Michael didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t against sharing technology; if humankind was able to fully develop reliable interstellar travel, he believed everyone on Earth should be a part of it and benefit. However, international corporate politics was renowned for its sluggish pace. Before anyone could move forward with any more research or development, the technology could be tied up for years or decades while the some oversight committee decided whether Kinemet was a danger or not.
“You think they can get it ratified?” he asked tentatively.
“Yes. Who knows, maybe they’re trying to develop interstellar travel independently and don’t want the competition.”
Michael asked, “You think they may have been helping Klaus?”
“I don’t know. Our ‘big brother’ to the south isn’t offering up any information to us at this point. Perhaps you can see what you can get out of Major Turner when she arrives. She should be there sometime tomorrow. The Canadian Space Forces have offered protective services for the time being. I know their commander; I’ll see about getting you clearance to meet with the Americans.”
“Thanks, Calbert,” Michael said.
“Oh,” Calbert said just before severing the connection. “I also talked to the provost officer on CS3 and got him to release Kenny. Technically, he did break Quantum Resources protocol by not registering his activities—and we’ll talk to him about that later—but he swears he was only taking readings. Whatever happened to Alex, it was something completely different.”
With a nod, Michael said, “We’re going to be docking in an hour or so. I’ll call ahead and see if Kenny will meet us at the port. I’d like to get the full story straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“Sounds good. I’ll contact you later tomorrow when we have more information.”
“See you later.” Michael closed the connection and hurried back to the lounge to watch the final approach with Yaxche.
∞
While he waited for his luggage to be unloaded and brought to him on the conveyor on CS3, Michael listened as Kenny explained what had happened that night in his apartment with Alex.
“…and then he twitched and went into a coma. Only,” the physicist added after a moment, “Doctor Amma says it’s more of an extreme fugue state than a coma. He responds to stimuli, and appears to be awake. His consciousness, however, is not there.”
Yaxche, who was listening to the explanation through his translator, said, “He is on a spirit walk.”
Kenny, looking genuinely worried, asked, “Raymond said you might be able to help him; can you?”
“I will try,” Yaxche said.
As Michael grabbed the bags when they passed near him, Kenny said, “They have him hooked up to IVs and they’ve even tried to force-feed him. But he’s fading away. The doctor’s explanation is that he was in remission the last few weeks, but it was only temporary. Now, whatever deteriorating disease was afflicting him before is back.
He added, “And it’s progressing.”
∞
It took a lot of fast talking to convince the medical staff in the infirmary to give Yaxche the privacy he needed to see if any of his rituals (Michael called them naturalistic procedures when explaining it to Dr. Amma) would help bring Alex out of his state.
Dr. Amma wasn’t buying it, and in the end, Michael had to place another call to Calbert and get him to authorize their attempt.
Michael and Kenny stood in the room, watching as Yaxche pulled a few accoutrements out of the bag he had brought with him from Honduras, including a hand-carved headdress decorated with feathers, and a shawl woven with sea shells and bone. He produced two wooden sticks that rattled when he placed them beside Alex’s supine form.
Part of Yaxche’s traditional rituals required the use of fire to help lift spirits to the heavens, but he said he would make do with some candles and incense.
Alex looked gaunt and aged. Though his eyes were open, they stared blankly out of darkened sockets. He seemed to breath normally, but made barely discernible moaning noises once in a while. When Michael grasped the boy’s hand, it felt cold and listless.
“I must enter the spirit world of dreams,” Yaxche told them once he had everything arranged. “Then I will try to commune with the Sky Traveler. It may take a long time. Please make sure we are not disturbed.”
Michael regarded the old Mayan levelly for half a minute, waiting for the ritual to being, when Kenny tapped him on the arm. “I think he means he wants us out of here, too.”
Yaxche gave them a toothy grin, and waited patiently for Michael and Kenny to leave the room before turning back around.
Outside, Michael looked indecisive.
“Uh,” Kenny said, clearing his throat. “Raymond said they’ve finished the initial analysis of the Song of the Stars and have transmitted the data to our computers. Do you mind if I go and have a look at it?”
Michael smiled and checked the time on the wall holoslate. “Sure thing. I think I’ll go get a bite to eat and wait for the Ultio to dock.”
But Kenny, ever the scientist, was already halfway down the hall before Michael finished his sentence.
∞
Michael didn’t have to wait long. He was in the waiting area of the docking port for less than a half an hour before the overhead monitors flicked on to announce the arrival of the Ultio.
It took a few minutes for them to complete docking procedures, and when the gates opened to allow the passengers to disembark, Michael stepped up to greet the survivors.
Before he took two steps, however, a small fireteam of Canadian Space Force soldiers, armed with ion pulse rifles, came marching down the hall.
Before the Luna Station incident with Chow Yin, Canada Station Three only had a small contingent of five peace officers whose primary role was to keep the seasonal space miners in order when they had come aboard for shore leave. Breaking up a bar fight was the most action many of them had ever seen.
Since then, however, the military had sent up a thirty-six-man platoon of soldiers to bolster internal defense and to provide added security for any international visitors to the station.
Michael didn’t recognize any of the soldiers, but they obviously knew who he was. When they got closer, they veered toward him, and the first man lifted his right hand in a salute.
“Sir,” he said. “Master Corporal Bixby.”
Dully, Michael raised his hand in an attempt to return the salute. “Michael Sanderson.”
“Sir,” the master corporal said in a clipped military tone, “we’ve been assigned to escort the American hijack survivors during their stopover on the station. The Minister of SMD informed us you would also be accompanying them.”
“Oh?” Michael frowned. “Do you think they are at risk?”
The soldier gave a quick shake of his head and a cursory smile. “Just a precaution, sir.”
When the main door to the docking bay opened, Michael glanced over and saw Justine and three men—all looking as if they had been through a warzone—enter and step up to the identiscan one at a time.
Once they were processed and cleared, Justine approached Michael, fighting through a weary grin with a wide smile. She gave him a hug, which he returned with as much emotion as hers.
At first, Michael hadn’t noticed, but Justine did not have her optilink or her PERSuit harness on, yet she had spotted him right away and walked toward him unwaveringly.
“Justine?” Although his first instinct was to ask how she was and tell her he was glad she was safe, he found himself blurting out, “Can you see?”
She let out a short laugh and smiled at him. “I am still blind … but, yes, I can see.”
“What—?” He stared into both of her eyes one after another. There was no detectible change in her irises. Her eyes were unfocused, distant.
Justine patted him on the arm. “I’ll explain later. Can we go see Alex right now?”
Michael shook his head. “Soon. Yaxche’s with him.” He detec
ted a sudden pained look in Justine’s expression. They needed someplace private to talk; he was acutely aware of over a dozen pairs of eyes watching him.
“Um, is everyone all right?” He looked at each of the American soldiers in turn. One of them looked quite banged up; several bruises were evident on his cheek and forehead. The lieutenant was favoring his arm, and the last soldier had one eye swollen shut.
The master corporal quickly introduced himself to Justine and the others, and said, “We have an area set aside in the infirmary. If you’ll all follow me, we’ll get you patched up and fed a hot meal. Then you can contact home to make your debriefing. I’ve been told there are several USA, Inc. directors and NASA officials gathering at the capital to listen in.”
“I’m fine,” Justine said to him. “I don’t need any medical attention. If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to confer with Mr. Sanderson while you see to the others.” She moved her head towards Lieutenant Jeffries, who nodded his assent.
Master Corporal Bixby called one of his men closer. “Private Ludwig, here, will escort you to our headquarters. We have a conference room set up for the debriefing if you want to use it.” He regarded Michael with a calculating look. “But we also have a few smaller offices, if you prefer.”
Justine and Michael followed the private while four of the Canadian soldiers took up positions around the entrance to the dock where the Ultio was, and the remaining men led the American soldiers to the medical section.
∞
“Are we safe to talk here?” Justine asked once Michael closed the door to a small office. Some thoughtful person had brought in a carafe of coffee and a plate of sandwiches and veggies.
Michael watched as Justine deftly reached for a carrot stick and bit into it with a snap.
“Reasonably,” he said in answer. “So, you first. You can see…?”
“What I’m about to say is probably going to be classified as soon as we report back home.” Justine sat down and took a deep breath. “Klaus figured out the formula to convert a human into a Kinemat. And,” she added with a dramatic pause, “I am proof of it.”
“What? Proof? You mean you’re—?” A hundred questions all tried to pour out of his mouth at the same time. Michael found a seat and eased himself into it, all the while never taking his eyes off Justine. “Maybe you should start at the beginning.”
She did, and relayed everything that had transpired from the moment they had been hijacked to arriving back on CS3, including that they hadn’t been able to locate the scroll.
When she finished her story, Justine said, “Colonel Gagne was pissed when he found out we were heading here and not back to Earth. I told him we were running low on fuel. He didn’t believe me, but what choice did he have but to arrange for our berthing here?”
“Why did you come here?” Michael asked.
“I knew Alex was in trouble. When I was in a quantized state, I could sense that his consciousness was separated from his physical body.”
“Yes.” Michael nodded. “And since he’s fallen into that fugue state, his body is deteriorating. Yaxche says he’s trying to communicate with Alex, to see if he can draw him back. Don’t ask me to explain how. I’m not even sure I believe in that kind of mysticism, but I don’t have any other ideas. You wouldn’t have come here unless you did have a notion. What is it?”
“Before I tell you that, it’s your turn,” Justine said. “Catch me up. I’ve been isolated for a week.”
“I know the feeling,” Michael said cryptically, and then told Justine what had happened in her absence.
Starting with the EPS from Alex when he went through his first fugue, Michael recounted the events up to their capture and escape in Honduras. When he spoke of George’s death, his words caught in his throat, and he poured himself another cup of coffee.
“The political situation on Earth has been worsening over the past few days,” he said in conclusion. “People aren’t dumb. They’ve figured out there are developments in the area of Kinemet, and are demanding to be brought in. The world economy is in tatters; viable interstellar travel could be a shot in the arm—whether or not there are others out there. If the country corporations on Earth knew just how far those developments have gone, it could get worse. Are you going to tell your superiors that you’ve been transformed?”
After a moment, Justine took a deep breath. “I’m no diplomat, and I have no desire to be,” she said. “I’ll make my report and leave policy to them. Meanwhile, we need to help Alex, and time is running out in more than one way. As I said before, once I make my report to the USA, Inc. Board, the cat will be out of the bag. We’ll all go into lockdown, and then it might well be too late for Alex.”
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. “Do you know something because of … what’s happened to you?”
“I think so.” She stood up and paced, gathering her thoughts. “I haven’t had a lot of time to explore my new gifts, but, whenever I used any of the extranormal abilities, I could tell that I was using the Kinemetic radiation as a fuel. It worked before, and bringing Alex in proximity of Kinemet might reinvigorate him once more. I know, when I ran out of the radiation, I felt an uncontrollable hunger. I think, if I didn’t charge myself with Kinemet, my health would also deteriorate like Alex’s.”
“So you think bringing him close to some Kinemet will snap his consciousness back?” Michael asked.
Justine shrugged. “Maybe. I think it’s worth a shot.”
“There’s no way we can unload the Kinemet here,” he said, thinking out loud. “If any of the station’s security sees it, they’ll report it to our government. And if we move Alex out of the infirmary, the nurses will sound an alert.” Michael chewed on his bottom lip.
“It’s a good thing I planned ahead,” Justine said. She reached into her pocket and brought out a small control pad. “Klaus gave me the idea. He used a Kinemetic damper on me to stop me from being able to use my abilities. I figured if I was leaking any radiation at the security station, they’d notice, so I rigged up a localized damper to hide myself. And—” She reached into her other pocket and pulled out a small disc of metal attached to a gold chain. “—some Kinemet, disguised as a locket if anyone searched me. This should be enough to irradiate Alex. At least long enough to figure out our next step.”
Michael stood up. “Then what are we waiting for?”
∞
On the way back to the medical area, Michael stopped at a communications kiosk and called Kenny at the QR lab. The scientist answered almost right away, but he seemed annoyed at the interruption until he recognized his caller.
“Yes, Mr. Sanderson?”
“Just call me Michael. How are you coming along on the scroll data from Raymond? And I hope you’ve made redundant backups of everything.”
“Of course,” Kenny said, pursing his lips in annoyance at the suggestion. “All data is backed up continually.”
“Just checking,” Michael said, putting up an apologetic hand. “What have you found?”
“We’re working on the theory of pitch and frequency. Perhaps Kinemet is sensitive to sound vibrations.”
“Try converting sound frequencies to light frequencies.”
“That’s not really a valid physics methodology. There’s no direct correlation to—” Kenny’s face froze in mid-word as it dawned on him. “It worked, didn’t it?” His eyes widening, he said, “Someone solved it, didn’t they? It worked on one of the Americans?”
“That’s all I can tell you for now,” Michael said, suppressing a grin. “We’re heading down to the infirmary to see Alex. You can reach me there.”
He didn’t even have time to say a farewell before Kenny cut the connection, most likely off to run some computer simulations.
∞
They stopped outside the door to Alex’s room, and Michael gently knocked before opening it a crack. He didn’t want to break Yaxche’s concentration, but his caution was not necessary. The old Mayan was sitting on a gue
st chair in the corner, head drooped from exhaustion. He looked up when Michael entered.
“I had a dream,” he said, then noticed Justine. “Hello, Sky Traveler. I saw you in my dream.”
“Uh,” Michael said. “This is Justine. She was captain of the ship that rescued Alex on Pluto. Justine, this is Yaxche.”
She stepped forward and clasped both of her hands around Yaxche’s. “I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this,” she started to say.
“My grandson has passed from the world,” the old Mayan said, as if he already knew the fact of it. He kept a stoic face, but there was a tightening around his eyes, and he looked away as he lost the fight to hold back a tear.
Justine said, “He died saving my life.” Though she did not have the ability to see out of her eyes, they nevertheless conveyed what the sacrifice meant to her.
Yaxche squeezed her hand and nodded. “I would not expect any less. Te’irjiil was a good boy.”
“You’ll have to tell me about him.”
Yaxche nodded. “Yes. We will sit together some time and I will tell you his story.”
Justine pressed her lips together and nodded. Then she turned to where Alex lay in the bed and said, “Let’s see if this works, shall we?”
She withdrew the amulet of Kinemet and place it on Alex’s chest, tucking his hospital gown up over the metal.
The diagnostic machine beside the bed blipped as Alex’s vitals immediately shot up. His pulse quickened, and his vital stats normalized.
Michael quickly leaned over and looked into Alex’s eyes, but there was no dilation of his pupils.
“He looks better,” Justine said in a soft voice. “It seems to take a few hours for us to fully charge.” She shook her head and lifted one side of her mouth in a half-smile. “I say it like we’re batteries or something.”
But after several more minutes passed, there was no sign that Alex’s consciousness had come back to reside in him. The body on the bed was still a hollow shell.
Realizing that Yaxche had not related the details of his dream to them, Michael turned to him. “Is this going to work?”
Music of the Spheres (The Interstellar Age Book 2) Page 24