The Pilgrims of Rayne tpa-8
Page 32
“Don’t worry,” Dodger assured her. “I’ll scare something up for you.”
Courtney nodded. “Where will I find you?”
Dodger thought and said, “I’ll meet you on the bow in an hour. Be careful, keep moving. Avoid the crew, but don’t be obvious about it. They don’t know all the passengers yet.”
“Okay, good luck.”
“Good hunting.” Dodger tipped his cap and ducked out the door.
Courtney was alone again. The task ahead was daunting, but clear. Find Mark. Stop him. Save him, but stop him. She knew she couldn’t fail. It was all about his Forge invention. She had to get him to destroy the model. The moment it was gone, she felt sure that history would change, and all would be as it was meant to be. The dados would no longer exist on Veelox, and the war for Ibara would never begin. Bobby would be safe. Mark would be safe. Halla would be safe.
Courtney stuck her hat in her back pocket and tied her hair up to look as presentable as possible. She took off her sweater and untucked her white shirt. She then tied her sweater around her waist, hoping to look like a sporty kind of girl rather than a stowaway. She looked at her reflection in a mirror that took up an entire wall of the restaurant. She turned up her collar to try looking even more stylish. She realized it was hopeless. She was going to stick out like, well, like a stowaway. She knew her best chance of not getting caught by a crew member was not being seen by a crew member. With that impossible challenge in mind, she set out in search of Mark.
Her plan was to stick to the areas with the biggest crowds. She figured the odds of spotting Mark were better there. Just as important, she hoped to blend in. Those hopes evaporated as soon as she stepped onto the Promenade Deck. It was a wide, enclosed deck, with a ceiling and windows to protect against the elements. Though the frenzy of the boarding process had died down, the place was still alive with people. None of them looked anything like Courtney.
There would be no blending in.
The women all wore dresses or neatly tailored suits. The men were in suits and ties. Courtney always imagined a cruise to be a place where people dressed down and wore shorts and ran around having fun. That wasn’t the case in 1937. She felt like a little kid at a very grown-up party, which is pretty much exactly what she was. Worse, she had crashed the party. She decided the best thing to do was not worry about anything except finding Mark. She thought that if she skulked around looking guilty, somebody was sure to spot her and turn her in. She covered lots of ground quickly and methodically. She first traversed the entire enclosed Promenade Deck, until she ended up back where she’d started. Along the way she kept peering at the men, getting in their faces, hoping one might be Mark. All she got in return was a bunch of strange looks.
Her next step was to climb up to the Sun Deck, which was named because it had no ceiling and only a handrail along the side. Walking along this deck felt much more like being on a ship. She could feel the sun and the wind and the sea spray. Lifeboats hung high movie Titanic. She shook that image out of her head fast. There was enough to worry about without dwelling on ocean disasters.
The late afternoon sun was setting, casting warm light on the water. Courtney wished she could have stopped to enjoy it, like so many of the other passengers who leaned out over the rails. That wasn’t going to happen. She was on a mission. She passed a few people she could have sworn were stars she’d seen in ancient movies. What were their names? Clark Gable? Cary Grant? Cary Gable? She saw a chubby guy who looked like an old-time movie comedian, though she wasn’t sure if it was Laurel or Hardy. Or neither. She made a mental note of trying not to think of these people as being from the past, because on First Earth they were very much in the present. She saw hundreds of people, but no Mark.
Courtney felt much more at ease on the Sports Deck. Here passengers were playing shuffleboard and tennis. Eager sports-minded passengers were out playing in the dying sunlight. Courtney was happy to see that these players didn’t wear dresses and suits. The men wore long pants and sweaters, and the women wore loose skirts. She wanted to hang out on this deck a little more, if only because she didn’t stand out so much in the clothes she had on. It was also kind of unique to watch people playing on the deck of a moving ship at the base of the three massive orange-and-black smokestacks. It might actually have been kind of fun, if it weren’t keeping her from trying to save all of humanity.
After searching unsuccessfully for nearly an hour, it was time to head toward the bow and her rendezvous with Dodger. She realized with frustration how difficult a task finding Mark was going to be. Finding him would take a huge amount of luck. She hoped that Dodger had been able to find out where his cabin was, because running into Mark by accident seemed impossible.
The ship was way too big. As she walked toward the bow, she tried to think like Mark. Where would he go? What would he do? The obvious answer was that he’d spend most of the time in his cabin, reading. That was Mark. But Mark was curious, too. He’d never been on a ship before. He’d want to know how it worked. He’d explore. What would be one of his first things to do? She didn’t think he’d spend the whole time reading.
Reading. The realization was as simple as could be. The library. That’s where he’d go. Was there a library on this big ship? There had to be. They had everything else. Without the least bit of concern that they’d ask her who she was and if she had paid for the voyage, she marched right up to one of the stewards, who was serving drinks to a couple tucked snugly into deck chairs.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where the library is?” she asked politely.
“Certainly, miss. “It’s in Regent Street. Take the-“
“Got it, thanks,” Courtney said, and jogged off. She didn’t even look back to see what she knew would be curious stares at the bold girl in pants. She knew exactly where Regent Street was and how to get there. After being on the Queen Mary for only a few hours, she was beginning to know her way around. She quickly ran down several flights of narrow, wooden stairs that brought her back to the Promenade Deck. She entered the Regent Street shopping mall and moved quickly past the fancy shops. All she wanted was the library. She found it on the far end. She burst through the door, startling a woman behind a desk, who Courtney figured was the librarian.
“Oh!” the woman exclaimed.
“Sorry,” Courtney apologized. She scanned the small room that was ringed with shelves full of leather-bound books. Plenty of books, no people.
“Can I help you, miss?” the older woman asked pleasantly, having regained her composure.
“No, thanks,” Courtney said quickly, then got an idea and approached the desk. “Maybe you can. A friend of mine said he was going to reserve some books and wanted me to pick them up. Could you check for me?”
“Certainly,” the woman said with a slight British accent. “What would his name be?”
“Dimond. Mark Dimond.”
Courtney knew it was a total stab in the dark, but figured it might lead to some information.
“Mark Dimond?” the woman exclaimed. “Sure enough, you just missed him, dear. He picked up his books not five minutes ago.”
Courtney felt as if she’d been hit with a hammer.
“He-He did?” she stuttered. “You’re sure his name was Mark Dimond?”
“Sure as can be,” she said sweetly, looking through a stack of cards. “I spelled his name incorrectly, and he was quick to point out there was no ‘a’ in Dimond. Sweet young lad.”
Courtney was still reeling. “Dark hair? Bad skin? Glasses?”
“Yes, dear, that’s him. Is there a problem?”
“No,” Courtney blurted out. “No problem. What’s his cabin number?”
The woman held the cards close to her chest. Courtney sensed a sudden air of suspicion. “Forgive me,” she said curtly. “I’m not at liberty to give out that information. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” Courtney said as she backed toward the door. “Did he say where he was going?”
“Thank you,” Courtney said. “Thank you very much.” She turned for the door, stopped short, and looked back to the librarian. “His friend?”
“Yes. Quite the pretty girl, I must say. That Mr. Dimond must be a catch if he’s got two such lovely ladies chasing after him.”
Courtney blasted out of the library and hurried for the Promenade Deck. She nearly knocked over a steward as she launched out of Regent Street and sprinted along the wooden deck toward the stern of the ship. She didn’t care who gave her a second look. Mark was on the ship. She’d just missed him. Her heart raced, and it wasn’t because she was running.
The deck wasn’t crowded anymore. Courtney figured everyone was getting settled in and ready for their fancy dinners. That was good. Less people to dodge. She made it to the end of the enclosed portion of the Promenade Deck and ran outside to face a big, orange November sun that was setting over the coast of the United States. The passengers outside were silhouetted against the orange ball, so it was difficult to make out details. She ran to the aft railing of the Promenade Deck and looked to the decks below.
Many people were outside to enjoy the sunset. All eyes were to the west. Nobody was looking back at her. Her frustration grew. It was impossible to make anybody out. She was about to start sprinting along each deck to get a closer look at the people when her eye caught something two decks below. There was a couple standing close to each other. They wore long, dark gray woolen coats to keep the sea chill away. The man wore one of those fedora hats. The woman was a few inches taller than he was. Her hair was dark brown, cut just above her shoulders. It was parted on the side and perfectly combed under a small, gray hat. Though there was a sea breeze, not one hair looked out of place. Her back was to the sun as she spoke to the man, which meant she faced Courtney. Even from where she was, Courtney could tell the woman was pretty. But none of those details mattered as much as the fact that the man clutched two leather books under his arm. The guy might have just come from the library.
He turned to face the woman, and Courtney saw his profile. He wore wire-rimmed glasses. A slight curl of black hair could be seen creeping from under his hat.
Courtney stopped breathing.
“Ma-,” she began to yell, but was rudely yanked away from the railing and shoved against an outside wall. She hit the steel hard.
“Ahoy, Chetwynde,” came a familiar voice.
Courtney focused on the man who had attacked her. He wore a long dark coat and peered at her from underneath the brim of a gray hat.
“Nothing like a little sea air to get the blood moving, is there?” the guy said, after which he snorted and spit out a loogie onto the deck.
“Mitchell,” Courtney gasped.
“Welcome aboard,” Andy Mitchell said with a sneer.
Saint Dane was back in play.
(CONTINUED)
“How come you didn’t die in that cab?” Mitchell asked obnoxiously.
“Don’t give me that,” Courtney spat back. “If you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. You knew we’d get out of there.”
Mitchell snickered. “Still sure of yourself, Chetwynde. Right to the end.”
He wore the same kind of suit and long coat as many of the passengers, making him look a lot older than seventeen years. His normally long, greasy blond hair was cut short, adding even more years to his look. Of course, Courtney knew he wasn’t really seventeen anyway.
Courtney kept her back to the wall, like a trapped animal. She couldn’t yell for help. Saint Dane hadn’t done anything wrong. The only thing yelling would do was bring the crew down on her.
“I don’t know what you did to get Mark to come to First Earth,” Courtney said. “But I’m going to stop him from springing Forge on this territory. I got here in time for that.”
Mitchell laughed a laugh that turned into a smoker’s hack. Courtney cringed.
“In time?” he croaked. “You think you’re to stop this territory from learning about Forge? Time is the last thing on your side! Where do you think I got that plastic stuff from? Third Earth. That’s over three thousand years from now.”
“I knew you didn’t invent that,” Courtney snarled. “The heart of Forge is Mark’s computer skeleton, not the plastic skin. All you did was mix technology from different territories. Again.”
“Exactly!” Mitchell said. “Tripping through time is a wonderful thing. By Earth years, Lifelight won’t be invented for another five centuries after Third Earth. The dados on Quiilan were built a century after that and brought to the ruins of Rubic City two hundred years later. Do you really think time is a problem for me? I have all the time in Halla!”
Courtney’s mind reeled at the possibilities. The impossibilities.
“C’mon, Chetwynde!” Mitchell scoffed. “Do you really think you’ve made it here in the nick of time? Why’s that so important? You trying to stop the Flighters from destroying Ibara? Is that it? You trying to help Pendragon? That’s a joke. That battle ain’t gonna happen for thousands of years!”
“No,” Courtney said, stalking forward. She was angry enough to think she could bully him the way she used to. Before she knew he was Saint Dane. “It’s about Mark, and his invention. It’s not about time. It’s about tricking the people of the territories into hurting themselves. That’s what’s important to you. You somehow got Mark to do the wrong thing. I’m going to change that.” She got right into Mitchell’s face and added with venom, “And you can’t stop me.”
Andy Mitchell’s eyes flashed blue, jolting Courtney back to reality. This wasn’t Andy Mitchell, world-class loser. This was Saint Dane, Halla-class demon. She took a few involuntary steps backward and hit the wall.
“Don’t forget who you’re dealing with,” Mitchell snarled. “Andy Mitchell ain’t real.”
“No, but Mark Is,” Courtney said, fighting to regain her composure. “And I’m going to save him.” She ran to the railing. “Mark!” she called out.
But Mark was gone. She looked around quickly, hoping to see the couple strolling away. She was too late. The sun dipped below the horizon. The ship’s lights were taking over the job of lighting the decks.
“I’m going to find him,” she said as she spun back. “And I’m going to-“
Mitchell was no longer alone. Standing next to him were two ship’s officers, both looking very military with their dark blue uniforms.
“I ain’t no snitch,” Mitchell said to the officers politely. “But she’s been running around here bothering a lot of people. I think she might be a stowaway.”
There was a frozen moment. The two officers looked at Courtney with grim expressions. Andy Mitchell stood between the two wearing a smug grin. He lifted up his hand and gave her a small, obnoxious wave that only she could see.
“Come with us, miss,” said one of the officers as they both took a step toward her. “No trouble now, if you please.”
Courtney made a snap decision. She ran. She didn’t know where she was going, but she ran. She had to find Mark. She had to find Dodger. Most of all she had to keep from getting taken into custody by the ship’s crew, because if that happened, she’d be done. Mark would be done. Halla would be done. She ran down a flight of stairs to the deck below and sprinted back into the structure of the ship. If there was one thing Courtney could do, it was run. She knew that in a flat-out race, she’d beat anybody. It was time for her to kick on the afterburners. She casually along. She knew she had an advantage. She might not know the ship, but her pursuers didn’t know which way she would go. It was like soccer, she thought. Defense was much tougher than offense because the person with the ball was in charge. Courtney was in charge.
She ran until she hit an inside stairway and took it back up to the Promenade Deck. Her plan was to take as winding a route as possible to try and lose them. She climbed the stairs and took off back toward the stern. Bad move. One of the of
ficers had stayed on that deck and was coming toward her. Oops. He hadn’t spotted her yet, so Courtney ducked into the first door she saw.
She found herself in an immense, elegant dining room. The ceiling soared impossibly high overhead, where several rectangular lights cast a warm glow over the room. Polished wooden pillars stood along either side of the space, making the room look as much like an ancient temple as a modern ballroom. On one end of the room was a stage, where a swing orchestra played soft (boring) music. Hundreds of tables were set with fine, white linen and elegant china. People were beginning to arrive for dinner. The men wore tuxedos, the women lavish gowns. Courtney was stunned to think that such an elaborate room could be aboard a floating ship. But there wasn’t time to hang out and admire the place. She ran down the center of the room, headed toward the orchestra. To the left of the stage was a swinging door, where she saw waiters entering and exiting. Her plan was to head that way and escape through the kitchen.
The plan changed when one of the ship’s officers entered through that door. Courtney made a flash decision. Without breaking stride, she hurdled up onto the stage, past the orchestra leader, and dodged her way through the surprised musicians. None of them missed a note. Courtney found her way backstage and through a narrow corridor. Where to now? At this point she was operating more out of instinct than with any plan. She wanted to lose her pursuers long enough to stop and think about her next move.
The corridor led her through the back side of the busy kitchen, where dozens of chefs prepared the elaborate feast. They paid Courtney no attention as she slid past them and out the far side. She found herself in a service stairwell. It was fifty-fifty. Up or down? She chose down. Lower and lower into the bowels of the ship she went, figuring she’d lose them in the labyrinth of corridors and cabins. She stopped on D Deck, choosing that one to continue her flight.
She knew where she had to go. Dodger would be waiting for her at the bow of the ship. She needed to get there and tell him what had happened. She was a fugitive. It was only a matter of time before her luck ran out. The responsibility of getting to Mark was now on his shoulders. Hopefully, she thought, the crew didn’t know there were two stowaways. It was a slight hope, but it was hope.