Jupiter's Glory Book 4: Just Passing Through

by Adam Carter

  “What if it’s not the right boat we’re following? We could end up finding a tourist ferry at the end.”

  “I have my fingers crossed.”

  I had meant it as a joke, but when Cassiel did not answer I wondered whether she was trying to figure out my logic or had just decided to humour me. Either way, we did not have much choice in what to do.

  I’m getting tired of thinking like that, and it’s only a shame it sums up the story of our entire time on Ganymede.

  We spent a lot of time on that boat, much more than I would have liked. I’ve never been to sea, but the river was proving enough for me. I don’t know whether it was because of the speed of the boat or if the waves were especially choppy that day, but after a while I was beginning to feel decidedly ill. Cassiel did not speak much. She spent a lot of the journey with her head hung over the side. I can’t say as I heard her vomit, but I get the impression she was on the verge of it several times and wanted to make sure I could not see that she had lifted up the lower half of her mask. Vomiting inside her suit would have made the rest of the day somewhat unpleasant for the both of us.

  The trail led us through some pleasant surroundings either side of the river but we were soon back to what I would term the more interesting parts of the city. Unfortunately we did not linger in this area and passed straight through to a part of the river whose banks were monopolised by offices and other ugly glass buildings. It should not have surprised me that, being an employee of Securitarn, Hilda Myers would have gone to such an area, although it did lend credence to the theory that Iris and Gordon had been taken captive.

  “That’s it,” I said, for I could see the Dogstar ahead of us, berthed at a jetty along with several other craft of its ilk. There was no sign of anyone on board.

  “We should search the boat,” Cassiel said.

  “Why? If Iris and Gordon brought it here they’re not likely to be hiding in the boat while they debate their next move. This area is going to be crawling with Securitarn employees and if they’ve come here it means they have a reason.”

  “Or that they’ve been captured.”

  I had been trying not to let Cassiel think such a thing, even though it was the likelier possibility, and I was pleased she had managed to suggest it herself without a breakdown. “Either way,” I said, “we should get away from this area as quickly as possible. Our speedboat will have been reported stolen, so hanging around here is only going to land us in trouble.”

  Abandoning the boat, we moved inland without any problems and were soon lost amidst the crowd. Cassiel did not receive any attention, for Ganymede is the largest of all Jupiter’s moons and cities like Rinden are therefore some of the largest in all the Jupiter system. As such, the human race was extremely well represented in the areas which housed all the high-rising offices.

  I had never until that moment stopped to think of how diverse the human race is. We have people of different skin colour, different heights, different religions; yet I’ve never noticed any of those differences myself. In worrying how Cassiel was going to fit in, it got me thinking about how, many generations ago, everyone who lived on Earth had been closed off within their own countries. If a Frenchman walked through the streets of Tokyo he would have been met with curious glances; if an Australian asked the time of day in Cairo she would have been ridiculed for her accent. Nowadays of course none of that means anything. The human race is so spread across the solar system that you’re just as likely to find a white man named Isamu or a black woman named Sumiko. Where we’re all immigrants in the Jupiter system, it just doesn’t seem possible to worry about silly little differences any more.

  “This is it,” Cassiel said, dragging me back to the present. We were standing before a veritable colossus of a building. I have no idea how many storeys high it rose, but the entire thing appeared to be formed of black glass. Above the wide entrance formed of three separate revolving doors was the proud and somewhat septic banner depicting the logo of Securitarn. Those doors were in constant use, mainly by people in suits or uniforms, and I suddenly realised we had absolutely no plan.

  I said as much to Cassiel.

  “Hilda Myers,” she said. “If we can talk with her, we can find out what she knows about our friends. They were on her boat, and if the boat came here it’s obvious she came with it. She knows something, she has to, so whatever we do we have to speak with her.”

  It was a conclusion to which I had myself been leaning towards, although now that we were faced with such a daunting building I was feeling far from certain.

  “What about your sword?” I asked. “Can’t you leave it somewhere? We’re going to get arrested.”

  “I need my sword,” she said defensively. “Besides, I have that all worked out.”

  “You’re going to pretend you think it’s a mop and tell them you’ve come to wash their windows?”

  “I’m going to tell them it’s a religious symbol. I’m going to tell them Themistonians abroad cannot go anywhere without their swords.”

  “Is that true?”

  “I don’t know. I sneaked off Themisto without asking for a rulebook on how I should behave.”

  “They’re not going to believe you.”

  “They might.”

  “We’re walking into the lion’s den and you’re armed with a sword.”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “Cass, they’re going to call security and we’re going to be arrested.”

  “Trust me, Roz, everything will be fine.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “The sword’s for religious purposes? That’s absolutely fine, then.”

  I could not believe what the receptionist was saying, that she even had a smile plastered to her face as she said it, but I reached the conclusion that she had no greater idea of how Themistonians acted abroad than did Cassiel and that in her line of work it was always wise to err on the side of caution and not risk upsetting someone’s religion. To Cassiel’s credit, she did not herself even bat an eyelid – not that anyone would have seen it, obviously.

  “Hilda Myers,” I said, pressing on before the receptionist could change her mind. “We have an appointment.”

  “One moment.” The receptionist was seated behind a desk where she could see the displays we couldn’t. I remember seeing old footage of reception areas and they have not changed much over the years. They still have the large waiting area with a scattering of seats and out-of-date magazines; and there is always something preventing someone just walking in and grabbing the receptionist by the throat. In this instance it was a wide desk and bulky screen, but in the past I’ve seen small partitions and even security guards standing around.

  The thought of security guards made me cast a surreptitious look around the area, but I could see no trace of any goons. Being a firm specialising in security measures and procedures, they have the best security guards money can buy (mainly because they haven’t bought them), but it seemed even Securitarn did not place all their heavies at the front door.

  I watched several office workers pass us on their way to the lifts, chatting about whatever inane things office workers chat about. I’ve held many positions in the past – not just halo ring miner and barmaid – but I can’t imagine a worse fate than being tied to an office desk.

  “Are you from promotion?” the receptionist asked and I realised only a few seconds had passed.

  “That’s right,” Cassiel said. “We have an appointment this morning.”

  “Miss Myers is expecting you. Did you not bring a portfolio?”

  I tapped the side of my head. “All in here.”

  “Well that’s certainly going to impress her.”

  It did not sound like sarcasm, but one can never tell with smiling receptionists.

  She wrote out passes for us and made us clip them to our clothes, which made me feel a little odd; then she ushered us towards the lifts and told us to take one up to the ninety-seventh floor. Just how far up these buildings went I had n
o idea, but ninety-seven would be a mighty fatal drop if we were forced to break a window and make a dive for it.

  We waited in the lift lobby with half a dozen others, none of them paying us any attention at all. There were ten lifts in the area where we were waiting and further lifts in another lobby; with so many floors I could imagine such buildings required an awful lot of lifts. We did not ourselves speak until the lift came, and we let the first one go so we could grab one to ourselves. Once we were alone and ascending I let some of my surety slip, for we had entered the enemy basecamp and our luck could not hold out much longer.

  “This isn’t going to work,” I said.

  “Sure it will. We didn’t even have to say half the things I planned to. She just gave us passes and sent us up without an escort.” Cassiel laughed. “She didn’t even ask for ID. What terrible security.”

  My heart sank at those words. “The system’s leading security firm has terrible security.”

  Cassiel stopped laughing. “Oh hell, we’re screwed, aren’t we?”

  I watched the number changing the farther we ascended. The lift rose steadily and did not appear to want to pick up anyone else. On the one hand that may not have been strange, for there were so many other lifts people could take; yet there would only be as many lifts as needed and it was unusual that no one had hopped in, even to avoid taking the stairs one floor.

  As the number flashed past forty I knew we had been set up.

  “They’re going to shoot us, aren’t they?” Cassiel asked. “When this door opens, they’re going to shoot us.”

  “Don’t panic.”

  “I’m not panicking!” she shrieked.

  “Seriously, stop. I need to think.” I ran a hand through my hair as I paced. My skin was clammy and my brain was on fire, but there was no way out that I could see. The lift car did not have an opening in the top and there was no way we would be able to force our way through the floor. There was an emergency stop button, but that would not do us any good, either, since that would only trap us in the lift.

  The lift passed fifty.

  “I have my sword,” Cassiel said, drawing the blade.

  “We both know you don’t know the first thing about using it.”

  “They don’t know that.”

  “Cass, if they’re going to shoot us they’re going to shoot us; wielding a sword in their faces is only going to make them shoot us more.”

  “Oh.”

  The lift passed sixty.

  “They’ll take us prisoner,” Cassiel said. “They’ll want to know what we know.”

  “Be positive.”

  “That is me being positive.”

  “You being positive is saying they might capture and torture us before they shoot us?”

  “Oh.”

  The lift passed eighty.

  “This thing is speeding up,” I muttered, but it did not matter, for there was no way out. “We’re just going to have to think of a cover story.”

  “Well, we don’t have long.”

  “We don’t have much of anything, Cass.”

  The lift slowed as it reached the ninety-seventh floor. It was about time to admit we did not have a plan, which was the story of our entire adventure.

  Finally it stopped and the doors opened. I braced for the hail of bullets, but it opened out onto a vast space filled with desks and noise. People were typing, talking on the phone, talking to each other, talking to themselves, fetching water, chatting up other workers while getting water; milling around … they were doing precisely what I thought people might be doing on some of the other floors. Just not the floor where the armed security guards would be waiting for us.

  “It’s pleasant, isn’t it?” someone said and I started. There was a woman standing behind us, leaning against the wall. She was only in her thirties, but I could sense a gravitas about her which told me she was in charge.

  “Pleasant?” Cassiel asked. “It’s … noisy. Noisy and crowded.”

  “Sure,” the woman said, “but you’re from Themisto, so you’re liable to feel uncomfortable in crowds.”

  “How do you know I’m Themistonian?”

  “I didn’t get to where I am today by not knowing people. People are, after all, what make up our lives. We have employers, consumers, colleagues. Everyone must be appeased, everyone must be placated. So long as we keep everyone happy, we’re seen as a success and we can carry on as we would like to be.”

  Whoever this woman was, she certainly was weird. “Are you Hilda Myers?”

  “I am.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “And you speak your mind, which I can respect.”

  “I don’t like this place,” Cassiel said. “If you’re going to shoot us, could we go somewhere private?”

  I winced, wishing Cassiel had not suggested Myers shoot us.

  “You’d like me to go somewhere private and shoot you?” Myers asked.

  “Not especially.”

  Myers laughed at this; her voice was full of life and wonder. “You’re a strange young woman. The noise I can do something about, if you really don’t like it.” She clapped her hands and everything vanished. The lights from computers, the chatter of office workers, the aroma of coffee from the vending machines; all of it vanished in an instant. We were left standing in a room, and not even a very large one. The walls, floor and ceiling were beige and appeared to be formed of granite. Nor were there any windows or light fixtures, yet for some reason we could see as clearly as we could if we had been standing outside.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  “Your friend didn’t like the office, so I got rid of it.” Myers moved away from the lift and spread her arms as she twirled. “Don’t you love my floor?”

  “Your floor?” I asked. “This is just one room.”

  “Oh, this is more than just one room. It’s as large as I want you to see, or as small. The entire floor is assigned to me and I have absolute control over it.”

  “Right.” I looked to Cassiel and wondered whether I should suggest making a break for it. “Look, Ms Myers, perhaps we should go.”

  “Go? But it took you so much effort to get here. We’re scheduled for a two-hour meeting, you know.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, “but we’re not really here to promote anything.”

  “Silly,” she said with that innocent laugh again. “That was just what I told the receptionist. I know you’re not from promotion.”

  “You know who we are?”

  “From your appearance, I have a fair idea, yes. It’s also why I made sure the lift didn’t stop anywhere else. I didn’t want you disturbed.”

  “I don’t like this,” Cassiel whispered.

  “Why?” Myers asked. “I haven’t harmed you in any way, nor have I told my colleagues about you being here.”

  “And why is that?” I asked. “If you know who we are, you probably know why we’re here.”

  “You’re looking for Hawthorn and Arowana.”

  “Arowana’s dead.”

  She laughed again. It may have been a sweet and innocent laugh, but it was beginning to grate on my nerves. “They came here in my boat,” she said. “I know they’re not dead.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Gone. They did what they had to do here and they left.”

  “And what did they have to do here?”

  “I’m not sure. Whatever it was, they didn’t tell me everything. They were here on Ganymede for another reason, but while they were here they decided to … screw with Securitarn, I think they put it.”

  This was disturbing, but at least went some way to explain why they had been delayed. Up to this point we had assumed Iris and Gordon had run into some trouble, but here was the suggestion they were the ones who were themselves making the trouble. It certainly fit in with what little I knew about them, but coming from an employee of Securitarn it did not mean much to me.

  “You don’t trust me,” she said. It was not a question.
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  “Why would I trust you?” I asked.

  “Because you’re friends of Arowana and Hawthorn.”

  “And why should that make me trust you?”

  “Because they’re my friends, too. I love them. They’re bally chums of mine.”

  “OK, this is weird now,” I said. “No one talks like that. No one ever … You don’t blink.”

  “Hmm?”

  “You don’t blink. I’ve just realised, in all the time we’ve been talking you haven’t blinked once.”

  She blinked, several times in fact. “I can blink.”

  “I think she’s a robot,” Cassiel whispered.

  “I’m not a robot,” Myers said.

  “She’s not a robot,” I said. “And stop whispering when she can obviously hear you. Myers, what are you? You’re not exactly alive, right?”

  “What is life but the ability to think and feel? I think and I feel and I have an entire floor given over to my research.”

  “And what precisely is your research?”

  “Media manipulation. Keeping our nasty bio-tech out of the public consciousness.”

  “Are you a computer programme?”

  “Partly. Also, partly a robot.”

  “I knew she was a robot,” Cassiel said excitedly.

  This was beginning to make sense to me and I could only admire Hawthorn and Arowana for their ingenuity. Myers was clearly not a real person, and the boat which belonged to her was obviously just controlled by her programme. Thanks to the database Securitarn had dumped into her brain, Iris knew a lot about everything; and Hawthorn was an engineer and mechanic. It stood to reason that between the two of them they had managed to kidnap and rewire Hilda Myers to suit their own ends. They had tweaked her programming so she thought she was their friend; then they had pumped her for information. Myers had learned of me and Cassiel from their tampering, perhaps even intentionally so, in case the two of us ever found ourselves in this very building. That meant Myers was an ally, and our best chance of finding our friends.

  “Distract her,” Cassiel said, still whispering for some bizarre reason, “and I’ll hack her to pieces with my sword.”