As soon as they alighted, Billie dragged Jack straight away toward a huge glitzy department store. He let himself be dragged, knowing who was in control here. He just had to keep an eye on the funds. They went from department to department, Billie leading the way, Jack looking at things she suggested, shaking his head when the price was too high. Finally, they ended with a couple of tops, two pairs of trousers, some new shoes, a jacket, and a coat. Then it was Billie’s turn. She was easier, and the results were less expensive. Jeans and tops and a well-cut jacket. He guessed it was enough. They chose to take the purchases with them, rather than waiting for them to be delivered. Delivery, though reasonably efficient, was variable in timing, and they were due to leave on the following morning. At last, Jack was relieved that Billie seemed to have decided they had enough.
“Okay. Can we go home now?” he said.
“Nuh-uh.”
He stood outside the store, arms full of packages, and shook his head. “Why not? What now?”
“Luggage,” she said simply. “We need to have the right luggage.”
She was right. If they were truly going to look the part, they couldn’t only dress it. Luggage was the perfect prop. He put down a couple of packages and reached for his handipad. They’d already taken a healthy chunk out of the remaining funds. He chewed at his bottom lip and then looked up at her impatient stance.
“Okay, you’re right, but we need to do it carefully. I’m not sure this is the right place to get what we need.”
She looked at the surrounding stores and finally nodded. “Leave it to me.” Barely leaving him time to grab the packages, she dragged him toward the shuttle stop.
A short ride later they were in another shopping area, but this one was in a section of the city marked by more moderate appointments. Billie headed straight for a small store. Jack stopped, waiting for her to realize that he wasn’t following.
She turned. “What?”
“What is this, Billie?”
“Trust me,” she said, waving him forward.
With a shake of his head, he followed. THE COPY SHOP sat atop the doorway in muted letters. Jack wandered in, putting the various packages down on the floor behind the doorway. Billie was already leaning across the counter talking to someone. And this was a real someone instead of some program.
The man behind the counter nodded and then disappeared into the back of the store. Moments later, he appeared carrying two finely crafted travel bags, one larger, one smaller, in front of him. He planted them on the counter. Jack walked over, nodded to the man, then reached out a hand to the bags. They looked like top-of-the-line leather and they felt like it. Real leather was something well out of Jack’s usual range, particularly in something as practical as luggage. The man mentioned a price and Jack frowned, believing he’d misheard. Billie said yes, immediately.
Jack had some doubts. “Is this legit?” he said to the storekeeper.
“Well, certainly,” said the man. “The big labels recognize that people are going to copy their look and feel. As long as we display the official hologram”—He reached over to one of the bags and opened it, turning a small label out so Jack could see it—“then everything’s fine. The difference is durability and, ultimately, quality. That’s what you pay for with the originals.”
“Well, okay,” said Jack, but he was still a little dubious.
“Would you like me to have them delivered?”
“No, we’ll take them with us,” said Jack, pulling out his handipad to make the purchase. He reached for the bags, took them over near the door, and started piling their packages inside them.
Within moments, they were outside the door.
“You want to explain this to me?” said Jack, repositioning the bags till he felt comfortable.
“Sure,” she said. “They’re programmed copies. They look like the real thing, feel like the real thing, they have the labels, but they break down after a while. They cost a lot less and they last a lot less.” She shrugged. “They’re what we need, right?”
And she was right. Not even thinking in those terms, about labels and designers and things like that, he hadn’t even known such things existed. So how was it that Billie did? He suddenly felt guilty, realizing that he knew far less about what she occupied her time with than he probably should. If he’d taken on the responsibility, the least he could do was follow it through.
Billie was looking thoughtful.
“What is it?” asked Jack, wondering what was next.
“We need some accessories. People with money always have accessories.”
“And how do you know that?” said Jack, putting down the bags and waiting for her to answer.
She gave a little shrug. “I’ve seen people with money, haven’t you, Jack? It’s not hard.” She was looking at him with that faintly exasperated expression again. Finally she gave a little shake of her head and headed off toward another line of stores. “Come on. This way. I know what we need.”
With a frown, Jack stooped and hefted the bags again. “Okay, wait,” he said. “Where are we going?” He didn’t even want to think about how much more they were going to eat into the remaining funds.
“Just down this way. It’s not far,” she shot back over her shoulder, not even waiting for him.
As she disappeared inside a doorway, he quickened his pace to catch up. The store was full of stuff. That’s the only way he could think of it. There were glasses and small trendy little bags, handipad cases in bright colors, all sorts of things—he couldn’t even tell what purpose they might serve. It was stuff, and all of it stuff that meant nothing to him. Billie was standing, leaning over a counter, peering down at the contents. There were no display boards here. Jack guessed that this kind of merchandise people wanted to pick up and feel, to play with, to try it on. Jack joined her at the counter.
Billie looked up at him as he stepped up and pointed down at a pair of glasses.
“These are great,” she said. “You can touch them and they change color according to a voice command. They can be really dark, or you can mirror them, or do anything you want.”
“But we don’t need sunglasses in here,” said Jack, confused.
Billie shook her head. “We don’t need them, but they look good. Everybody’s wearing them.”
Jack grunted. “Not everybody.”
“Yeah, well . . .” said Billie, looking back down into the case. “Those ones, I think,” she said. She glanced back up at Jack’s face. “Uh-huh. I think they’re good.”
She thumbed the pad at the side of the display, and an assistant was with them in a couple of seconds. “We’ll have those, I think. Can we try them on?”
The assistant opened the case and handed the glasses over. Jack slipped them on, and Billie nodded approvingly.
“Yes, they’re good. Do you want to look?” she asked Jack.
He shook his head and she sighed. “Yes, we’ll take them,” she told the assistant.
The assistant started to launch into a spiel about the various features, but Jack cut her off with a wave of his hand. “That’s fine,” he said, and opened up his handipad to pay. The assistant looked slightly disappointed, but put the payment through. Billie was leaning back over the display case, looking at other items. She found something for herself, and again, Jack paid.
“Don’t worry,” she said as he slipped the extra purchases into the bags. “I’ll explain them to you when we get back.”
Jack just shook his head and let himself be led out of the store.
When they did get back, Jack was all for dumping the purchases and getting something to eat, but Billie insisted on taking out all of the articles they’d acquired, arraying them across the back of the couch and disappearing into her room, only to appear moments later parading a different combination of outfit, the wall turned to its mirror function so she could check that everything met with her approval. Eventually, Jack looking on, she tired of the game, packing the clothes away, ready for the morning.
When she was done she reappeared in the living room, looking at Jack expectantly.
“No,” he said. “I’m fine, Billie. Everything’s okay. How could it not be? You chose it.”
She grinned and accepted that.
“There is one thing though,” he said. “I think you’re going to have to do something about that hair.”
The grin slipped away and was replaced by a half pout, and she reached up to play with the tangled waves on top of her head, but then she slowly nodded and sighed.
“In the morning,” she said.
When she did appear the next morning, Billie looked almost demure, with her neat little jacket, well-cut jeans, and simple white top. What she’d done to her hair was astounding. When Jack had first met her, she’d had a simple straight bob, but then as her hair grew, the tangles came into being. Now the tangles had been straightened out, the ends were even, and it fell in soft waves to her shoulders. She looked cute. She could be anybody’s daughter. Jack stood and stared at her.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. You just look so . . . I don’t know. You look great, Billie.”
She suppressed a smile. “Uh-huh. You look okay yourself.”
“Come on. We need to move.”
And they did. It was still early, but they had limited time to get up to the port and make their transport on time. Jack grabbed the prepacked bags and headed for the door.
“Wait,” said Billie. “Let me take mine.”
That was unusual too. What had come over her?
They traveled to the port in silence. Even though Jack had managed a morning coffee before they headed out, he was still in that half-awake morning state. In that less-than-good frame, he was mulling over the actions they were just about to take. They’d spent thousands on the mere whim of a dream prompt. As accurate as his dream pointers had been in the past, it was still pretty tenuous. It had been a while since he’d been able to rely on his dreamstate with any certainty. He didn’t even know if there was any way he’d see Bridgett Farrell again. Her cat and mouse games didn’t fill him with confidence. So, he was headed out into the wild unknown with no good reason for doing so. He screwed up his face and readjusted the bag on the seat beside him.
He glanced across at Billie. She seemed content, the bag clutched in her lap, kicking her feet slightly back and forth, looking into the distance. She was probably thinking about their destination. He didn’t dare do that yet. It made him think about the process of how they were going to get there. And with that, there was just too much uncertainty.
They reached the port after one shuttle change. It was early yet, and there wasn’t too much activity. Yorkstone wasn’t one of the trendy destinations and vacation season was much later in the year. Their ground transport sat waiting, doors already open. There was a small covered waiting area and a check-in desk in front. They headed in that direction. Just before they reached the desk, Jack dug out his handipad and made sure the right identity had been loaded. He set his bag down and strode forward to the desk, placing the handipad down on the small recess designed for that purpose. There was a pause; then their reservations came up with a series of question and answer touch points. He answered the security questions, the baggage questions, and confirmed the fact that they had a connecting flight. The screen accepted the answers and displayed an instruction to await further boarding information in the waiting area. Jack grabbed the bags and headed for a vacant seat. There was one other passenger already waiting. As Billie and Jack settled into place, the man, dressed in a conservative suit, turned to Billie.
“Hello, young lady,” he said with a smile. “Where are we off to today?”
Billie, uncharacteristically, returned the smile easily. “We’re going on vacation.”
“Oh, yes? Anywhere special?”
Jack felt his heart lurch.
Billie nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. My uncle’s taking me offworld to Mandala. We’re going to visit the ruins.”
The man’s eyes widened a fraction and he glanced over at Jack, took in the coat, the luggage, cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, very special indeed.” He adjusted his jacket and looked away, pulling out his handipad and pretending to bury himself in the morning news. Jack wondered briefly whether the man thought himself out of his depth or whether there was some sort of subtle disapproval there. No, it was probably the Mandala reference that had done it. It was out of most people’s reach.
Billie turned to Jack and gave him a little grin. He just shook his head.
When the boarding announcement came and their luggage was stowed, they found seats up near the front of the ground transport’s passenger section. The businessman found a seat in the corner, looking out a window. That suited Jack fine.
The drive to the spaceport took just over twenty-five minutes, through open countryside. Had they still been at the Locality, they would have been forced to take a flyer, but Yorkstone was currently in close proximity to the port. In a couple of years its slow crawl would probably take it farther away, necessitating different connections, but now it was within striking distance.
Once there, there were more check-in procedures, security questions, but this time they were ushered into a lounge—wide comfortably padded seats, a bar, snacks, multiple screens showing different programs. Jack headed for the bar and made himself a coffee. Billie made a beeline for the free snacks and started loading up her pockets. Jack tried to ignore her. He also tried to ignore the chill growing steadily in his chest. Flying was fine. Spaceflight was fine. It was just this new drive, the jump. He’d seen what it had done in Outreach’s experimental stages and he didn’t want the same thing to happen to him, nor to Billie. Gilbert Ronschke and his severed hand kept floating up inside his head. It was probably just as well that they were in the lounge and he couldn’t see their intended transport. He carried his coffee back to a chair and tried to lose himself in one of the screens.
An hour later, the boarding announcement came. Billie tugged at his arm and Jack nodded. He reached for the travel bag and followed her reluctantly to the boarding gates. What the hell was he doing?
The boarding went without a hitch, and they were led to big comfortable seats toward the ship’s front by one of the ship’s personnel who obsequiously fussed about them, making sure they were all right. They had the section to themselves. Jack just wished the steward would leave them alone. Right now he could feel the slightest sense of panic working up inside him. When the steward leaned in close and warned them that the jump sometimes resulted in nausea, then asked if he wanted a patch to counter it, he waved the man away. He was close enough to being sick as it was, but he wanted to do this on his own. He needed to face the fear and conquer it—just in the same way he’d schooled himself out of reaching for a patch every time he needed to concentrate. It was discipline. Meanwhile, Billie was prodding and poking at controls and playing with the screen in front of her, flicking from channel to channel.
Jack closed his eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. He heard the doors close and the launch announcement. It would take about forty-five minutes after launch to the jump point, and then another forty-five minutes to landing. It was certainly different to weeks and weeks, but it still didn’t make him feel any better knowing it. The ship thrummed into life around him, and Jack gritted his teeth. He knew, rationally, that they were nowhere near jump yet, but the feeling still worked inside him. He felt the ship slowly rise, pick up speed, then accelerate further, pushing him back into his seat. One thing, it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than his usual mode of travel. It would be a while before they’d be traveling like this again.
After the acceleration eased, he opened one eye a crack and then the other one. Billie was absorbed in a game. They had the cabin completely to themselves. He loosened his grip on the arms with an effort of will. He knew he was being stupid. Ever since the start of the drive’s more widespread use, there’d not been a single report of any problems with it. No
accidents, no disasters, everything seemed to work.
About ten minutes after takeoff the steward reappeared, asking if they wanted drinks. Billie took an orange juice and Jack just asked for water. He couldn’t face anything else. Ten minutes later, the steward reappeared and cleared away their glasses.
“Fifteen minutes to jump,” he told them. “Please make sure you’re strapped in securely.”
He fussed around, making sure their restraints were fastened properly, then disappeared again. Jack closed his eyes again, far from reassured. Billie just seemed to be taking it all in her stride.
He was expecting some buildup, some warning apart from the brief internal announcement that jump would be in two minutes, and then it was upon them. He felt his stomach flip, a strange sucking sensation that seemed to pluck at every one of his cells, individually, and just as quickly, it was gone. They were through. Jack opened his eyes, glanced at Billie, but she was still absorbed in the game as if nothing had ever happened.
“Was that it?” said Jack.
“What?” said Billie, not even looking away from what she was doing.
“Is that all? The jump?”
She shrugged.
Forty-five minutes later they landed at their stopover.
Again they were ushered into a lounge, but this time it was even more plush. They had two hours, and Jack busied himself with Billie’s notes. When they at last boarded the ship that was to take them to Mandala, it was much the same routine, but the ship was smaller, only room for about a dozen passengers, and they seemed to be the only ones on board. There were no lower classes of travel. Jack looked around, grunted at the sheer plushness of the fittings, and strapped himself in. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t Jack Stein. No way. At least the nerves had gone.
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