A Symphony of Echoes

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘I’ve seen your Chief this morning and she continues to recover. She’ll be back in a few days and God help you if not everything’s up and running for her to bring the pods back. Please check everything thoroughly. Report any problems to me and we’ll find the answer together. Let’s just give her a day or two, shall we?

  ‘IT, that goes for you too. Any difficulties, tell me, so I can stare at you, baffled and confused.

  ‘This leaves, yes, R&D. Where are you?’

  A bunch of uncoordinated people shambled untidily to their feet.

  ‘Do we have a Librarian?’

  No, was the answer to that one.

  ‘Deputy?’

  Same answer.

  ‘Anyone?’

  After some go on gestures, a young woman timidly raised her hand. ‘I’m Alicia.’

  ‘Good morning, Alicia. I’ve seen the library.’ I didn’t say how and I certainly didn’t tell them that I’d done some of the damage. ‘You have a huge task ahead of you, but it has to be done. People, the Archive is our heart and we have to restore it as quickly as possible. If anyone has finished in their own areas, or is unable to continue for some reason, please report to Alicia to see if she can use you.’

  Some security and technical people stirred. To nip that in the bud, I said, ‘I’ll be along myself, later on, to do a bit.’

  She nodded and said clearly, ‘Thank you, Director.’

  That was when the responsibility and the enormity of what I was doing actually hit me. A moment when I seriously wondered what the hell I thought I was playing at. I took another deep breath and stared at the expectant faces in front of me.

  ‘And finally, historians and trainees. Where are you, guys?’

  There were six trainees and just one historian. A young lad, only recently qualified, I guessed. He put his hands on his hips and glared defiantly around him. And at me. I asked him his name.

  ‘Evan.’ He stared suspiciously at me. ‘And you are?’

  I saw Tim hide a smile. I put my hands on my hips and mirrored his pugnacious stance.

  ‘Max.’

  ‘Should that mean something to us?’

  Oh God, I thought it had all been too easy. I was going to have to do the Director thing. I’d seen Dr Bairstow do this when we all went that bit too far. I stared long and hard. The silence went on. And on. I began to see the first flickering of uncertainty in his eyes. Now.

  Then, thank God, I had second thoughts. I smiled down at him.

  ‘Were you anything like this stroppy in the basement?’

  ‘A bit.’ One eye was nearly closed and he had a big bruise over his cheekbone. Otherwise, he seemed intact. He had got off lightly.

  ‘Well, good for you, Evan. But direct it towards rebuilding your unit. In honour of your friends.’

  He said nothing, but he didn’t back down either.

  I said, ‘Tim, would you stand up please. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Tim.’ He stood, tall, relaxed, confident, good-natured, and non-threatening. They were going to love him. ‘He will be taking charge of your department until you are able to look after yourselves. On his recommendation, I am promoting you, Evan, to Senior Historian and you trainees can now regard yourselves as fully qualified. Draw your blues as soon as possible. The pods will be back soon. I have here a list of assignments. Each mission will consist of three newly qualified historians, together with Tim and Evan in a supervisory category. Tim, please have mission plans on my desk in three days’ time.’

  I wanted them out there as soon as possible. Sending them in groups of three would give them confidence. Sending Evan to supervise would give him confidence, and sending Tim with all of them would give me confidence. I hoped to God I knew what I was doing.

  I passed Tim the list. The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. I’d chosen them because they were not event specific. They could be visited at almost any time in their existence. It was a kind of historical Sunday afternoon out. Easy but worthwhile. It was important they felt they were making a real contribution.

  I continued. ‘On your return, you will work up your findings in the usual manner and present them to St Mary’s, prior to filing them in the Archive.’ Many of us found the presentations more nerve-racking than the assignment itself, so it would give them something to take their minds off the present. Worrying about the future has that effect.

  ‘So, to sum up. Business as usual, as soon as possible. I’d like to thank all of you in advance for the truly enormous amounts of work you are about to embark upon. Anyone still alive at 1900 hours tonight – the first drink is on St Mary’s.’

  Well, it wasn’t my money!

  I swept off to my office, conveniently forgetting to ask if there were any questions.

  Mrs Partridge brought me a cup of tea. In a delicate flower-patterned cup and saucer. With two chocolate digestives.

  Oh, yes!

  I have never done so much paperwork. Where does it all come from? Who needs to know this stuff? Why don’t they get lives? I fled to see Leon.

  ‘He’s awake,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t be upset if he doesn’t know you. He doesn’t always know who he is at the moment and when he does, he keeps forgetting. Don’t be alarmed if he drops off in mid-sentence. Especially don’t worry if he starts talking strangely. He’s not mad – well, no more than anyone is who works at St Mary’s, but he doesn’t always know if he’s awake or dreaming.’

  ‘All right,’ I said slowly, trying to sound calm and confident.

  He patted my shoulder. ‘He’ll be fine. And so will you. Go on in.’

  ‘I’ll come and see you afterwards.’

  ‘I’m in my office.’

  Leon was asleep when I went in. But now, at least, he was clean, shaved, and gowned. I stood at the bottom of the bed, unsure, but even as I thought about coming back later, he jerked awake, fixed me with eyes that saw something else, and said hoarsely, ‘You need to take care. It’s the same name.’

  I said nothing and waited for him to re-focus. Gradually, he returned to the here and now. His eyes slid over me, wandered around the room, came back to me, and then closed again. I waited another few minutes, but that seemed to be it. I closed the door quietly behind me and went to find the doc.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said, as soon as he saw me. ‘It takes a while. Please don’t worry.’

  I nodded and tried not to worry. ‘How are your other patients?’

  ‘Pinkie had a better night and ate a little this morning. I’m not sure what you said, but well done. In fact, everyone continues to improve.’

  ‘How about you?’

  ‘Me? Oh, a bit tired but things are easier now. I’ll give you back your unit and then take a day or two for myself. Has anyone left yet?’

  ‘Not as far as I know. I’m going walkabout. I’m hoping that, if I keep moving, then no one will be able to catch me long enough to resign.’

  He laughed. ‘Come back this afternoon.’

  Actually, it was going all going quite well. I saw the kitchen taking in supplies, and no one was shouting about unpaid bills. Christine brought me a sheet of paper.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘The week’s menus, Director. For your approval.’

  What? Seriously? Their Director approved the weekly menus? What sort of control freak was he? Anyone trying that with our Mrs Mack would soon find themselves on the business end of her battle-ladle.

  I handed it back. ‘It’s your kitchen, Christine. I have every confidence in you. Whatever you decide will be just fine.’

  She seemed surprised. ‘Are you sure, Director?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said firmly. ‘See me or Mrs Partridge if you have any problems, but you’re the one in charge now.’

  Ian had everyone stripping down weapons. The techies had begun checking systems prior to initiating the return procedures.

  In the training wing, Peterson flourished a schedule at me, looked at me more closely and then sent his people off to help in the library.<
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  ‘What do you need?’ he said.

  ‘I need Helen to know how wonderful you are,’ I said, perching on the corner of his table.

  ‘She knows,’ he said smugly, ‘I demonstrate my wonderfulness daily. Twice on Sundays and Bank Holidays. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Can you go back to our St Mary’s? Will anyone miss you for a couple of hours?’

  ‘No. We can leave them in the library for the rest of the day if necessary.’

  ‘With luck, you’ll be back by this evening.’

  ‘Sure. Is anything wrong?’

  I looked around at the shattered unit and traumatised personnel.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I need you to do something for me.’

  He smiled. ‘Consider it done.’

  He was as good as his word, re-appearing just before knocking-off time. As far as I could see, no one had even missed him. I caught his eye. He wandered casually past, muttered, ‘Under the fourth step again,’ and then went off to see his people. I felt as if the weight of the world had lifted.

  I found Ian Guthrie. ‘Have you got a minute?’

  ‘Of course, Director.’

  I scowled at him. We went outside and stood on the steps, ostensibly getting some fresh air, while I explained what I wanted.

  ‘Dr Bairstow has reburied the sonnets under the fourth step for us to “discover” again.’ I did the hooked fingers thing. ‘So we’ll need an independent authority as a witness. I’ll get the SPOHB people round.’

  The Society for the Preservation of Historical Buildings people were old enemies. Over the years, St Mary’s has had a long and exciting relationship with the ancient building in which it was housed. The Clock Tower had inadvertently participated in an experiment based on the guns at the charge of the Light Brigade and was never quite the same again, and various fires, explosions, collisions, and catastrophes had taken their toll on the fabric. On one memorable occasion, swans had occupied the library for two days. SPOHB inspectors arrived nearly every month. Sometimes, they got a bit tight-lipped.

  ‘I’m going to hold a small competition. Each department can design and build a flying machine. It is important that at least one machine will not fly. There will be a small accident, resulting in damage to the steps. The subsequent inspection will reveal the sonnets. SPOHB will verify the discovery. St Mary’s sells them on for a fortune. Any questions?’

  He goggled a bit.

  Before he could recover, I said, ‘There’s one other thing. I need some of your people for a small building project.’

  I explained again.

  He groaned.

  ‘Can you do it?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘This needs to be done with flair and panache.’

  ‘I haven’t got to know all my team yet. Who are they?’

  ‘I made you,’ I said darkly. ‘I can break you.’

  He snorted.

  And back to Leon. I had no idea being the boss was such hard work.

  I entered his room warily, expecting God knows what, and he was awake and sitting up.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, as I walked in.

  ‘Hello, you,’ I said. ‘Any chance of any –?’ and Katie appeared with a mug of tea. I really liked being Director.

  He smiled at me, still heavy-eyed with drugs. ‘You always come for me, don’t you?’ And fell asleep again.

  I went to see Pinkie and she definitely seemed better. I fished out the data cube she had asked for, handed it over, and asked no questions. As usual, that tactic paid off.

  She balanced it on the palm of her hand and looked up at me.

  ‘This is what I thought they had come for. It seems I worried for nothing. If they knew what this was, they wouldn’t have wasted their time trying for our pods.’

  She fell silent again.

  I still said nothing. I knew she’d been making enquiries about me. About all three of us. She was making up her mind … The silence went on so long that I guessed we hadn’t made the cut and got up to go.

  ‘Max, I’ve had an idea. I’m sure I can get it to work and if I do, believe me, it will change everything. For everyone. I haven’t written much down, but there are some preliminary – thoughts – on this cube. I was terrified they’d stumble across it while looking for the location of the remote site. Please tell me they’re all dead.’

  ‘Most of them, yes. One or two got away, including Ronan, but he has other things on his mind at the moment. Who else knows about this? What about your Director?’

  ‘No. Nor any of the other senior staff. To be honest, it sounds so crazy on the face of it, that I’m reluctant to mention it to anyone until I’ve got a better handle on things.’

  ‘Well, no one will hear about it from me.’ I was intrigued, but knew better than to ask. This was future stuff and nothing to do with me. ‘So, when may we expect the honour of your company?’

  ‘Maybe the day after tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘Excellent. You just lie there and heal and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.’

  I announced the deadline at the next morning’s meeting.

  ‘She’s healing as fast as she can,’ I said, ‘and I don’t want to be the one telling her we’re not ready, so let’s get cracking.’

  We pretty well made it. She limped from Sick Bay after lunch on her designated day to a round of applause from everyone in Hawking. They immediately formed some sort of techie huddle and after that, no one’s feet touched the ground. We scheduled the pods to return in two days. IT protested and Pinkie told them to move it up a gear. Words were exchanged and I experienced the novelty of peace-making. The kitchen worked overtime to keep us all fed and watered, and the rest of the unit pitched in. Barely in time, we were ready for our pods.

  I had wanted flags and bunting to mark their return, but the remembrance service was that afternoon. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, and I wanted the service held as soon as possible, so everyone could say their personal goodbyes to friends and colleagues, and move on.

  Mrs Partridge gave me brief personal details of those who had died and somewhat nervously, I spoke. I paid a small tribute from us all, which seemed to go reasonably well. There were tears and tissues were passed and hands were held but we all got through it together. Now, we looked to the future.

  I chose Number Three for the first assignment – the pyramids at Giza. Techies swarmed all over it like orange ants and it was pronounced fit for purpose. The jump was scheduled for the next morning, and now we really could make a fuss.

  Everyone crowded on to the gallery and gave them a round of applause – Tim, Evan, and three very apprehensive, newly qualified historians. I walked with them to Number Three. We stopped at the door.

  ‘Right,’ said Peterson. ‘Has everyone been to the toilet and got their lunch money?’

  Evan snorted, but the three trainees found a small chuckle from somewhere. I shook hands and retreated behind the line. Pinkie looked knackered but fairly relaxed, so I wasn’t going to worry either.

  They seemed to hang around for a very long time. Certainly long enough for me to panic and imagine three terrified trainees clawing at the door to get out. Just as I was about to use my com link, they jumped, and the collective sigh of relief nearly blew me over.

  I made sure the whole unit assembled for the return. I dragged everyone out of offices, kitchens, toilets, everywhere. There were too many for the gantry, so some of us gathered behind the line, ready to cheer. Peterson and I had a pre-arranged signal should disaster have occurred, but everything seemed OK, which didn’t stop me shifting from foot to foot, imagining the worst, muttering under my breath, and generally annoying Guthrie.

  The door opened, and Evan led them out, smiling and waving. I will never forget the great roar that echoed around Hawking, and my heart swelled in response. Some people jumped up and down, cheering. Others hugged or shook hands, depending on their people skills. R&D staff unfurled a huge banner reading: �
�One Down. Six To Go’. It seemed to be made of bed sheets stapled together and I could see I would have Housekeeping talking at me for an hour or so later on. I began to feel a certain sympathy for Dr Bairstow.

  Peterson followed them out, quietly effacing himself, which I appreciated. He looked for me in the crowd, then made his way over.

  I said, ‘Nice one, Tim. Any problems?’

  ‘No, none at all.’

  ‘What was the delay setting off?’

  ‘Oh, someone farted and the nervous tension set them all off. It took ages for them to stop giggling, pull themselves together, and make the jump.’

  I looked at him. ‘So who farted then?’

  He grinned evilly. ‘That would have been me.’

  Guthrie said, ‘Can’t speak for Max, of course, but when we go home, mate, you go alone.’

  After that, it was easy. The second jump, the Colossus of Rhodes, went really well. The third, the Hanging Gardens less so, because they couldn’t find them. Which was interesting. I added it to the pile of things to think about.

  St Mary’s got noisier. People ran up and down the stairs shouting at each other and doors slammed everywhere. R&D blew the cistern off the wall in the third trap of the gents’ toilet on the second floor. Actually, we never really got to the bottom of that.

  We removed the more obvious signs of battle and strife and I asked Mrs Partridge to get the SPOHB people in to oversee the repairs so they could witness our ‘discovery’ of the sonnets.

  ‘Actually, Director, they’re not the Society for the Preservation of Historical Buildings any longer. Some time ago, they merged with a similar organisation and are now the Society for the Preservation of English Regalia and Monuments.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ I said, astounded and remembered, too late, that this was Mrs Partridge. The room temperature plummeted.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, hastily. ‘I was just – a bit surprised.’

  ‘As were we all,’ she said, dryly. ‘However, they are the people who should supervise our repairs, so I’ll contact them immediately. When would be convenient?’

  ‘Two weeks. We’ll get our flying machines built – please emphasise they are to be unmanned – and then we’re ready for anything.’