A Symphony of Echoes

by Jodi Taylor

  Major Guthrie said, ‘Max, have you got a minute?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said dismally, unable to think of an excuse. We sat down and I said, ‘Hello, Mrs Partridge. How are you?’

  ‘Very well, thank you, Miss Maxwell. Dr Maxwell, I should say.’

  ‘Please, call me Max. So, what can I do for all of you?’

  There was a pause. I wondered who had been elected spokesperson. Mrs Partridge stirred. ‘Max, we’ve been talking and we have a course of action to which we hope you will agree. I’m not sure how you’ll take this, but I’d like you to think about it very carefully.’

  Yes, my track record for thinking carefully was so good.

  ‘You might not like it, but I think you will see that it’s the only way forward. In fact, you might even have thought of it yourself.’

  Well, I had, but I wasn’t going to make this easy for them. They were going to have to come right out and say it. She cleared her throat.

  ‘We feel, after careful consideration, that given the current state of disarray it would be better if we were back on our feet before looking for a new Director for St Mary’s. We want to keep this as quiet as possible. The last thing we need is someone seizing on this as an excuse to interfere. Obviously, there’s no one here presently capable of assuming the role, so it has to be one of you. There really is only one person who has the right attitude to guide the unit through its difficulties and so, what I am trying to say, Max, is that we think you should take over as Caretaker Director; at least for the next few weeks. What do you think?’

  It didn’t go in at all. I was so fixated on them wanting the Chief that I didn’t actually hear it the first time round. I made her say it all again before I could find my voice.

  ‘But why me? Nearly everyone in this room is better qualified to do this. You can’t spend my entire working life calling me feckless and irresponsible and then tell me I’m just what the unit needs in a time of crisis.’

  Major Guthrie interrupted. ‘Yes, but that’s just it, Max. They don’t need a normal Director. They need someone like you. They can identify with you. You’re one of them. You sent them to bed in a happy frame of mind. You’ve just organised breakfast.’

  ‘For God’s sake, you make me sound like their mother.’

  ‘Well, that’s not so far off, is it? They’re children; they’re frightened, shocked, and hurt. They don’t need a Dr Bairstow, they need a Max.’

  I was gobsmacked. Director! Me!

  It wasn’t the responsibility. I’d headed missions where everything had turned to shit, we were isolated and alone, and I’d brought them back safely. It had never bothered me before. But this was different. This wasn’t a group of people who knew and trusted me. These were just kids. Kids who had seen too much, as well.

  Nobody spoke. I sat back in my chair and started to think it through. They waited for me in their own distinctive ways. Tim stretched his legs, dropped his chin on his chest, and went to sleep. Guthrie started checking over his weapons. Mrs Partridge produced a scratchpad – presumably from another dimension, since I was pretty sure that impeccably cut suit had no pockets – and waited expectantly. I zoned them out and started to think.

  All around us, the building fell silent. We’d left all the lights on to stop the kids having nightmares, but everything was quiet.

  I said to Mrs Partridge, ‘Please advise everyone. Tomorrow after breakfast, say at 11 a.m., there will be an all-staff meeting in the hall. I’ll tell people what’s happening. Can you let me have an updated staff-list and the most recent schedule of pending assignments? While I think of it, do we actually have anyone out on assignment at the moment?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I want to establish exactly who is still with us and what they do. The main job is keeping them here. Their first basic need – food – is taken care of. We can run the kitchens for a few days at least. Mrs Partridge, please speak with the kitchen staff and start ordering supplies. I want people to see stuff coming in. Show them this unit has a future. Are we likely to have any problems paying our bills?’

  ‘Not for a month or so. After that …’

  Shit! I hadn’t thought of this. No wonder the Boss was always in such a bad mood.

  ‘We’ll cross that bridge later. Major, our second need is security. That will be your responsibility. We’ll identify all remaining security staff at tomorrow’s meeting. I want everyone to know they’re safe now. Get security together and do whatever it takes.’

  ‘Yes, Director.’

  Bloody hell, that was me.

  ‘Tim.’ I knew he was awake. ‘You’ll take charge of the trainees and, I believe, our one remaining historian. Unless he or she is a complete idiot, promote him or her to Senior Historian. I want them to see a career path in front of them. If the trainees are within three months of their Finals, then abandon all that and qualify them immediately. They can pick up the rest as they go.

  ‘Any technicians are to be cherished. I want them starting in Hawking immediately. We’re going to bring back the pods as soon as we can. Major, you and I will supervise that between us until someone emerges from Sick Bay and can take over.’

  OK, they had wanted this, now they got it. I picked up speed.

  ‘Mrs Partridge, please open up the Director’s office; leave the door open and the lights on. I want people to wake up tomorrow morning knowing there’s a Director in place and St Mary’s is functioning. Please find me a uniform. I’m an historian, so make it blue. And if you could find us some accommodation, please. You two get your heads down for an hour or so. I’m off to Sick Bay to check on the wounded and brief the doctor. Any questions?’

  They shook their heads. I was getting up to go when I remembered the most important thing. ‘Please remember the basic rules of any assignment. Don’t contaminate the timeline. First names only. In addition, Mrs Partridge, as a matter of urgency, if they haven’t been destroyed, please could you remove the Boards of Honour from the Chapel. I don’t want to see the dates we die.’

  ‘Of course, Director.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you all at breakfast.’ I got up and walked away, so I never saw their faces and their reaction to the monster they’d created.

  Sick Bay was dimly lit. The nurse said something over her shoulder and the doctor appeared. He beckoned me into his office. I explained what was happening. He seemed pleased.

  I asked him his name.

  ‘Ben. Call me Ben.’

  ‘OK, Ben, update me.’

  It was grim. All the senior members of staff were dead or missing. Eight others seriously wounded, but all should recover. Another seven were walking wounded and would be released tomorrow, in time for the meeting. He had enough staff and supplies to cope. For the time being.

  That was a relief. If necessary, I would have sent Peterson back to my St Mary’s for medical aid, but I was unwilling to do so. Firstly, I didn’t want to leave my unit short should any of the Boss’s fears about a counter-attack at St Mary’s materialise. Secondly, I wanted them to stand on their own feet as soon as possible. However, I could hear the ‘but’ …

  ‘But …?’

  ‘But, Max, unless this is carefully handled, there’s a very real possibility they’ll be bolting out the door right after breakfast. Do you have a plan?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Nothing fancy. I’m going to feed them, pay them, keep them safe, make them laugh, and work them to death. Not necessarily in that order.’

  He smiled tiredly. ‘That should do it.’

  I said, ‘I have one concern.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How is this to be explained away to outside authorities?’

  He shifted in his seat. ‘Things have changed since your day. Our link with Thirsk is almost severed. We are no longer answerable to them for our funding. We are pretty much stand- alone these days, which you must have guessed since we’ve been inoperative for over a fortnight and no one seems to have noticed. But where the money is to come from
while we recover …’ He pulled himself up. ‘We usually hold a small service of remembrance. If you could appear at that as Director and speak, I think it would be greatly appreciated.’

  Thirteen people dead. We were about to bury thirteen members of St Mary’s. It was unprecedented. That bastard Ronan …

  I said, with a viciousness that surprised me, ‘I hate these fucking people.’

  ‘So do I,’ he said. ‘So do I.’

  I have to say I was curious to meet their Chief Technical Officer. From what everyone had been telling me, she was the person who had held it all together in the basement, despite repeated and often brutal punishment. Stubborn as a mule, they said and as soon as I clapped eyes on her, I could see what they meant. Even lying in bed, bandaged, bruised, and woozy, she radiated pugnacious belligerence, arguing with the staff and refusing her medication until someone – anyone – would tell her what the fu … what was going on. I liked her immediately.

  She glared at me with the one eye that was working properly.

  ‘Who the f …?’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said to the nurse. ‘Can you give us just a minute, please?’

  I thought it best not to give her the chance to get going again.

  ‘Good morning, Chief. I’m Max. Caretaker Director, for my sins. Here’s what’s happening. St Mary’s is secure. Tomorrow – no – later today, we start putting things back together again. My aim is to have the unit ready for you to get the pods back as soon as possible. I want you on your feet and functioning, so I’ll do you a deal. You take your meds and do as you’re told, and when you say you’re fit, I’ll authorise your discharge. You don’t need me to tell you how stupid it would be to discharge yourself before you’re ready, so I’m quite happy to leave this in your hands. Yours will be the decision.’

  She stared at me suspiciously. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  I threw caution and protocol out the window. I needed her on my side.

  ‘I’m Maxwell.’

  ‘You’re the one they wanted.’

  ‘Yeah. They should have been more careful what they wished for.’

  ‘How did you know what was happening?’

  ‘We didn’t. We came looking for our Chief and stumbled on all this.’

  ‘Who’s we?’

  ‘Me and two others.’

  ‘Just the three of you?’

  She slumped back again. I knew what she was thinking. Just the three of us had achieved what her entire unit could not.

  I shook my head. ‘We were expecting trouble. We had the element of surprise. And if your people hadn’t held out for so long then our efforts would have been useless. Don’t sell yourself short and don’t sell your unit short, either.’

  She blinked in surprise, then nodded and took her meds like a battle-weary angel.

  ‘Our missing Director. Did you find him?’

  ‘No. No sign.’

  From what I could see of her under all the bruising, she had a square face, with sandy hair worn in a long, thick braid over one shoulder, eyebrows to match, and a jaw on which you could crack nuts. I would have said she was as immoveable as the Great Pyramid. I could see why Ronan had tried to use others to induce her to part with the information. She hadn’t budged an inch, and now all those people were dead. I knew it. She knew it. I could see it in the shadows in her eyes.

  I sat down on the bed, said nothing, and waited.

  Eventually, she said, ‘Thirteen dead?’

  I nodded.

  She exhaled a long sigh. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Only thirteen.’

  She looked at me angrily. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

  ‘But it was what I meant. Only thirteen. If you’d told them what they wanted to know they’d have shoved the whole unit against a wall, shot you all, and taken the pods anyway. That would have been the end of more than just St Mary’s. I know how you must have felt, seeing your people die one by one – I’ve seen that happen myself – but you did exactly the right thing, Chief. You did your duty. Grieve for your friends and colleagues by all means, but the blame for all this does not lie with you. I don’t blame you. No one out there blames you. Don’t you blame you, either.’

  She lay back on the pillows, turned her head, and stared out of the dark window, blinking angrily. I thought it best to leave her. She wouldn’t want to cry in front of me. I got to my feet.

  ‘I’ll leave you to rest. If you like, I can come back later.’

  She nodded, still not looking at me.

  As I reached the door, she said, ‘There’s a data cube. Buried in the sand bucket behind my office door. Could you bring it to me, please?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome …’ I paused and waited.

  She sighed again. ‘They call me … Pinkie.’ Her voice still wasn’t strong, but I could hear the challenge.

  I kept my face straight and nodded solemnly. ‘Goodnight, Pinkie.’

  Chapter Eight

  I got an hour’s sleep and woke to my first day as Director of St Mary’s.

  I breakfasted with Peterson and Guthrie, and then we went to the briefing. Standing in front of them that morning was worse than my presentation at Thirsk, when at least I’d had a supporting cast of dinosaurs and volcanoes and a conscious Chief Farrell. And car-crashing sex afterwards, but it was probably best not to think about that now.

  I was accustomed to moderately hostile audiences – St Mary’s could be a tough gig. I’d even had people hanging on my every word (not as often as I would like, obviously), but I’d never before had to deal with apathy. They sat huddled together, taking up far fewer seats than I would have liked. However, at least they were here. Some had made it down from Sick Bay, which was good. I don’t know how their Director had handled his briefings but I stood in Dr Bairstow’s accustomed spot on the half-landing in the hall. They could see me, I could see them, and not too far away.

  ‘Good morning, everyone. For anyone who has just regained consciousness or hasn’t seen me yet, my name is Max, and I’ve been appointed Caretaker Director for the next few weeks. I’m afraid I don’t know many of you yet, so can you get yourselves a sticky label, write your first name on it, and stick it where I can see it. Please bear in mind that I’m not very tall.’

  If I’d said that at my St Mary’s, the buggers would be wearing them at groin height. Everyone solemnly pasted labels on their left-hand breast pockets. This unit had absolutely no sense of humour.

  ‘I’d like to congratulate you all on your performance these last weeks. You have survived. You won back your unit and soon you will have your pods back, as well. This is a huge achievement and you should be very proud of yourselves. St Mary’s thanks you for your service.’

  There was a slight murmur. Of what, I wasn’t sure.

  ‘I would now like to call for a two-minute silence to remember the friends and colleagues who aren’t here with us today.’

  They stood, and for two minutes, you could have heard a mouse breathe. It is a sad fact of life that the only time St Mary’s is really silent is when something awful has happened.

  I proceeded briskly. ‘Now then, to business. Our priority is to get our unit up and running so we can get our pods back. I’m going to run through the details now, and I’ll answer your questions at the end.’

  I said this to forestall any awkward questions. I certainly wasn’t going to ask if anyone wanted to leave. I didn’t want to give anyone the slightest opportunity to bolt out of the door. I was going to proceed on the assumption they were all going to stay. I hoped that by the time I got to the end, they would all want to stay. Fingers crossed.

  ‘Right. First on the list is the most important department in the building.’ They all sat up in expectation. ‘Where’s the kitchen crew?’

  There was a gasp and then, thank God, someone laughed. Three or four people stood up. ‘Firstly, thank you for breakfast.’

 
They smiled.

  ‘Are we OK for lunch?’

  They looked at each other, but a leader usually emerges.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m Christine.’

  ‘OK, Christine. And this evening?’

  She looked around. ‘We can do soup and sandwiches for lunch. This evening …’ she paused. ‘Toad in the Hole. Vegetable Lasagne. Apple Crumble.’

  Good to know the menu hadn’t changed much over the years. Except the introduction of a vegetarian option. They had vegetarians here?

  ‘Thank you, Christine. Put me down for a large portion of everything, please. Next …’ and they all sat up again. ‘Could the admin staff stand up please?’

  This time there was a more than a murmur. I looked down my nose at them. ‘What? You don’t want to be paid?’

  Silence.

  There were a quite a few admin staff present. Obviously they weren’t considered important enough to kill. ‘Your priorities are the payroll and re-establishing contact with the outside world in such a way that no one knows we’ve been gone. Mrs Partridge, if you could liaise with me on that, please.’

  I looked at them all and they all looked back at me. Rather in the manner of the abyss.

  ‘Could the security staff stand up, please?’

  There were more than I thought there would be, but on the downside, they were all pretty battered. Two of them couldn’t stand straight.

  ‘I’d like you all to meet the current Head of Security. Ian, could you make yourself known, please.’

  He stood slowly and turned so they could all see him, competence and confidence radiating from every orifice.

  ‘Ian will help you run through your systems and get your equipment working again. Never mind the grounds for the time being, just concentrate on these buildings and Hawking. One step at a time, people. I leave you in Ian’s capable hands.

  ‘OK. Technicians. I know you’re out there – I can hear you breathing.’

  That got a laugh. The technical section was nearly intact. Of course, they’d keep them alive to service the pods.