blood. He staggered but didn’t go down. He was very, very big, so Vio hit him twice more, once in the right temple and then a quick strike to his jaw. He fell back across the aisle and sagged unconscious across the chairs.
Vio spun and caught sight of Armstrong, who was turning about, his attention drawn by the commotion. The two men farther up the aisle were also attracted by the sounds of the struggle and began to stand. They were also enormous men, but she ignored them all and closed her eyes in a concentrated effort to project. She staggered as her stomach clenched up in pain.
“Avigail!” Vio said loudly and quickly. “You will have to project. Take us down,” Vio told the girl, and Avi instantly realized what had happened. She nodded and set immediately to the task.
“Hold!” one of the men from the front yelled and drew his revolver.
“No wait!” Armstrong shouted holding his arms up high. “Don’t shoot in the plane!”
The Best of All Possible Worlds Page 42