Flyday

by Laura E. Bradford

  “I don’t think so.”

  “No? They didn’t, uh, give you anything?”

  “Well, maybe. I was screaming a lot. Mostly over them taking you away. They might have given me something to relax me.”

  “You don’t say.”

  He sighed. “Kiddo, this isn’t about Damien anymore. They want you, they want what you know. They’re hoping you can teach them how to use the pocket watch. And you can’t.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “At first they’ll say this was all a misunderstanding. They’ll promise you your freedom, a great job maybe, and the safety of people you care about. Maybe they’ll drug you so you don’t even realize you’re giving them information. But if that doesn’t work, they have another option. Most people tend to give up information very quickly if they see a friend being tortured.”

  She sat back. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’ll be dead tomorrow. Today.” He leaned his head against the wall. “I guess it’s them who kill me, huh?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ariel, quietly.

  “What happens to Zoë? And the baby?”

  “I don’t know.” She was quiet for a moment. “Is that how the secret police recruits?”

  “What?”

  “They promise you things, say your loved ones will be safe; heck, they say you’re doing it for the good of humanity … sound about right?”

  “No. The secret police are a force for good. They’re supposed to prevent these sorts of things.”

  “Well,” said Ariel, “they’re certainly doing a wonderful job.”

  2.

  12:01 A.M.

  A missile exploded into the Halcyon, sending it veering off course.

  “Not again!” Zoë yelled. She increased the speed, trying to dodge the missiles. “Just once I want one normal, uneventful flight.”

  One of the control panels blinked. “Pilot, prepare your ship for docking. You are in violation of international law—”

  Zoë shut off the radio com. “I can’t do this,” she said. “In a war, I’d have about five other ships helping me. And all the ship’s weapons were removed after the war. There’s nothing to do but run.”

  “We should have left sooner,” said the robot, sadly.

  Zoë considered. No matter what speed she pulled off, they kept right after her. How long could she let them chase her? Her job usually involved keeping track of navigation, altitude, weather—not an enemy.

  Beneath them was the wide Atlantic ocean. If she crashed, the ship wouldn’t burn. It would sink.

  On the controls, she saw the narrow Celestial fighter move in place beside the Halcyon.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” said Zoë, jerking the controls to the left. The ship followed, then latched onto the Halcyon.

  “Celestials boarding,” said the pleasant voice of the ship’s computer. “They are executing a search warrant, and looking for a missing person. Name: Emily Montag. Hatch will automatically open in—fifteen—seconds.”

  Zoë slowed the ship, then sat back. “We’re done for.” She swung toward her robot. “Jack, if a Celestial asks you a question, any question, you have to respond with a truthful answer, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss Martínez,” he replied.

  “Then, Jack ... can you keep a secret? If they ask you something, don’t say a w—”

  The door to the ship burst open, and guards rushed into the pilot’s cabin and pointed blasters at them.

  “Hands in the air! Don’t move!” one yelled.

  Zoë’s hands went up. Jack’s wiry arms raised an inch.

  “Jeez,” said a guard. “One’s an assassin, the other’s a smuggler. What the hell is wrong with the Martínez family?”

  “We weren’t loved as children,” Zoë replied.

  3.

  5 A.M., Tenokte

  The guards led Thomas and Ariel to the lieutenant’s office.

  Glass formed one side of the room, and showed the glittering lights of the evening skyline, which seemed like a golden necklace on a dark cloth.

  The office itself had sparse furnishings. A gray desk, with two chairs on the opposite side. A bookshelf. A tiny cactus on the desk. This could be the stylish office of a magazine editor, not the lieutenant of a small city and the assistant to the most important man in the world.

  Lt. Kira Watson stood by the glass wall. She turned as the visitors entered.

  “Don’t restrain them,” she murmured.

  “It’s Delacroix’s orders,” a guard replied.

  She didn’t reply. The guards handcuffed Thomas’s right wrist to the chair, but didn’t even glance at Ariel, who stood by the door when it closed.

  Kira turned, then smiled at the time traveler. “I don’t think we’ve met, Ariel.”

  “Don’t you dare speak to her,” said Thomas. “After what you’ve done—”

  “I’m sorry if you feel that way, Thomas,” said Kira, “but I wasn’t addressing you.” She turned to Ariel, who crossed her arms.

  “Long night, huh?” said Ariel. “I hear you’ve been tracking me.”

  “Hm.” Kira stared out the glass. We’ve wanted to get that project started for years, but the clock would only light up intermittently. We tried a few times, and it didn’t work. Finally we got the funding, got a daring volunteer, and it lit up. A perfect Venn diagram of conditions. It took four years and happened only once.”

  “I see. But the king died that day. You didn’t match up the events at all? Even I knew there had to be a connection.”

  Kira turned. “What do you mean?”

  “I know who killed the king. It’s a man named Jude Fawkes, a time traveler. I can find him.”

  “How?”

  “He took my copper time piece, and you’ve tracked it once. Do it again, and you’ll have your assassin.”

  Kira shook her head. “That project has been shut down. It was a failure.”

  “You knew I’d come,” said Thomas, glaring at the lieutenant. “You knew.”

  “Yes, I knew. And it was my duty to report you. Ariel, Commander Delacroix is quite interested to see you again. Anything you ask for, we will try to grant to the best of our ability. He knows you have some incredible talents. You could teach us a lot.”

  Ariel gave a sad half-smile. “A few years ago, you were against a secret police who could use time travel.”

  “Ah, yes, but I realized it wouldn’t eliminate our police force. It would make us stronger.”

  “All right. So if I worked for you, what would you give me?”

  “Citizenship, an identity. A fair amount of money. Huxley would be pardoned, of course, and his life would be spared. He’d be free to return to his fiancée.”

  Ariel nodded at all of the provisions. Just as Thomas predicted.

  “Did Zoë make it?” Thomas asked Kira, desperately.

  Kira stared at him.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Emily and Zoë! Flying off to France? No? Not ringing a bell? Or did you set them up, too?”

  Kira looked at him blankly. “Emily’s missing, yes, but we’re searching for her. You had a pretty bad injury, Huxley. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Ariel put a hand over her mouth, but Thomas could see she was smiling. She glanced at him: “You’re not seeing it, are you?”

  He looked at her lime-colored glasses, then at Kira.

  The entire building had microphones and cameras hidden everywhere. Certainly every meeting or prisoner interrogation would be monitored. Kira hadn’t turned toward Delacroix’s side, and she wasn’t just playing coy to keep her job (or her life). She was trying to help them.

  “Okay,” said Ariel. “I can have anything I want, right? Within reason?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want to watch Damien Martínez’s execution. And Thomas has to come with me.”

  Both Kira and Thomas stared at her, surprised.

  “I’m sorry, but for security reasons—”
>
  “Put as many guards around us as you want. With no time machine, neither of us are going to escape. I just want to see it. You can grant me that, can’t you?”

  Kira was taken aback.

  “It’s just a thing she has,” Thomas said, trying to suppress a smile. “She likes to visit famous deaths in history ... I don’t really get it either.”

  “Uh, very well. You can attend the execution. Commander Delacroix wants to meet with you later, Ariel. I’ll have a guard escort you to your room; I need to talk to Thomas for a moment.”

  “No,” said Thomas. “Whatever you have to say, she can hear it.”

  “It involves the events leading up to your injury four years ago. Most of the information is classified. I can’t say it in front of a civilian.”

  “Then don’t say it,” he said. He glanced at Ariel, who had gone pale. She turned to him: she already knew.

  Thomas closed his eyes. “Don’t say it,” he repeated. “Tell me some other time.”

  Kira glanced down. “Very well. I’ll have the guards escort you to your room.” She walked over to the window, her heels clicking on the floor.

  A moment later, they walked in the hallway outside, flanked by guards. Thomas whispered, “You read her mind?”

  “Yes,” said Ariel.

  “So what do we do now?”

  “I have a plan. Leave it to me.”

  “What happened to me?” he asked, his jaw set.

  She glanced down as they walked, accompanied by the guards. “I don’t quite know how to explain.”

  “Ariel, please.”

  “It’s in your head, too. You just don’t want to know.”

  He sighed and walked on. “Damien is going to die today,” he sighed. “And there’s nothing we can do.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zoë waited with her arms crossed as the white-uniformed soldiers searched her ship. Jack stood by her side, his eyes flashing from time to time, his internal gears clicking, but he did not speak.

  The captain of the Celestial cruiser asked her a long string of questions in a tone that reminded her of the frantic buzzing of an insect.

  Or a kazoo.

  “This search was mandated by the Commander himself. No vehicle coming out of Tenokte is exempt, and resisting a search is a criminal offense. What makes you think you’re outside the law?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shrugging. “My brother’s going to die today. I must’ve been a bit absent-minded. You know how things go.”

  “Your worthless brother killed my king.”

  “Yeah, keep thinking that.”

  “Show some respect for a Celestial officer, you insolent—”

  Jack rolled forward, his eyes flashing faster. “You will not speak that way to Miss Martínez.”

  “Worthless ’bot,” said the captain. “I’ll—”

  A guard approached. “Sir, there’s no sign of anyone on board.”

  “Keep searching.” He squatted down to look at Jack. “Okay, robot, answer this question carefully, or I’ll take you apart with a wrench and pair of pliers. Are there any passengers on this ship?”

  Zoë’s heart nearly hit her throat.

  “No,” said the repair-bot.

  “There is no one beside the pilot?”

  “There is no human on this ship who is not a pilot, correct,” said Jack.

  The captain stood, gritting his teeth, and glared at Zoë. “Then why the hell did you run?”

  “I like to mess with you guys.”

  He raised a hand against her, but she didn’t flinch.

  “What are you going to do?” she said. “Execute me?”

  “This is your second attempt at refusing a search, Miss Martínez. Most people don’t run unless they have something to hide.”

  “So arrest me,” she said. “I’m sure it will make a lovely news story. Put it right in my brother’s obituary.”

  The captain turned away. “I’ve got other ships to search. Let’s go,” he said to his men. “Nothing to report.” They walked off the ship and sealed off the hatch.

  In moments, the Halcyon was drifting off by itself.

  Zoë walked over to the storage room, then tapped the ceiling. A trap-door opened, and Emily slid out, jumped down to the floor, and brushed the dust off her clothes.

  “How’d you find that hiding spot?” Zoë asked.

  “I’d have to be pretty daft to miss it. These fighters always have a spare compartment for storage of extra supplies. Thanks for the help, by the way.”

  “No problem.” She turned to Jack. “Nice work. I get it. The ship has no passengers, but there’s a co-pilot.”

  “I try,” said Jack, his eyes flashing in pattern meant to simulate cuteness.

  It worked: Zoë smiled. “Now, to Paris. Oh, you’ll love the city, princess. It’s beautiful.”

  “I want to go back,” said Emily.

  The pilot turned. “What?”

  “There are secret police everywhere, even past the Federation’s borders. I can’t hide, Miss Martínez. Especially when my people need me.”

  “After what just happened? No. We need to keep going.”

  “The risks involved are exactly why we should turn back. Besides, I heard you talking with your fiancé. You’re with child. I can’t ask you to put your life on the line for me.”

  Zoë didn’t reply at first. She pulled out her cell phone, checked for any messages from Thomas, then snapped it shut. He had promised to call when he got out with Damien. There wasn’t a call.

  “Well, it’s your choice. I was asked to take you to Paris, and I’m not afraid of what happens.”

  “This is what I want.”

  The pilot nodded. “All right. And Emily?”

  “Yes?”

  “You really would make a good queen.”

  Emily beamed, and they headed back to the pilot’s cabin.

  2.

  Jude Fawkes looked up at the white skyscraper from his place on the street.

  People shuffled past him, all wearing clothing of a different style than he had grown up with. The twenty-sixth century always baffled him, so he rarely came here and never stayed very long.

  His long gray coat billowed in the wind.

  One shot. Maybe two. That’s all it would take, and this century’s government would never learn anything more about time travel. And history agreed with Jude’s choice.

  Only, his target had vanished, swept into the doors of that prison. So what next? When was the best time for a journalist to go missing?

  He saw a car idling outside, remembered something minor about June 21, 2507, and had an idea.

  3.

  7:23 A.M.

  “Hanging?” said Ariel.

  They stood in a field outside in a small crowd of Celestials and officers, in front of a gallows. One guard stood by her and Thomas.

  In front of the gallows were empty chairs for the six members of the World Council, as well as other officials. Front-row seats to an execution, Ariel thought gloomily.

  “So, that plan,” said Thomas. “Uh, it’s better than the last one, right?”

  “Trust me, it’ll work.”

  “You know, if you still had your time machine, you could bring Dimitri Reynolds here to pardon Damien himself.”

  “That would break all sorts of time travel code.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  The guard shushed them.

  Commander Delacroix walked into the field with Kira, and they sat down. Kira gave one nod at Ariel before moving her eyes to the front.

  “Thomas, are we in front of the firing squad wall?” Ariel whispered.

  Thomas glanced at the brick wall behind them. It was riddled with bullets. “Yeah.”

  “This is rather disconcerting.”

  “Shh,” said the guard.

  The six members of the World Council walked out of the prison and into the field, taking their seats in the front.

  Through another door, two guar
ds led in Damien Martínez, who was blindfolded, his hands bound behind his back.

  Thomas’s eyes widened when he saw him, and he turned to Ariel. “What on earth is your plan? You’ve got about thirty seconds to start it.”

  “Hold on,” Ariel whispered. “If I can get to Kira, I can get the watch, and get him out of here.”

  “That’s your plan?”

  “Shh!” said the guard.

  Both of them turned to him, but let it go.

  Damien now stood on the platform. He looked serious, and not at all intimidated by the guards, who were about to put the noose around his neck.

  “Ready?” Ariel whispered.

  “Ready.”

  “Lieutenant!” came a scream.

  Ariel turned to the messenger, surprised.

  A guard had left the prison and was running toward the front. “Urgent message for you, lieutenant.” He handed her a phone.

  Kira took it, listened a moment, and turned up the volume.

  “Uh, hi,” came a voice. “If this works, Kira, you should be receiving it well before the execution. Don’t try to shut it off: it’ll show up on every radio in the Celestial Federation.”

  Not many people recognized the voice, even though the speaker was on the radio constantly. But on all those occasions, he’d been singing.

  “Jamie,” Thomas whispered.

  Everyone in the field stood riveted, listening to the message.

  “This is Jamie Parsons, by the way, if you haven’t guessed. I used a journalist’s computer to hack into the radio broadcast. They’ll trace it, so let me apologize. He didn’t tell me the security code. I’m just pretty good at hacking. I couldn’t be much better if I could, I dunno, read minds ...

  “In any case, yeah, I was pretty upset about those censorship laws. My last album couldn’t be released because it displayed ideas that are considered anti-Federational. One of my best friends died last summer, and the world can’t hear his music. So here’s a pretty bold political statement for you: I killed the king. Damien Martínez did not. He was trying to stop me.”