There was a general chuckle from those who were familiar with the singularly impatient and unsympathetic nature of the ship’s owner.
The Captain’s tone sobered a bit as he went on. “I honestly consider myself the luckiest captain in the galaxy. And if I am worthy of the rank, it is only because I am surrounded by such a worthy team. Thank you again.”
He raised his glass for a toast, and the rest of us followed his lead. Then he sipped at his champagne and the rest of us did the same—though the bubbles made my nose feel funny, and I didn’t want to drink the rest of it.
“To the Surveyor,” he said, and sat down.
Looking back, the best way I could describe the evening was warm and satisfying. To call it a meeting was certainly a misnomer, but I wouldn’t have labeled it a party, either. It was a family gathering, a uniting of familiar souls before they separated for a time. The roast and potatoes the hotel provided was excellent and the general mood was relaxed—as if we were all exhaling after holding our breaths for a very long time. We talked, laughed, and hugged, and the only things marring the occasion were Almira’s absence and the premonition of what the next weeks could hold, which had settled in my stomach and refused to go away.
After awhile I found myself too tired to converse and I retreated to one side of the room a little ways apart from the group. I leaned against the wall and watched each person—Olive hanging on McMillan’s arm and laughing her beautiful laugh, the Captain exerting his charisma in his effortless way with each crewman present, August embroiled in a discussion with Whales which left him mostly listening to the science officer’s expertise, the Doctor trying to hold relaxed conversations even though I knew that his mind was still on his research.
I was so lost in my own observations that I didn’t really notice when Guilders approached and leaned against the wall beside me until he said, “How are you feeling?”
I turned and smiled ruefully. “Et tu, Guilders?”
His eyes smiled, even though the rest of his face remained unmoved.
I looked back towards the group and shrugged. Unlike everyone else, that seemed to be enough for him and he stood beside me without prying further.
“How are you?” I countered after a few moments of companionable silence.
He furrowed his bushy white eyebrows, and I wished I hadn’t asked. He couldn’t be anything but embarrassed by his behavior during the reversal zone debacle. “I am grateful that I was able to contain myself sufficiently to perform my duty.”
I tried to hide my smile. It was a very Guilders answer.
The next question was probably only due to my tiredness, feelings of nostalgic fondness, and the funny way my nose still felt. “Do you ever pray, Mr. Guilders?”
He studied my face for a moment, and I couldn’t read his eyes. “No.”
That was all, and I didn’t feel on sufficiently close footing with him to question further. Even if the bubbly, queasy feeling had propelled me on, I wouldn’t have been able to prod him anymore because the Doctor and August approached.
“We need to get some rest, Andi,” the Doctor said, reddened eyes looking even more tired than I felt.
I nodded and turned to wrap my arms around Guilders. As always the affection seemed to surprise him but he returned the hug, his arms stiffly pulling me close before letting go. Then with a last glance at everyone in the room, I followed my father and brother out of the conference room.
If I could have foreseen the events of the next few months, I would have stayed in that room until the sun came up—no matter how tired I was.
***
A knock on my hotel room door woke me the next morning. The first knock was part of my dream, the second pulled me out, and the third brought me slowly to reality.
“Andi?” a muffled voice called. The knock continued. “It’s time to get up. Our meeting is in an hour.”
I forced my eyelids to uncover my eyes and let in the glaring light of morning. Meeting. Get up. An hour.
“I’m awake,” I tried to say, but it came out rather incoherently. I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the door, still not certain whether I was really awake, and leaned against the fake wood. “I’m awake,” I tried again.
The Doctor seemed to understand. “Wear something professional. I’ll bring some breakfast for you to eat on the way.”
The only “professional” outfit I had was my uniform so I wore that, hoping it was appropriate. By the time the Doctor knocked again about thirty minutes later, my hair was brushed and I was mostly awake.
When I opened the door I couldn’t help staring a little.
“What?” he asked, handing me a warm paper bag that smelled like blueberries.
“You look nice,” I commented, surveying the button-down shirt, slacks, and pressed gray jacket.
“You don’t have to be so surprised,” he grunted. I laughed and hugged him.
He got a taxi, which turned out to be much less shiny and less smooth than Crash’s car, to take us to the meeting. Apparently the senator’s local offices were only a few blocks from the hotel.
“He’s going to want to hear everything we know about the radialloy,” the Doctor explained on the ride. “I know you’re not always comfortable talking about it, but...”
I nodded, and reached out to pat a rebellious lock of his hair into place. “Do you... really think he can help?”
“He’s put a lot of money into finding a cure. I don’t know if it’s because he actually cares or because he thinks it’ll get him votes, but either way—he seems to know more about it than anyone else I’ve heard from. At least, he says he does. We’ll have to see.”
I shook my head. “You’re always so skeptical.”
He just smiled at me, which said everything I knew he was thinking. Yes, and how many times have I been right in my suspicions?
Either way, he was right about one thing. Pure-hearted philanthropist or self-serving politician, this man was our best bet for helping me stay alive. Not to mention the other people who would be saved if we could find an alternate cure.
I opened my paper bag and was pleased to find a large blueberry muffin accompanied by a boiled egg. I ate both items in a few bites.
“The problem is, Langham’s disease affects such a small percentage of such a limited demographic.” The Doctor sighed. He rubbed his forehead, which caused the contrary lock of gray hair to pop out of place again. “It’s hard for even the people who are interested to get grants or any kind of funding.”
When we entered the building, a brown, angular structure which was much smaller than the hotel, the Doctor told the front desk attendant—a normal human this time—why we were there. The man smiled and directed us to the fifth floor. There we were greeted by a sharp young woman in a tailored suit who ushered us into an inner room with comfortable chairs and fake plants, where we awaited the arrival of the senator.
We waited for about five minutes before the door behind us swung open and a tall man in a suit walked in carrying a computer with a handle styled like an old-fashioned briefcase. His impressive physique was evident under his jacket and maroon-striped tie, and he was well-groomed with just the appropriate amount of stubble on his face. He greeted us both with a hurried smile, and approached to shake hands with each of us.
“Doctor Lloyd, Miss Lloyd. James Edmunds. It’s a pleasure.”
We returned the pleasantry, and he settled down into a chair across the desk from us, set his computer on the wooden surface, sat back, and clasped his hands together.
“I beg your pardon if this is abrupt, but we are here on a matter of business... correct?” At a nod from the Doctor, he continued. “Let me be sure I have the facts straight, then. Miss Lloyd has the only known remaining specimen of radialloy, and is the only known survivor of Langham’s disease, but a recent radioactive incident has left the alloy unable to continue to treat her. You’re looking for an alternate cure. Correct so far?”
“Yes,” the Doctor affirmed.
“Very good.” He leaned forward and deftly unlocked his computer, then turned to me. “My condolences on your situation.”
“Thank you,” I said, putting on a smile.
“I’m curious, Senator...” the Doctor began as Edmunds opened the computer and tapped the screen. A look from the man encouraged him to continue. “Do you know someone who’s suffered from this disease?”
The senator smiled. “I wish I could say yes. It would humanize my cause, wouldn’t it? But no. I’ll admit, I came upon this particular issue while looking for something to boost public opinion. I’m sure that sounds cold. But if I can do good, does the motivation really make a difference?”
His honesty startled and intrigued me. My experience with politics and politicians was certainly limited, but I had studied government and history extensively and I hadn’t come in expecting this degree of candor.
The Doctor didn’t seem interested in discussing the motivation further. “You said you had information regarding research on this.”
The senator’s face darkened a bit. “Yes. I wasn’t comfortable divulging it by any long-distance communications media. The internet and radio both have ears, and my position could be far too easily compromised. The thing is, until recently I was funding a particular researcher who seemed to be making the most headway on the problem.”
Here he stopped, studying the screen before him. The Doctor prompted, “Until recently?”
Edmunds looked up. “Yes... I couldn’t in good conscience continue.”
My chest instinctively tightened.
He leaned forward. “The problem is, I discovered he’d been doing—human trials in his research. Not only that, but the trials were being performed on a six-year-old girl. How could I condone that?”
October 17th, 2321
11:23 a.m.
Baltimore, United States
Captain Trent looked up from the pad where he was confirming his report and resettled his focus to the spaceport windows in front of him—or rather, on what was going on on the other side of the windows. His ship, beautiful as ever on the outside but sadly battered on the inside, was swarming with repairmen. Poor thing, forced to lay useless on the ground while her soul—the people who ran her—fled separate directions across the Earth.
Well, soon they would inhabit her again. Soon enough, she would be ready to take to the stars.
The approach of his first officer pulled him from his reverie. “Problem?” he asked, glancing down at his report again before sending it off to the owner.
Guilders shook his head. “I’m not sure.”
Trent touched his screen to begin the next report, then hesitated. “You didn’t... get a call about Crash by any chance, did you?”
Guilders raised one bushy white eyebrow.
Trent sighed. “I got one. Somebody asking about his recent actions.”
“Same. I said nothing about the incident, as we agreed.”
With a firm nod, Trent signed the next report with one rapid movement of his finger across the screen. “It’s just as well. He didn’t technically do anything illegal, after all. If somebody wants to dig up some dirt on Crash, they’re going to have to do that elsewhere.”
CHAPTER V
We were quiet almost the whole ride back to the hotel. Only when we approached the huge building did I finally speak.
“Why her?”
The Doctor shook his head as the car stopped. “The only thing I can think of is that he was trying to get back at your father, since he worked with him. I don’t know what for, but...”
“By hurting a little girl?” Fury made my blood hot and I couldn’t keep still after I stepped out of the car. I kept clenching and unclenching my fists as I waited for the Doctor to transfer funds to the taxi driver.
I expected him to remind me that we didn’t know the whole situation, that we didn’t know how trustworthy Edmunds was, or just that we shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but he said none of those things. Instead he only said, “I know.”
We headed up to the room he was sharing with Crash and he pulled out his pad to unlock the door, waited for the indicator beside it to turn green, then pushed it open. As he did, we saw Crash and August cramped at a small black desk in the corner, going over papers and tablet screens. Arguing, by the looks of it.
“I know you’ve been there, but I’ve been a lot of other places,” Crash insisted, pressing the tip of his forefinger to a map on the table. “I know how to get information.”
August just looked at him and said what sounded like gibberish.
Crash scoffed and replied, “No, I don’t speak German. But I don’t have to have been there to know that most of them also speak English.”
“Yes, when they have to,” August countered. “But you won’t overhear anyone speaking in English who doesn’t have to.”
“I know. Which is why it’ll be great to have you along.”
They barely glanced up as we entered the room, and prepared to go back to their heated discussion.
“That’s enough,” the Doctor said, striding to the desk and lightly gripping one arm of each.
Crash jerked his arm away, but August visibly relaxed.
Was it my imagination, or had my brother’s confidence actually been strengthened by his time in the reversal zone?
“I’m also a lot older than you,” was Crash’s parting shot.
“Sit down, both of you,” the Doctor ordered.
They took a seat at the foot of one of the beds, and Crash finally had the decency to quiet down and listen. I leaned against the wall opposite them, still feeling much too agitated to sit.
“The situation seems to be more urgent than I thought.” The Doctor sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Which situation?” Crash asked.
“Ursula. The ‘tests’ mentioned in August’s letter seem to be drug trials, according to Senator Edmunds.”
August stiffened and I watched his eyes widen, but he kept listening.
“He says he had been funding Dred’s experiments, because Dred had been looking for a cure to Langham’s. But he backed out when he heard that Dred was using Ursula to test different possible cures.”
I shuddered as my imagination ran away with me, picturing my tiny sister alone in the corner of a dark room, hopelessly sick.
“But... she doesn’t have Langham’s disease... right?” Crash crossed his arms and looked from one of us to the other. “The odds of that would be...”
“It’s not possible,” the Doctor agreed. “She would have died long before she had a chance to be kidnapped.”
“Then...” It was August’s turn to look at each of us incredulously. “...how could he... test cures on her?”
“Edmunds doesn’t know,” I spoke up, pushing myself away from the wall and hoping that speaking would subdue the thoughts that filled me with fear. “He claims he backed out as soon as he heard about it, but he doesn’t have proof yet.”
“Let me guess,” Crash smiled ruefully, “he also doesn’t want it known that he had any part in this?”
The Doctor nodded. “If possible, yes, he’d like to—distance himself from the situation. But he wants us to get proof and help the girl in exchange for giving me access to any research he’s privy to on the matter.”
August’s pale face turned the lightest of pinks. “He’d barter with a little girl’s life to save his reputation?”
“Which is more important,” I almost snapped, “quibbling over his ethics or working with what we’ve got to help our sister?”
He blinked at me.
I closed my eyes, rubbed them, and forced myself to breathe more slowly. “Sorry.”
“Bottom line right now,” the Doctor hastened to say, “since Edmunds has withd
rawn his support, he’s no longer in contact with Dred. Right now, he knows where Dred has been working and keeping Ursula, but that could change any day if Dred suspects anything.
Crash jumped up. “So we need to get started right away.”
“As much as I wish you had more time to prepare, yes. From what I’ve heard, I don’t think the Austrian authorities are going to be much help.”
“I’m still an Austrian citizen,” August confirmed. “And Andi has no record or affiliations, so getting her into the country shouldn’t involve too much red tape.”
There was a pause, during which the three of us turned to Crash. He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ve gotten into harder places than that before. Don’t worry about me.”
Again, the Doctor sighed. “Much as that doesn’t reassure me, we don’t have time to find anyone else to go. We need to get that little girl before things get worse.”
A question had been pushing persistently at the back of my mind and now forced itself to the forefront. “And... after we get her, what then? What will we do with her?”
Silence followed on the part of all three men. It couldn’t be the first time they’d thought it, but so far no one had addressed it. August and I would be her closest family, but we weren’t prepared to raise a child, especially with the life we lived on the Surveyor.
Crash was the first to speak up. “We can cross that asteroid field when we come to it.”
“Right. We really don’t have much choice right now.” The Doctor pulled his pad out of his pocket and opened a new list. “Let’s get you three packed.”
The rest of the day was filled with packing, shopping, and discussion after discussion. Despite Crash’s protestations, the Doctor insisted we should take a train rather than fly—even though it would take three times as long—due to the relative safety. We would need snacks for the ride, which was another argument—Crash wanted to take freeze-dried, as he usually did, but the Doctor was adamant that too much of this wasn’t good for the digestive system, and we should take at least some fresher food. We would need clothes suitable for the weather, which August assured me would be frigid this time of year. We needed to purchase tickets, which Crash insisted on paying for himself. We needed to update our pads with maps and translators. We needed equipment for a fairly long hike through the forest from Vienna to the outskirts of Reichhalms, which was where Dred’s castle was. Yes, castle. According to Edmunds, Dred did his work and research in an abandoned ruined castle in the forest outside town.
Gestern Page 4