Seeking Sirius

by Laure Reminick

  “Lord Newcastle,” said Alexa, while bringing her hand up to his chest. “How nice to see you.”

  He smiled brilliantly at her, gazing into her eyes as his oldest brother taught him. “I’m not really partial to the lord stuff. Iain or even Newcastle will do.”

  “Not Sir Charming?”

  Penelope remained deep in conversation with the other—yes, nicely endowed—woman and thus had no opportunity to interject her usual sarcastic remark about some knight in shining armor. “Afraid not.”

  “Well then, Iain it is.”

  Alexa took his arm with a light touch and began strolling away. He’d noticed this calm, decisive side of her before and smiled inwardly. Hard to pinpoint whether his satisfaction arose from recognizing a worthy adversary, or relief upon first sight of a glowing window on a cold night.

  “I hope you received the note I left for you,” said Alexa.

  “What note?”

  She stopped, appearing positively stricken. “Callaghan didn’t deliver a note from me? He promised to get it to you.”

  Newcastle reviewed the frantic last hour on Adalans before they arranged for a fast shuttle to catch up with the cruiser here at the wormhole station. “I don’t believe I crossed paths with the Prime Minister.”

  “Oh, I am sorry. I certainly didn’t want to leave you hanging.”

  “Why leave? Without completing our agreement?”

  Her face telegraphed several emotions in quick order: concern, confusion, then deliberation. She took a deep breath. “We left quickly because we’ve been informed of a method of getting to our century, and it’s necessary to travel somewhere promptly to do so.”

  She broke off, perhaps to check his response. Considering time travel was not even deemed possible, apart from the unusual circumstances on Adalans, he could understand a certain concern about being discounted as crackers. He kept his face impassive.

  “And I was informed,” she glanced at him, “that I must protect the, um, item.”

  “I double-checked the family legend,” he said, “and it’s wise of you to not publicly specify said item.”

  “Oh Iain, thank you for understanding.”

  He stepped back and she released his arm. “If you mean about not selling it to me, then don’t thank me,” he said. “We had an agreement.” His brother would not care how he obtained the crystal. And if he didn’t bring it home, he might lose everything. The family’s message awaiting them at this station made it clear, the struggle against their father’s old nemesis had taken a turn for the worse. His brother added a private message. Any amounts lost would come out of Iain’s share first.

  Still, Alexa’s opinion of him was important. Thus outright theft was out of the question, at least at this moment. Perhaps he could make her see the situation sensibly. “You should know, a nasty character was after it then.”

  She bit her lip, maybe considering her response. He didn’t know which he wanted more—to kiss that lip or forcibly grab hold of her and locate the blasted thing. Bet she has it on her.

  Alexa said, “There’s more to the situation than my predicament of being far from home and whether you or I hold this little crystal.”

  Newcastle shook his head slowly, unconsciously mimicking Donny. “Somehow, someway, that menace, I never located a name, continued through the centuries. How that was possible, I cannot imagine.” He leaned closer and used his most authoritative tone, “Therefore it is imperative that you offload it. Most logically to me.”

  “I can’t,” she said and began backing away from him.

  He moved with her. Time to push. “Everything points to this being a dangerous situation, making you vulnerable.”

  She stamped her foot. “Logically, the source of danger might be you!”

  Newcastle blew out. “When I said you were not in peril with me, I meant it.” The shopping area was emptying as passengers drifted toward the docks. “Alexa.”

  “Don’t you see,” she interrupted, “if I had not found a viable method to accomplish the impossible, I could have followed through on our deal.” She looked up at him with those stunning eyes. “Happily so.”

  He felt his resolve weakening, which needed to stop. “How could anyone accomplish something so preposterous?”

  She smiled sadly. “My father was right.”

  He couldn’t help a look of confusion. “Your father?”

  “My Dad. Who years ago disappeared at sea. Lost. Gone. Never a word about what happened.” Her voice caught a little at the last.

  As much as he might rail against his family’s strictures, Newcastle didn’t want to imagine losing his father. Still, how could such an old sadness be related to the current situation?

  She answered his question. “He didn’t die.” She paused. For effect? “The same as, I didn’t die.”

  It took him a few heartbeats to realize the implication. “Alexa, your father showed up in Adalans?”

  She nodded. “Callaghan pointed out that the fact both my father and I were hijacked to this time might mean we share a responsibility to the crystal.”

  Unlikely, thought Newcastle.

  “My father left Adalans to locate someone who would transport him to me.” Alexa threw up both hands, “although it never happened.” She took a deep breath, blew it out and gazed over at the public area. “His whereabouts are unknown.” She held out her hands. Begging for understanding? “Still, his travels and meetings with holy men and mystic masters ultimately brought together all those people to the conference. Including the swami who told me about the one person who can transport us home.”

  Newcastle swiped a hand over his face.

  “Is that Corky?” she blurted.

  “In boarding school, that incompetent sap head exhibited everything but the knowledge and instincts he sometimes shows now. Are you certain?”

  She shook her head, doubt in her face.

  Newcastle returned to his primary interest. “Does there have to be a connection between you going back and the crystal?”

  “According to this man,” she said, nodding, “the bearer of the crystal is responsible for its safety above all.”

  Newcastle took hold of her shoulders, aware of the warmth of her skin. “At the risk of your own safety?”

  She didn’t resist his almost embrace. “If I buy into the logic for this trip, I also have to accept the importance of following through to the best of my ability on the original instruction to give it to Ma—. Hmmm, to someone.”

  Penelope was walking toward them. He gently released Alexa. “I can’t give up, you know. Even if merely to try to keep you safe.”

  Her eyes became glittery. “Thank you for wanting to do that.” She noticed the hallways were emptying. “I must get to the cruiser.” It felt as if she might reach up to kiss him. Instead, she laid her palm over his heart. “Goodbye.” A small smile, and she was gone.

  Then Penelope stood beside him, watching Alexa weave around the few remaining people. “You’re falling, big brother,” she said softly, before taking hold of his arm. “Remember. Carleene.”

  Chapter 20

  On the short walk to the dock, Alexa kept losing her way. Twice she turned right when she should have turned left, and even became mesmerized for a few moments by the twinkling jewelry in a store window, before remembering the cruiser could potentially leave her behind.

  On track toward the gate, Alexa marveled at how her plan regarding Newcastle worked, with consequences. She intended back there to turn the tables on his past romancing efforts and maneuver him into a willing release from their agreement. He certainly began again on his own manipulations. Funny how between them emotions and words often became heated. At last, he seemed to really hear her. Then an emotional backlash swooped around and grabbed at her heart.

  How could she seriously declare attachment to Mac, when she kept being attracted to Newcastle and that Pearson person? Good thing I’ll never see them again.

  Donny and Rachel waited at the gate,
on the lookout for her. Donny had said something about buying clothes other than the “silky stuff” but didn’t look to be carrying garment bags. It surprised Alexa that she and Donny shared a preference for their attire from home. Rachel happily wore the loungewear sets, after a little form-fitting modification to make them her own.

  “Look at the shoes Penelope helped me find,” said her friend, holding up one foot. Uppers that changed colors depending on the angle, on top of a clear, flexible sole with a four-inch heel. “My jeans boots don’t work with the PJs.” With a sweet smile, she pushed Donny forward a step. “He bought them for me.”

  As Alexa admired the shoes, the desk announced the next shuttle to their cruiser and they moved to join the group standing in line. Donny dug around in a small shopping bag. “I have something for both of you.” He brought out two bracelets with large, flattened beads. Alexa’s beads were enameled in white with tiny pink roses. Rachel’s glinted with rhinestones. “Phones,” he said.

  Alexa stood, mouth slightly ajar. “Wow, thanks.” On the flip side of the beads were buttons and little doors on storage compartments.

  Donny explained, “I sold mine from home to the owner of the electronics store for an unbelievable amount of money. Seems the market for antiques is huge, especially for ‘original’ mobile phones.” He snickered. “Mine was needing an upgrade.”

  “Cool,” said Rachel, while inspecting the beads. “Instructions?”

  “On the phone,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  Rachel glanced at him while floating to a seat on the shuttle. “Wonder if I can sell my mobile or the newspaper.”

  A goofy grin spread on Donny’s face. “I can help you get the best price, if you want.”

  As they strapped themselves into double bench seats facing each other Rachel opted for the seat beside Donny, an action Alexa recognized as anything but random. Donny went rigid, perhaps concerned the situation might change if he brought attention to it. Alexa didn’t know if he was correct or not.

  Still, Rachel did not award him everything. She kept her attention on Alexa. “Penelope seems nice, though she doesn’t like you.”

  Alexa was gathering her hair into a low ponytail. “She could use some mood enhancers.”

  “You might teach her to meditate,” said Rachel.

  Alexa glanced at Rachel as if she was crazy. “She’s about as interested in meditation as you are.”

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s the sister of the man who joined us and then walked away with me.”

  Rachel pursed her lips, nodding her memory of him. “Who’s he?”

  Donny flicked a glance at Alexa, who opened her mouth and closed it. She hadn’t mentioned to Rachel that the group that hired Donny also required him to call in from the airport. Tricky. Donny certainly hadn’t known then that the telephone call would result in all this.

  Rachel didn’t seem to notice the tension. “And why did Penelope go on and on about a crystal you were supposed to sell to them?” Her expression discounted the whole idea. “They are pretty. And when I was sick, believe me, the doctors brought in a bunch of different colors. But I’ve never known you to pay attention to them.”

  Donny has tried his best to make amends. “Turns out,” said Alexa, “a package Brahmaji gave me has attracted a lot of attention.”

  Rachel looked at Donny briefly, before asking Alexa, “Your meditation teacher gave you a crystal? Has he ever done that before?”

  Alexa shook her head.

  “How strange.” Rachel evidently decided she didn’t need to figure it all out. Instead, her attention went to the goal of their trip. “How long do you think before we arrive home?”

  The shuttle touched the cruiser, attached with a soft cling-clang, and everyone began unbuckling and drifting toward the portal. Alexa played a bit by aiming at the ceiling and bouncing off. “I guess you get used to the weightless experience sooner or later.” She continued, “I believe this cruise has stops at three or four solar systems.” Alexa pushed off the ceiling before reaching the hatchway where gravity would take over. “I’m a little hazy about the actual transit time. Though when I bought the tickets it appeared to be weeks.”

  Onboard they went to dinner first. Afterward when Alexa returned to her cabin, it showed signs of being searched. Her stomach clenched, the meal choices maybe not such a good idea.

  Newcastle had sounded adamant about a nasty someone lurking, ready to pounce to claim the prize. With the door caught on the magnet available to hold it open, she checked every place a person or thing might hide. Unless it was pretty darn small, nothing unusual showed its face. Except the butler bot, crouching in its cubbyhole, eyeing her. Her intuition continued to want to push it off a high place. But since that scenario would never be possible in this environment, she compromised by escorting the robot out the room again before she locked the door and barricaded it with her bags.

  Still, the feeling of being watched continued. It felt safer with the lights off. She managed to change in the dark and climb onto the bed to meditate, continuing the practice out of sheer habit, unfortunately not because of some profound enlightenment every time. She sat in the blackness. No paranoia here.

  When Alexa woke, the clock in the room indicated about eight hours had passed. Light streaming under the door and past her luggage had become cheerily bright. She’d noticed this the previous “morning” and figured the ship changed the lighting as a subtle method to create a sense of day and night for the passengers. She might have even heard soft morning birdsong from the corridor.

  The “night” before, they theoretically made a transit through a wormhole. Alexa noticed nothing dramatic, except she now remembered being awake enough at one point to recognize something similar to those rare moments during meditation. Though it lasted a short time, the marker was there. The bottom falling out and then bliss, vastness of infinity as sweet shelter. It would be nice to have that experience more often when she meditated.

  Then she remembered something else right after; words and phrases, as a radio tuning through the stations. “Wonder if it’s real, or more like hearing your own thoughts,” she murmured while locking the door to go to breakfast, butler bot still standing in the hall.

  Later that morning, Alexa entered the sports area in time to hear Donny yell, “Point,” and thrust both hands up, exultation ratcheted to a high pitch.

  “Good one, man,” responded his opponent.

  When after breakfast Donny smugly agreed to a game of handball, along with a small side bet, Alexa assumed he was an expert. Nevertheless, every time she walked through the area this guy was beating Donny at almost every volley and hardly breaking a sweat.

  After another ball zagged when it should have zigged, Donny conceded. “You are good at putting the ball where you want it,” he said, wiping his face with his shirt. From the odor, Donny certainly had worked hard to keep from losing.

  “I learned from one of the best,” said the guy. “In fact, there he goes.”

  Alexa followed to where he indicated to see an older man, head shiny where wispy gray hair was unable to cover. Donny replied, “Him? No offense man, but that’s hard to believe.”

  Both players strolled off the court and the guy nodded at Alexa. “Don’t let appearances deceive you,” he said. “I am one of several pilots on board. Barnes is the only wormhole pilot. There should be two, but our other one left unexpectedly last system. Job offer too generous to refuse, he said. Doesn’t matter. That man,” and all three leaned toward a window to catch sight of the retreating back of Wormhole Pilot Barnes, “he is the best I’ve ever seen in setting an intention.”

  “Intention,” said Donny, incredulously. “You mean magic?”

  “Nah, an intention of, say, where a handball should land. For Barnes, no accidents. It’s a choice. He’s way good at handball because as a pilot he uses intention all the time to come out at the intended, correct, other end of a wormhole.”

  “Yeah, yeah,”
murmured Donny. “Maybe sometime you wouldn’t mind sharing some of those tricks of the trade.” Donny pulled a credit chit from his bag, punched some buttons and handed it over. “You won the bet, and the double, and triple or nothing.” The guy pocketed the chit and gave a quick salute before striding away.

  Lunch ended up taking place at a funny and raucous group table.

  When Rachel let slip she’d never been through a wormhole, a well-traveled couple began regaling everyone with stories of the effects of transits. “Once I saw a woman drop into a dead-sleep, in mid-sentence, face down into her salad,” said the wife. She shrugged. “Me, I get a little dozey.”

  Her husband said, “All those explanations of, quote, manipulating on the level of quantum space foam, I’ve boiled down to this: Stand in front of an invisible door, mutter hocus pokus, grab hold of everything, and jump.”

  “I heard voices,” said Alexa.

  Everyone at the table, except for Rachel, looked at her a little strange. “Do you normally hear voices, dear?” asked a lady.

  Alexa dipped her head. “No, not at all. It was my first jump, too. I’m sure I was mistaken.”

  “Coming up are several transits in quick order, including two tonight,” the man to her right said. “Tell us if you get a good tip on the stock markets.”

  Alexa heard the man’s last words. But she did not see him finish the sentence because the lights in the dining room went out. Totally out. A hush followed for about six seconds. The draft that had been bothering her continued, so air-conditioning and thus also the electricity were still on. Just as suddenly, the lights came back on. Reactions in the room indicated this was not the first occurrence.

  “I thought they repaired the lights,” complained a woman at a nearby table.

  “I heard there should at least be safety lights on the floor, or something,” remarked a man down the table from Alexa.

  “Maybe it’s the pirates,” said the man across from her, trying to sound glib and missing his mark.

  After a bit, conversations crept to their previous levels. The lady sitting next to Alexa whispered, “I hear the pirates take women of child-bearing age.” Every female nearby looked as if she got a whiff of something past ripe. “While screaming about a saint and his priest.”