by Thomas Stone
Kathleen looked at Harry for a long moment, then put a hand on the back of his neck and gave him a gentle shake. "You just don't get it, do you?"
"I'm trying," Harry said.
Someone, the redhead who'd left with Edward, came up behind Kathleen and tapped her on the shoulder. Kathleen turned around. "Oh, Harry, this is Doris."
Doris gave Harry a quick look. "How do you do, Harry?" She turned back to Kathleen. "Kathleen, may I have a word with you?"
"Yes, of course." Kathleen stood and walked a short distance away. The two women talked for a moment and Doris left. Kathleen returned, looking unhappy."
"Anything wrong?" Harry asked.
"No, everything's all right. Listen, I have a few things to do before the announcement. I'll see you later."
Harry wanted to ask if he could help, maybe tag along, but at that moment an announcement was made requesting all applicants to gather in the auditorium. It was time. The selections were about to be made public.
Harry looked after Kathleen, but she was gone. She hadn't wished him luck.
Chapter 6
Harry, Bart, Frankie, and George dropped into their seats.
"Where's Kath?" Bart asked, concern in his voice.
"She's around somewhere."
"She knows better than to run off and leave me untended."
"Is she your mom, man?"
Bart glared at Frankie and fell into silence. The lights dimmed and Mr. Thanopolous approached the podium.
"Greetings, corporate candidates. We have finally reached the moment you've all been waiting for. The new Braithwaite Foundation space survey teams have been chosen."
The audience burst into shouts and applause.
Mr. Thanopolous nodded and smiled. This time he allowed the audience noise to die down of its own accord. It took a full thirty seconds. He leaned closer to the small microphone set on the dais. "Do I detect anticipation in the air?" Again, the crowd burst into applause.
His smile broadened and he raised his hands for quiet. "Okay, okay," he said. "Without any further ado, let's get started."
"This year, the Braithwaite Foundation is happy to announce the need for twenty new survey teams." Harry's heart leaped. This was better than he'd expected; previously he'd understood that fourteen teams would be selected. His chances had increased by six.
Thanopolous continued. "Each survey team comprises eight members, each of whom is a mission specialist in a primary field. In addition to the selected teams, a pool of alternates has also been selected to step in for any candidates who are unable to fulfill the team requirements. We will proceed by announcing the names of the new survey teams. As each team is announced, the names will be displayed on the screen behind me.
After this session is over, those of you whose names are announced will please go to the specified areas and meet your fellow team members. Alternates will gather in the lobby and attend a short briefing. For the rest of you, do not be overly distressed. Braithwaite will be happy to recommend you to competing corporations."
"Now," Thanopolous smiled, "the moment has arrived." The audience fell silent. Thanopolous looked at a small monitor built into the top of the dais.
"Survey Team number eighty-eight..." Thanopolous began reading a list of names. At the eighth name, he stopped and looked at the screen behind him. The names were displayed in large block letters. The members of the first team had been announced and Harry wasn't among them.
Well, Harry thought, there's still plenty of room. Nineteen to go.
Thanopolous announced the member names of the next team, and then the next. Harry wasn't among those either.
In a short time, Thanopolous was up to the sixteenth team. Harry was getting nervous. As the man announced the members for the sixteenth team, Harry recognized Kathleen's name as it was spoken, as well as Edward Fagen, Dr. Bartholeme Blane, Dr. Charles Parker, and others whose names Harry didn't recognize. Harry wasn't one of them.
Stunned, he sat in silence as the audience applauded each time a name was announced.
In short work, all twenty teams had been announced. In vain, Harry searched for his own name among those on the big screen, but Harry Irons was conspicuously absent.
"Now," Thanopolous said, "I will reveal the names of the twenty alternates." He read from his monitor, one name after another. Finally, far into the list, he spoke Harry's name.
Frankie and George wildly beat their hands together. Bart, plugged into a pleasure disk, seemed to pay no attention. It was a shallow victory for Harry. Alternate selections were throwaways, part-time employees whose employment with the Foundation ended when the teams successfully left Earth orbit. After all his hard work and years of preparation, Harry had failed.
He was so depressed he didn't notice when Bart took his leave. Frankie tugged at Harry's sleeve. "Better get to your meeting, Harry."
"What? Oh sure."
"We'll meet you tonight. Big party, right?"
"Sure, sure," Harry responded absently and pulled himself from his seat.
The meeting for the alternates was brief. Chances for an assignment were slim, but it did occasionally happen. In any case, the group of young, disappointed people were told their names would probably be picked up by another corporation sometime in the next year. It didn't do much to buoy their spirits. Afterwards, Harry went home.
He gave his mother the bad news. She took it calmly and was more hopeful than Harry. "Anything can happen, Harrison."
Harry wasn't as upbeat as his mother. After turning down food, he descended the steps to his basement room and stared at the ceiling until he heard Frankie and George entering the kitchen. From the tone of their voices, Harry could tell his friends were excited. An evening of Foundation perks awaited them, and the chance to rub elbows with the rich and powerful.
A short time later, the three bade farewell to Mrs. Irons and left the tenement.
Had they been selected for a survey team, they would have had the services of a private Foundation limousine, and been picked up outside their doors by a luxury aircar, then delivered to the top floor of the Braithwaite 99-story executive office building. But that was not to be. Instead of looking forward to a lucrative contract and a career with the Corporation, they were the same as they had been the day before: three guys without a solid future, looking for diversion, waiting for a public bus.
It wasn't supposed to be this way, Harry thought. He was supposed to be looking forward to training with his new team and preparing to travel to the stars. Now he had to find a job and hope that sometime in the next year, one of the other corporations would show an interest in hiring him.
There was a lot of action on the street. More traffic than usual. They strolled past a group of thugs. One of the punks muttered something under his breath in George's direction. George wouldn't let it go and confronted the hoodlum.
"You got a problem?"
"Yeah, you." The punk laughed and looked to his friends for reinforcement. They nodded approvingly.
It wasn't an isolated occurrence. Scores of youth gangs roamed the streets at night, looking for crude fun and opportunity. They usually didn't bother the students. Tonight was different. Harry looked closely at the five young men. They were all dressed in black and wore their hair closely shaved to the skull. Tattoos of snakes and dragons adorned their arms. From their dilated eyes, Harry could tell they were flying on one or more of the many designer drugs commonly available on the streets. There was danger here.
"Well," George said, "what are you going to do about it?"
Oh no, Harry thought, here it comes.
The young man smiled and reached to his back pocket. George took a step backward and the punk drew out a stiletto. The other hoods spread out, encircling George, Frankie, and Harry.
"I'm gonna cut you," the punk said, brandishing the knife.
"Do it," urged one of the gang.
Surprisingly, the hood didn't hesitate. He lunged the point at George's midsection, but George nim
bly dodged the thrust and caught the hood's arm as it extended. Without waiting any longer, Harry sprang to action, delivering a kick to the chest of one hood and pushing another aside. The remaining two grabbed Frankie and began to beat him.
George had the punk's arm locked up. The young tattooed man bent over at the waist and tried unsuccessfully to twist out of George's grip. Harry pulled one guy off Frankie and punched the other. Frankie scrambled to his feet. A gun went off and everybody ducked.
Harry glanced to his right and saw that the hood he'd pushed aside had pulled the gun. George still held his punk in an arm lock.
At that moment, a limo floated down and landed on the street. One of the back doors opened and a hand waved to Harry.
"Quick!" A male voice said from the interior.
Frankie was the first to enter the limo, quickly followed by Harry. George, still holding the punk by the arm, edged himself to the curb. He placed a foot in the small of the man's back and shoved him away. Then, George jumped into the hovering limousine. Immediately, the limo sprang into the air and left the gang behind.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned from the window and looked at Edward Fagen.
"That was a close one," Fagen said.
"We had 'em going until that guy pulled a gun."
"You handled yourselves well."
"Well," Frankie said matter-of-factly, "I'm just glad we got away before I got mad." Frankie tenderly touched his swollen lip and looked at George. "Am I bleeding?"
Harry thought he saw a touch of a smile at the corners of Fagen's mouth.
There was something about Edward Fagen. He showed little emotion. His words and his actions were delivered with a minimum of effort, hitting their mark concisely. He was a powerful man, Harry could see at a glance; not by the outward furnishings, the expensive limo, the clothes, but by the strength he seemed to emanate. This is a man, Harry thought, who has been to the stars.
Fagen spoke to Harry. "I'm almost glad this incident occurred. It gives me the opportunity to speak with you."
Harry couldn't imagine why. He was an alternate. He wasn't going to the stars. "I got alternate." Harry blurted.
"I know. But we need to speak privately." Fagen turned away and spoke briefly into a phone. After a moment, he replaced the receiver and the limo dropped smoothly to the street below.
"What's going on?" Asked Frankie.
"I need to speak with Harry. I've called for another limo to have you two delivered to Foundation headquarters. Harry will join you there."
There was no argument from Frankie or George.
When the limo rested on the pavement, Fagen held open the door. "Good evening, boys. Stay out of trouble."
The two stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Ed. See you at the party, Harry."
Fagen shut his door and the limo lifted up again. Fagen spoke to the driver through an intercom. "Ten minutes, James?"
"Yes sir, very good, sir," came the prompt reply.
Fagen faced Harry. "Now, I wanted to tell you that I did everything I could to get you aboard. We were watching you all through the tests."
Harry looked at Fagen and said nothing. Where was he going with this?
The older man continued. "You were my first choice. I pressured the election committee but when the final tally came down, you were passed over for one of the board member's nephews."
Harry knew it was against the election rules to discuss the procedures. Why was Fagen telling him these things?
"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Right?"
"It crossed my mind."
"Yes, well, as you're probably aware, I'm not supposed to be talking about candidate selections. Inner workings of the company and all that. They like to give the impression that the selection process is entirely fair and the nominees are always the best, the most deserving..."
"And?"
"And oftentimes they're not. Sure, the corporation wants good, talented people, but these are high dollar positions offering instant success and wealth, untold wealth, if a mission gets lucky. As a result, the survey positions are bought and sold by corporate shareholders for their own purposes. Hell, I do it myself. That way I get to pick some of my own crew. You got bounced. It happens all the time.
Almost bounced you myself after the zoomball game. You gave up, you know. And that scene in the restroom. Man, you were so uptight, you couldn't even take a piss. After sitting through a three-hour test!"
"Even in there?"
Fagen laughed. "Come on, Harry, what did you expect? It's the biggest game in town."
Suddenly tired of the conversation, Fagen paused and looked out the window. Turning back, he asked, "Do you look at the stars, Harry?"
Harry looked up through the transparent top of the limo. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Probably ever since you were a kid," Fagen muttered. "Me too." Suddenly waking from his reverie, he pointed out the window. "We're there."
Harry looked down and saw the brightly lit rooftop. Shuttles, limos, and air taxis landed, released their occupants, and took off again. Fagen's limo took its turn and gently set down.
"I don't like the kid they assigned me, Harry. He'll get somebody killed, for sure. If you want, I'll work on the situation... see if I can work something out."
Harry had nothing to lose. "Sure," he said, "go ahead."
In the faded light of the limo back seat, Fagen's cold, gray eyes focused on Harry making Harry feel uncomfortable for a brief moment. Fagen nodded and a hint of a smile appeared not at the corners of his mouth, but at the edges of his eyes. "Good," said Fagen. "No promises, but I'll see what I can do. Now go enjoy the party. You've earned it." Fagen stuck out his hand.
Harry took the offered hand and again noticed the controlled strength in the man's grip. "You're not going?"
"I have business to attend. But you'll not be alone. Kathleen should be along soon."
"Well, thanks again."
"Thank you, Harry."
Harry stepped from the limo into the glare of lights. The car lifted up and moved away. It looked as though it was going to be quite a night. Harry still had a chance.
He worked his way through the crowd to the ballroom entrance. Music flowed from the open doors. Young women in extravagant sequined gowns swayed to the beat. In the foyer Harry located a directory that told him neither his friends nor Kathleen had yet arrived. As he entered the ballroom, he was scanned, identified, and entered into the directory. Via the same process, his name would be automatically removed when he left.
To his left and right were huge ornate staircases that led to upstairs lounges. Before him, a wide dance floor held a frenzied group of dancers. The music was supplied by an outlandishly-dressed popular band that played contemporary rhythms. Harry watched the dancers for a time, then moved up the stairs toward the observation deck.
From 99 stories up, Harry stood on the observation deck and looked out over the city. As far as he could see, lights spread out before him. He watched a limo drop and set down before the door. It deposited its passengers and lifted off again. An air-taxi came in next and picked up two people.
As he watched another air limo settle onto the landing pad, someone called his name. It was Frankie and George. Harry waved and turned back to the window. The air-limo deposited a large party and took on another large group.
"What a ride!" Said Frankie. "We've got the limo for the rest of night."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Who is that Fagen guy anyway?"
"He's a..." Before Harry could get the words out, a flash of light lit the observation deck. Outside, a small blast issued from the air-limo as it lifted with a new load of passengers. Another vehicle, an air-taxi, was involved in the accident and dropped quickly out of sight. The limo floated at an angle for an instant, then quickly followed the air-taxi. It happened so fast that the people outside hadn't the chance to run. They stood transfixed and asked one another what had happened. There was nothing to indicate that anyt
hing had happened besides a rapidly dissipating wisp of smoke. All the evidence, the two air-vehicles, the drivers, the passengers, had disappeared in a dead fall to the streets below.
"Wow!" George said. "What happened?"
"There's been an accident." Harry made for the stairs. "Maybe we can help." Frankie and George followed.
Below, in the ballroom, no one knew about the incident. Those who had just arrived were in the lobby, the shock still on their faces; among them, Kathleen and Bart. Kathleen saw Harry and called to him.
"It was the car right behind us. I knew most of the people in it."
Harry noticed that Kathleen seemed remarkably calm.
"You're in, Harry."
"What do you mean?"
"Why Harry, one of the occupants of that car was our linguist. You're the alternate. You'll take his place."
Chapter 7
The shock of the crash and the accompanying casualties weighed heavily on Harry. Maybe he was to blame. After all, he'd given permission for Fagen to do anything to get him assigned to the team. How far had Fagen gone?
How could he have known the extent Fagen would go to assure Harry's assignment? Was the explosion an accident? Or not?
He looked into his coffee cup as if the answers might be found floating amid the grounds. The phone buzzed and his mother answered. Harry, lost in his thoughts, didn't pay attention.
She replaced the receiver. "Harry?"
Harry turned his eyes from the cup.
"That was somebody from Braithwaite," she said with guarded anticipation. "They want you to come to the corporate offices."
"When?"
"As soon as possible. Right now."
Harry didn't stir.
Mrs. Irons waited expectantly. Finally, she asked, "Harry, is something the matter?"
"No, Ma, I'm going." He rose from the table and went downstairs to change clothes. In minutes, he was on his way to the Braithwaite Foundation corporate offices.
Arriving, he gave the receptionist his name. "Oh yes, here we are. Harrison Irons, room 331. Take the escalator to the right, Mr. Irons."
"Thank you." He should have been happy, excited at the prospects. Under the circumstances, he wasn't.
He found the room easily enough and entered. A secretary looked up from her computer screen. "Yes. Can I help you?"
