by Nhys Glover
10 April 1912, Southampton ENGLAND
Pia Rogaland stepped out into the chilly darkness, every sense on high alert. Ahead of her Luke Bedford was already scanning the back alley behind the tenements for any sign of life. The eerie glow of the open Portal illuminated the cobblestone lane in stark relief, and the stench of refuse and unemptied night soil cans covered the more subtle scent of the sea. Somewhere nearby a vigilant dog began to bark.
Moving out of the way of the Portal, Pia was only half-aware of the rest of her team stepping out to join her. More important in this moment were lights in windows that might indicate an unwanted witness to their arrival. But, though she searched the brick rows of cramped dwellings on either side of the lane, she could see no lights.
As the last team member arrived, the Portal light was suddenly extinguished. For several minutes, the utter darkness in its place pressed heavily around her. The dog stopped its irate barking and only the distant sound of wagons moving along the lamp-lit main road could be heard.
Pia shivered. It was always hard to handle the instant change in temperature from New Atlantis to the Jump destination. In this case, it was from thirty degrees Celsius to about eight degrees. The heavy coat she wore, which only moments before had been sweltering, was now having trouble keeping out the cold. She wrapped her woollen scarf more tightly around her neck and buried her gloved hands in the deep pockets of her coat.
Then, wordlessly, the group started moving down the heavily rutted alley toward the streetlight at the end of the lane. Her sensitised hearing picked up the sound of six sets of footsteps padding carefully along with hers.
When they reached the street and stood beneath the dingy halo of lamplight to get their bearings, she looked closely at each of the faces that surrounded her. These were people she had known and worked with for at least a year, and though she didn’t know any of them as friends, except Jane, she trusted them all with her life. It was part of the job – trusting your team. If you couldn’t do that, then you were better off not Jumping. It took her a long time to learn that lesson.
Trust didn’t come naturally to her. It might have been because her mother had left her when she was a child. It might have been because her husband had left her shortly after he’d married her for the baby she had subsequently lost. They’d both been eighteen; too young to have made a go of it, even if the conditions had been optimal. However, the Second Dark Age had not been optimal for anything but death and the fragile bond between two lonely teenagers had easily been severed when their child was gone.
The Last Great Plague had come along just a few years later and taken what was left of those she cared about. It left her to fend for herself in the deserted, snowy streets of Stravanger, Norway, until help finally arrived two long weeks later. That, too, might have been the cause of her distrust. Being the only one left alive in a village full of the dead was an eternity when you believed you were the only person left alive on the planet. Who else was there to rely on then but yourself?
However, if she was honest, none of that was the reason for her distrustful nature. It was more that she had never expected anyone to care enough about her to stand by her. After all, she was nothing special—just a tall, gawky girl too shy to string more than two words together. Not particularly pretty, not particularly smart, not particularly funny or interesting. Why would anyone feel the need to have her around?
Jane NewSW was one of the few people who had ever seemed interested in befriending her over the years. Beautiful, bright and beloved, Jane was everything Pia wanted to be. And though Jane had told her on many occasions that in her Original she had been shier and even more socially inept than Pia, she still didn’t believe it. After all, the dashingly handsome Julio Santa Catarina would not have fallen head-over-heels in love with the girl Jane described herself to be back then. He was a lone wolf with a chilly chip on his shoulder before Jane came into his life. A man who cared so little for others and who could have any woman he wanted, would hardly fall for someone who wasn’t beautiful and delightfully special. Only someone incredibly rare would have tempted such a jaded pallet. It didn’t make sense the way Jane told it, so she knew Jane exaggerated or told white lies to make her feel better.
She watched Jane now, resting her head against Julio’s shoulder, looking up at him impishly to make him smile. And even though he was obviously tense and worried, Julio couldn’t help smiling down at her and gently stroking back a tendril of bright copper hair from her perfect face.
Feeling like an intruder on a private moment, Pia turned away to the other loving couple in the group, Cara Westchester and Jac Ulster – their matching white-blonde hair made them look more like brother and sister than Bonded mates. Jac was a six feet six inch Nordic giant – well, he was in this body. His Original body had been shorter and less coldly perfect. However, Jac had been mortally injured in-situ, and the only body available to replace his own had been the unused spare of a recently dead friend. Jac had changed their world the day he took on that new body and broken the nine-life-limit on their lifespan, and he had done it for Cara, who now stood at his side, her carefully controlled excitement alive in her big, blue eyes.
That left Luke Bedford, the American World War II ex-Commando and Bart, his adopted son. In this moment, they both looked deadly, and Pia wondered at the Fates that had given Bart a new father who, in temperament and looks, could have been his biological parent.
The rattle of a passing horse and wagon drew her from her musing. She expected the driver to look at them with curiosity, but he didn’t as much as glance their way. He may have seen many such groups already that morning making for Southampton docks a mile away, all the possessions they had in the world contained in battered hand luggage or knotted cloth.
‘Let’s get going,’ Jac said quietly, repositioning his satchel on his shoulder and taking Cara’s gloved hand in his to draw her along beside him. Pia noticed he limited his strides to match those of his shorter mate. Julio did the same, although the discrepancy in height between Julio and Jane was not as pronounced. Luke and Bart kept up with no trouble, and Pia, with her long legs, also found the pace well within her range. Her valise was light but bulky, so she carried it at her side.
Time passed in a haze of impatient worry. Every stage of their mission played over and over in her mind so that the dimly lit, foreign streets they passed were just a background blur; unreal and yet entirely too real.
How long had they been walking? It felt like forever and yet the dark, cramped rows of houses flew by quickly as they strode ever closer to the sea. Surprised, Pia noted the sky lightening on the horizon. Was dawn so close? Sunrise, she knew, was at 6.15 a.m. at this time of year. That meant it was probably getting close to six now.
The misty air she breathed out told her it was cold, but the exercise was warming her up, so she no longer felt it. For the first time since their arrival, she felt excitement rising. Ever since she’d been told their mission destination she’d been quietly thrilled. She’d Jumped to some amazing places since joining the Child Retrieval program six years ago, but nothing as significant as this.
Although there were a hundred things that might go wrong on this journey, the very fact that they were making it was awe inspiring. Not only were they going to be part of one of the most famous events in history, they were going to save many of those who had been doomed. Not one or two, as they did on any average Jump, but maybe as many as sixty. More, if their ad-hoc investigations unearthed new possibilities.
By the time they reached Canute Street, the excitement had completely cancelled out the worry. The seeping light seemed to lift her higher with each passing moment. There were more people here too; shopkeepers preparing to open their stores, wagons loading produce to be delivered to the docks, and everywhere there were people moving in a steady tide toward the monumental outline on the horizon. Even in the pre-dawn light, Pia could identify the four smoke stacks of the titan. The buildings surrounding it seemed dwarfed beside it.
‘It is quite a sight,’ said a young man walking alongside her. She hadn’t even noticed him there. With a quick glance to see if there was someone else he was speaking to and then another to see if any of her companions would comment, she found herself obliged to reply.
‘Yes, it is.’ Her voice sounded strange to her own ears, wobbly and a little croaky. For not the first time she mentally kicked herself for her inconsequential comment. If this young man with his Italian accent was to be a fellow traveller, then this was a perfect opportunity to engage him. It was her job, after all, but where she could talk freely and easily to children, adults had always been problematic.
The issue was resolved when Julio turned to the man and gave him a nod. ‘You on board today?’
The stranger smiled brightly, and even in the pre-dawn light, his teeth shone white against his olive skin. It was a stunning smile and she felt her heart give an odd, little leap at the sight. What was this? She never found men attractive, other than in a purely aesthetic way. Any passion she once had in her youth had been numbed out of her by the Last Great Plague and the acquisition of a cloned body. This unusual attraction must just be the excitement of the journey finding a suitable outlet.
‘Sí, I am going to America. This time yesterday, I had no hope. Today the world is my oyster!’
It surprised her how willingly he shared his feelings with them.
‘A very big oyster,’ put in Jane, giving a welcoming smile to the young man. Pia noted the way Julio’s arm tightened ever so slightly around his mate’s waist.
‘A titanic oyster,’ the young man said with a laugh. He didn’t seem drawn to Jane, as most men were. She noted that Julio had picked this up too, because he relaxed a little.
‘Are you travelling today?’ he asked Pia, who was still walking at his side, her head lowered, watching everything out of the corner of her eye.
‘Yes… yes, we are. We’re going to New York. Some of us have family there.’ It was their cover story and it came easily to her lips. She was pleased to note her voice was a little less croaky this time.
‘Ah, sí, New York. But I have seen my share of cities. I am bound for the Wild West. I want to see the prairies where the blue sky goes on forever. I want to see the Indians and the cowboys. I want to drink whisky in a saloon with swinging doors.’
Despite her shyness, Pia laughed and looked at him properly. His enthusiasm was infectious. Although she knew that the true west was largely gone by 1912, it would be quite something to see those dusty towns, set against majestic scenery.
‘Most Indians are on reservations now, so I have read,’ she said, giving him another shy smile in answer to his own. Even in the semi-light, she could see his dark eyes assessing her, as if she were an amusing anomaly.
‘Then I will go to the reservations. I will go everywhere.’
‘You like to travel?’ she asked, shocked that she was actually interested in the answer and no longer just making conversation.
‘Sí, I am what you call a ‘rolling stone.’ I have been travelling Europe since I was fourteen. But, until now, I have not had the chance to go where my heart has led me…' His voice took on a faraway tone, as if for a moment he was somewhere else.
‘Are you a third class passenger like us?’ Bart asked, moving to the other side of the young man and somehow absorbing him into their group.
‘No, I am a waiter in the restaurant.’
Pia felt her heart drop in a most uncharacteristic way. There was suddenly a pain in the centre of her chest, as if an enemy had pierced her with a blade. Her breathing became erratic, and for a moment, she felt hot and dizzy. Panic, she realised with astonishment. She was having a panic attack. But such a thing was impossible! Clones never felt the level of emotion required for such a condition. What was happening to her?
Glancing to the right, she let her gaze caress the handsome Italian. The sick feeling increased, as she thought about him drowning as the Titanic drowned. He was so full of life and joy that he drew her like a magnet. Such a bright light should not burn out so early.
Pia could feel the atmosphere change within her group. They all knew what happened to the À la Carte employees. Except for the female cashiers and one assistant to the chef, they all died; kept below deck by overzealous stewards. This handsome, young man with his merry smile would never see the Wild West and the Indians. His oyster would be his coffin.
‘Have I said something wrong?’ he asked, frowning and looking around at the group as they walked on silently.
‘No, no of course not. Why would you think that? We’re just surprised.’ This was Cara, speaking for them all, her gentle American accent warm and friendly.
‘Do you get to eat all that fancy food that’s left over?’ asked Bart, redirecting the conversation and covering up their reaction admirably.
Their companion laughed. ‘Oh, sí, I eat what is left. I am a bottomless ummm… how do you say?’ He looked at them helplessly, as he searched for the word he was looking for. His command of English was admirable, but there were understandable gaps.
‘Pit,’ supplied Luke with a grin. ‘You’re a bottomless pit. A man after my own heart… or stomach, in this case. They say the food, even in steerage, is good on the Titanic. And lots of it.’
Their new friend looked surprised. ‘Some of you are American?’
‘I’m from Philly,’ Luke went on, and then nodded toward Cara and Jac. ‘My cousins are from New York State. We’re going home after visiting relatives in Sweden and Finland.’
‘So you could tell me all about America then. You are not American?’ The waiter was looking at Pia again, interested in her answer. She blushed.
‘No, I am Swedish. I am going to America with my Irish cousins and their friends and family.’
‘We’re English,’ Jane put in. ‘We met up with the others in London and decided to travel with them.’
‘You are also rolling stones, I think.’
Pia laughed shyly and shrugged. ‘Not me. I have never been anywhere.’
How interesting, it almost felt like the truth. Even though she had Jumped to many countries and many different times in the last six years, most of her life she’d lived on a rural community within the Gaian Confederacy in what was once the Bavarian Hinterland. In those 200 years, she’d worked as a medic and had felt no desire to change location or career. Then, when news of the Child Retrieval Program became common knowledge, she had submitted her name immediately. She still didn’t know what had driven her to make such an uncharacteristic move, or why she was accepted for the position over other candidates.
‘Maybe your heart also leads you to America…’ his deep voice was strangely gentle now, as if they shared a bond, a common goal. It was so incorrect that she shook her head emphatically and looked away.
‘My heart leads me nowhere. I go where I am needed.’
Jane looked over her shoulder at her with a funny expression on her face. ‘Is that why you're here? I had wondered.’
At that moment, they reached an ornate corner building across the road from the railway station and a small figure stepped out of the darkened doorway and hurried toward them.
‘Ah, there you are. I was hoping I would catch you as you passed!’ It was Eilish and she was beaming brightly. She moved into the centre of the group and gave Luke a big hug.
‘Luke, you look fifteen years younger. Amazing what a month away will do for you!’ They laughed as old friends. Pia was surprised. During the prep period of the mission, Eilish and Luke had seemed like polite strangers. How had that changed in a few short weeks? She knew that Luke had Jumped home a week or so into the mission and gone immediately to the medical centre for integration. Up to that point, he had been a rarity in their society, a person still in his Original. Most people integrated with their cloned new bodies as soon as they were ready. She had heard that Luke had not even wanted a clone grown. However, the mission had only been postponed a month while he integrated, so there must hav
e been one prepared for him.
‘I feel like my old self,’ Luke replied, kissing Eilish on the cheek. ‘Thanks to you, Irish.’
‘Damn, you are never going to let go of that are you?’ Eilish exclaimed in amused frustration. Pia didn’t understand what she meant and from the looks exchanged in the group, no one else did either.
‘Everything all right on this end?’ Jac asked Eilish as they all started moving again, this time across the railway tracks and through the gates to the docks.
The crowds were getting denser now as the sun peaked over the rooftops. The sky became a pale blush of blues and greys and Pia was reminded of a sepia photograph.
‘Wonderful. Max is ready for extraction, although…’
‘Mary, let me introduce you to our new friend,’ Luke interrupted hastily, drawing her over so she could see the stranger in their midst. Eilish was startled into silence.
‘We haven’t introduced ourselves,’ Luke said in his broad Philly accent. ‘I’m Ryan Luke O'Riley. They call me Luke, and this here’s my wife, Mary. She’s been visiting friends here in Southampton for a few days. And that’s my son Micky. Irish, this is…?’ He paused and looked at the stranger.
‘Oh, sí, I should have introduced myself earlier. I am Marco Lorenza.’ He gave a little bow as he walked, doffing his cap. In the morning light, his hair was the blue-black of a raven’s wing. In fact, it was not much different in shade or texture to Eilish’s wild locks. Pia’s fingers itched to touch it.
Gasping softly, she curled her fingers into tight balls in her pockets. Where had that thought come from? She never wanted to touch anyone, although she often felt a pleasant warmth if she were placed in a position where cuddling a child in her arms was necessary.
However, this urge was not like that. This was almost a compulsion. Her mind conjured up the silky texture of the soft curls, enticing her to reach out across the short distance between them, to stroke back that black hair from his handsome face.
When he put his cap back on and covered those curls, it was a profound relief.
‘Nice to meet you Marco. You are travelling on the Titanic too?’
‘Sí, I am a waiter on the Titanic.’
Cara interrupted to fill Eilish in. ‘We just met Marco as we were walking down. We told him that you’d been visiting family in Sweden and are now going home. Marco, Mary and Luke have lived in America since they were children.’
She paused, and then pointed at the other members of the group. ‘The sweet young lady at your side is Petra, who is Luke’s Swedish cousin and my half-sister. And this is my husband, Jan, and I am Hilda. The English are Jane and Peter Davenport. We are glad we have had this opportunity to meet you. I don’t think we’ll have that chance again once we’re on board. They’re strict about keeping staff and passengers separate.’
Marco nodded his head in greeting to each person, in turn, as they were introduced. He seemed surprised by the last statement. ‘Is that so? I will be most disappointed not to have a chance of finding out more about America from you.’
By this time, they’d reached the first of the buildings and there were signs pointing in all directions. People were milling around, some of them looking lost, others just waiting. However, they were all getting in the way of the vehicles that were trying to move along the dockside.
‘I will say good-bye, then. It has been good to meet you all.’ Marco turned to Pia and gave her a warm, slightly puzzled smile. ‘I hope I get to see you again before our journey ends.’
And with that, he was gone, moving off at a relaxed lope, his bag swung over his shoulder. He seemed so free and easy, so confident in his direction and his place in the world that Pia envied him.
However, in the next second, she realised how misplaced her envy was. This handsome, young man’s dream of America would be swallowed up by the cold Atlantic Ocean in a few short days. There was nothing for her to envy there. The sudden, wrenching grief that thought evinced was overwhelming. She felt tears stinging her eyes and she blinked them back.
There would be many she would meet in the coming days who would be living their final hours. She couldn’t hope to save everyone. But there were those she could rescue, and that was what she needed to focus on. That was why they were here.
The others, like this young man, would have to be let go. They couldn’t save everyone.
Why did that thought, which had always been her mantra in the past, now seem like a cruel and blatant cop-out? How could she be expected to stand back and watch that young man die so blithely? It almost felt like she was willingly allowing her own heart to be cut out of her chest.
However, that was exactly what she would be forced to do. Because, no matter how she felt about it, her mantra was the truth: They couldn’t save everyone.