Linda blinked in confusion. "Many other anomalies?" she asked.
William's eyes flashed with excitement. "Scads, Madam, though it only makes sense to call them ‘anomalies’ when you are certain you know what’s ‘normal.’ You’ll find them here, on Mars. On the moon. On the surfaces of most of the rocky planets in this solar system, as well as a multitude of asteroids, moons and moonlets. Towers. Tunnels. Bridges. Facilities. Cities. And then there are the many artifacts floating about in space, from abandoned space stations and unexploded ordnance to derelict ships of all kinds and sizes, like our old friends Phobos and Deimos orbiting above." The Fisherman turned slowly before her, his arms spread wide as he indicated the depths of space all around them. "This was quite the happening place at one time," he said, his voice tinged with awe. He looked at Linda and winked. "As you Americans used to say," he added.
As if on cue, Phobos appeared on the distant horizon. Linda stared at it for a moment, then turned back to the Fisherman. "And when did this all occur?" she asked.
William waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, eons ago, my dear," he said. "Millions and tens of millions of years, some of it, though some of it more recent. And not really the point of this at all." The Fisherman moved a bit closer to the President. "I mean to say, Madam, that little of that history directly impacts on our present dilemma, I should think. Ancient aliens. Cosmic wars. Artifacts. All true. And all long past. But the ancients, including our distant forebears, the Fortunate, left behind a genetically manipulated race of confused, traumatized primates with more cleverness than common sense - us - and we've rather cocked things up here since being left to our own devices." The Fisherman stopped and sighed deeply, running an astral hand through his astral hair. He glanced shyly at Linda, then turned to watch Phobos' slow approach. "As you have already concluded," he added in a low voice.
Linda raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know that we haven’t exactly been ‘left to our own devices,’ William,” she said. “Not unless what I went through three years ago was all some grand theatrical con job. And not unless that Grid in the Earth’s sky is you guys.”
William smiled tightly and bowed. “Point taken,” he agreed. “The Solar System was not entirely abandoned by non-terrestrial intelligences eons ago. In fact,” he pointed down toward the Martian surface, “we could find living alien beings at work on Mars even today, were we to look for them. I was referring more to the builders of these ancient structures we find scattered about.”
“Because the aliens that are still here today don’t leave us to our own devices, do they William?”
The Fisherman wrinkled his nose. “We shall have to tease the truth of that apart as we go, Madam. But yes… those still present do have some impact on our present situation.”
"So why show me all this ancient alien stuff then?" asked Linda.
The Fisherman rubbed his hands together. "A bit of context, Madam. To inform our little chinwag. It was the Fortunate who left the Life here, after all, those whom people call the Grays or the Watchers. Like us humans, the Life are another created race that has been here in the solar system, and on Earth, since time immemorial, though there are good reasons to believe that the gray aliens were not abandoned, but chose to stay. Whether as caretakers or inheritors or masters or slaves no one is quite sure. Probably all of the above, as far as they're concerned. It has been difficult to trust what they say."
Linda stopped and watched as Phobos passed silently and quickly directly overhead, a curiously lined potato, an ancient space vessel. She looked at William with a furrowed brow. "How could it -?"
William lifted his shoulders. "Time is more malleable in this band," he explained. "I sped things up so we'd get that little fly-by. Dramatic, yes?"
Linda watched as Phobos hurried away, glanced down at the "face," then back at William. "Time is still flowing back on Earth, William," she said firmly. "My husband and my… his… children need me. Can we get on with it?"
The Fisherman bowed. "Of course." In an instant, they were both in deep space. The sun was no more than a distant spotlight. What Linda assumed was the gas giant Saturn, her rings glowing brightly, filled the sky overhead. William grabbed Linda's hand and flew her closer in, pulling her around and over and down below a smaller sphere, if such words as "around" and "over" and "below" made any sense here, as unhinged from reference points as they were.
To Linda's eye, the sphere looked at first like the Earth's moon. But as she neared, she could see that it wasn't nearly as pockmarked with craters, and that the blue-gray surface was lined with veins of green. It reminded Linda of a melon of some sort, save for the speckling of lights clustered near the equator on the shadowed side.
"Enceladus," said William as they came to a stop. "One of the inner large moons of Saturn, and the quickest way I know to make my next point."
Linda spun slowly around, taking it all in. "It's beautiful," she said.
William followed her gaze. "I quite agree."
"So we can leave the confines of Mars, then."
William winked. "When you are with me, Madam President, we can go anywhere we wish."
Linda scrunched her nose. "And your 'next point'?"
"Ah," said the Fisherman. "Well. It's like this. You are burdened, I fear, with a particular mandate handed to you by the homeless wanderer you called Obie. No doubt you remember, back to those thrilling days of yesteryear, as the two of you sat in that beat up little mobile home on Bathurst Island? Your hair was different then."
Linda did remember. Obie, Cole’s brother, had rescued her from the tortures of Agent Theodore Rice and the confines of one of the aliens' underground lodges. He'd whisked her away to safety in the far North. There they'd spent a day in deep conversation and welcome healing, a much needed respite from the long days of running, and a chance to grieve what had seemed, at the time, like the death of her new love, Cole. She had nothing but wonderful memories of that day and place, and would not let the Fisherman's attempt to belittle them take the good feelings away. "You presume too much, William," she said, her voice steady and strong.
William closed his eyes and breathed slowly before looking at her again. "You understand that we heard every word?"
"Yes, William. And still you presume too much."
"Perhaps," said the Fisherman with a nod.
Linda nodded back, making a note of the moment. Despite his power and seemingly endless access to information, there were still things this Fisherman did not understand. Like people from all walks of life and all corners of the world, he had his own set of limiting stories and beliefs and assumptions. Perhaps one of them would trip him up at some point, giving Linda an advantage she did not now see.
"In any event, Madam President, you came out of the long conversation with a mandate. Do you remember it?"
"You know I do, William. I've made no secret of it in the years since. As President of the United States of America, it has been my job, my duty, my calling, ever since those "thrilling days" you seem to want to mock, to help lead my people through the unraveling of our present social systems and toward our place amongst the stars. I used words very close to that in my State of the Union speech a few months after my return. I'm sure you know all of this."
The Fisherman smiled. "Of course. And we've already established your failings with regard to the first goal, have we not? The American People, most of them at the very least, had little interest in, or capacity for, taking the real steps required to create what you might have termed, with a bit of humor, a 'kinder, gentler collapse,' did they? And you know now that there was never any hope that you would be able to somehow thwart the vast forces responsible for the unraveling of the global industrial culture."
"I'll agree for the present," said Linda.
"And so now - and it pains me to do so, Madam President - I find myself in the unenviable position of having to point out your failure with regard to the second goal."
"And how is that, William?" asked Linda.
The Fisherman gestured toward the Saturnian moon. "No doubt you noted those lights on the surface of Enceladus as we circled about?"
Linda nodded. "I did."
"That's the Herschel Colony, Madam President. Named after the man who first discovered Enceladus in the 18th century and built almost sixty years ago. By us."
Linda shook her head in confusion. "But... that would have been in the Sixties, William. We hadn't even reached the moon yet."
William smiled and patted his hands together, a gesture that felt, to Linda, both impatient and scornful. "Please understand, Madam President: When I say us, I don't mean you." The Fisherman drifted slowly upward, as if rising behind his desk to peer down at a stubborn student. "There's no need for you to 'lead your people to the stars' or some such nonsense, you see. The human race now has colonies in over a dozen locations in this solar system, and is establishing new colonies in nearby star systems as we speak." He stopped, then moved in more closely and continued in a quiet voice. "We've been at it for many decades now, Madam. You're really much too late to the game to be of any help at this point. The human species has already taken its rightful place amongst the stars."
7.10
Mary rode the elevator to the second floor. She’d found Ness and explained what she'd seen in Keeley's field, headed down to the ground floor, and stepped outside to make a call on her cell. It took her a few tries, but eventually she'd reached Keeley’s doctor. She conveyed what she'd learned about the alien flu's possible trigger, but the notion seemed beyond him. Frustrated, she ended the call, vowing to speak with her own doctors as soon as she could. She headed back inside. It was time to get back to her sweetie and see what else she might learn.
The elevator doors slid open and she stepped out into the brightly lit hallway. With no more than a brief nod to the nurse sitting at the corner station, she turned to the right. Consumed by Keeley’s situation, she scarcely registered that the nurse was someone she hadn’t seen before. Mary's heart was skittering with fear. Her right hand shook uncontrollably.
Mindful of her movements, wary of a dizzy spell hitting her in this time of stress, she reached out to run her left hand lightly along the railing as she walked, her head down to watch her step. She inhaled deeply, then pushed a smile onto her face. Keeley was right: Mary was so accustomed to just spilling her feelings out, to letting Keeley be the strong one, that she hadn’t stopped to wonder how what she said might affect her partner. She was determined to put Keeley’s feelings first this time. Keeley needed that from her.
Looking up, Mary was puzzled to find Keeley’s door already open. She came to the entryway and started in, expecting to find a doctor or nurse speaking with her partner. She found only an empty room and an empty bed. The covers were still disheveled. The machines were all still on. Mary stepped inside and scanned the room, confused, incredulous. She checked the drawer of the tiny bedside table, expecting Keeley's things, finding nothing but a pharmaceutical pamphlet. She looked in the closet and bathroom. Keeley’s things were gone from there as well. Her heart pounding fiercely, Mary turned and headed out the door.
Forgetting her shaking hand and ignoring any fear of dizziness, Mary marched down the hallway to the nurses’ station. “Where’s Keeley Benedict?” she called out ahead of her as she approached the counter. She came to a stop and put her hands on the edge of the station and dropped her head to take a couple of breaths. She looked up at the nurse sitting there staring back up at her. “Where’s Keeley?” she asked again. Her voice was shaking and there were tears at the edges of her eyes.
The nurse smiled sweetly. He was a handsome young man, unusually thin with bright green eyes and beautiful blonde hair. “Greetings, Ms. Hayes,” he said.
Mary frowned. She’d never seen this man. How did he know her name? “I need to know where Keeley is,” she said again. “Keeley Benedict. She was in A213. She’s the President’s Chief of Staff.” As she spoke, the two other nurses working at the station turned to watch her. A tiny, black-haired woman with unusually wide eyes gave her a smile. A dark young man with a bald head put a hand to the Bluetooth headset on his ear and mumbled something Mary could not hear, then went back to his computer. Mary’s heart began to pound more quickly. She’d never seen any of these nurses before. All she could think to do was ask her question again. “Where’s Keeley?” The question triggered the release of a tear, which started to crawl down her cheek.
The green-eyed man brought his hands together in front of his chest. “She’s been transferred to the facility at Squirrel Island, Ms. Hayes,” he said. He cocked his head slightly and watched her intently, his gaze following Mary’s tear as it slid down her face. Another nurse, this one an extremely tall young woman with a strikingly beautiful, vaguely feline face, stepped into the nurses’ station from the hallway behind them.
Mary took a step back and reached out to grab the counter before she could fall. “She… “ Mary said. “They took her? But she was just… “ She shook her head as if dislodging mosquitos, then looked around from nurse to nurse. “I can’t… I mean… she was just…” She closed her eyes and blew out a hot cloud of frustration, then glanced at the green-eyed nurse. “Is Doctor Gholson in yet?” she asked. She needed to speak with someone she knew. Somebody who would know what was going on. Somebody she could trust. She’d just spoken to the doctor on the phone. “He said he was on his way.”
The green-eyed nurse's face went blank for a moment before he responded, as if he was downloading information. “No, Ms. Hayes,” he said at last. “Dr. Gholson will not be in today.” Two more nurses approached from the left and stood at Mary’s side. They were both short and thin. They appeared to be identical twins, save that the one on the right had eyes the color of Dijon mustard.
The tiny, wide-eyed woman stood and approached the counter. “They will take good care of your partner while you are away,” she said. Her eyes were huge and dark and intense, like black holes that could swallow a person whole.
Mary stepped away again, backing slowly across the hallway until her shoulders met the block wall behind her. She looked at the nurses, one after the other. Their fields were naught but faint blue hazes. Her hands trembled. Her knees felt weak and wobbly. Her heart beat against the cage of her ribs like a sledgehammer. Inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself, Mary turned and headed for the elevator without another word.
Mary paced the first floor hallway near the hospital’s back door. She stared at her phone, unsure what to do next. She’d wanted to go back inside, assert her authority, tell them who she was and who she worked for, and make them listen to her. But she knew now that that wouldn’t work. Not anymore. There was no one here to back her up. The President was in confinement. Keeley had been whisked away. Cole had gone missing. As had Stan Walsh, curiously enough. As had the General, some days ago.
She’d tried calling Mike Portnoy, Keeley’s Deputy, but apparently he’d just left the state on some emergency. Neither had she been able to get in touch with the VP, Albert Singer. Nor had she been allowed to speak with Colonel Westwood, the Commander in Charge of all military operations within the Capitol City Green Zone. Even Gilder and Sanchez, her usual Secret Service escorts, had been replaced that morning by a strange little man named Boots whom Mary had never seen before. And there was not a soldier in the entire hospital that would respond to her requests and demands. Mary could claim all the authority she wished, but if the guys with the guns paid her no mind, and there was nobody around to back her up, then her claims were just so much talk, the distracted ramblings of the President's glorified, whack-job nanny, distraught and panicked that her carpet-munching lover had the alien flu. Dismissed.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. As Mary had stepped back from the nurses’ station, realization had bloomed in her mind. These young people had a force about them. A power. A pulsating psychic wall that would thwart, Mary knew, any attempt she might make to see and read their fields. Mary had encountered such walls before. She kne
w who these nurses were. And she knew that these nurses could read her field. Mary turned and walked out the hospital door as quickly as she could. There was too much happening that she did not understand. She needed time to think.
Outdoors, in the late afternoon heat, Mary bent forward and steadied herself, propping her hands on her knees, drawing deep breaths to calm her pounding heart and shaking shoulders. The situation on the ground had changed right under her feet. Those were hybrids back there. Tubies. Neomorphs. She was sure of it, even though these looked more perfectly human than any she'd ever before seen.
She'd thought that the Tubies, save for Alice, who had stayed behind for a time, had all gone missing with their creators three years ago. Yet here they were, taking over the hospital for reasons she could not comprehend, and obviously aligned with strong forces whose goals and intentions Mary could not yet divine. They’d taken Keeley away. Hidden her out of reach behind a wall that Mary could not breach. They’d taken the hospital, where her friend, Ness, and the President’s three precious children, were all being guarded. They'd replaced part or all of the MaineCentral medical staff, and at least a part of the local military command, and who knew what else?
Mary pushed herself back to a standing position, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and scanned the sky. There was only one thing left to do. She hated the thought of it, but saw no other way. Never again would she leave a child behind. And never would she cease her efforts to be reunited with Keeley. Mary inhaled deeply and started across the parking lot. She realized that she had made a decision, one she'd been trying to avoid since first discovering Linda's kids in the MRI. Since the forces lining up against her could not be opposed here, on the ground, Mary would have to fight them in another realm.
She would, indeed, and as the tiny, wide-eyed woman had said, be going away. Mary wondered just how it was that this Tubie nurse could have known that.
Rumi's Field (None So Blind Book 2) Page 24
