Andi sighed and followed him out.
*
Later, after returning to the Antiquarian and spending some time alone in her rooms thinking about their trip to Thoume, Andi went to Deneb’s quarters. They had joint access to each other’s rooms unless they specifically coded the privacy as red, and although they usually requested entry to each other, when Andi had pressed the button several times to no effect, she opened the door and stood in the doorway, looking in.
Deneb’s rooms reflected him very closely, she thought—stylish, quite flamboyant with their bright colors, and decked out with the occasional artifact that he couldn’t bear to be parted with: an old book from the first press on the primary Mars colony; a piece of jewelry from the Proximians; a beautiful ceramic pot from Old-Time England’s medieval period. The chipped Ruvalian statue rested on a table in the corner, forgotten, dull in the starlight.
Deneb sat in a chair over by the window, staring out at the stars that wheeled around them in their continual, rather beautiful dance. At night most of the crew lowered the shutters, which blocked out any sunshine from nearby stars, but Deneb’s were still open, giving him a panoramic view of the local system. Andi doubted that he was actually seeing the constellations, however. She knew that look on his face and guessed that his brain was seeing pictures drawn from memories rather than the scene before him.
He didn’t look over as she entered. His hand was resting on a glass of an amber liquid, and she saw the familiar bottle of Lagavulin Islay malt whisky next to him on the floor, one of the many bottles he had stolen from an Earth supplier before fleeing his home planet.
She leaned against the doorframe, watching him for a moment, twisting inside to see the sad look on his face. She knew without asking that he was thinking about her mother. He always looked like that when he thought about her, and the whisky was always present in his hand then, too.
“I’m going to bed,” she said eventually, when she realized that he didn’t even know she was standing there.
He looked over. His hair was ruffled where he had taken off his hat and hadn’t bothered to brush it, and he looked younger than his thirty-seven years. “Goodnight,” he said. “I hope you sleep well.” He didn’t rise to kiss her as usual and Andi’s bottom lip trembled in an uncharacteristic display of emotion.
“Are you angry with me, Dad?”
He smiled then, the fierce, rather angry look in his eyes dissipating, and he held his free arm out. She came over, knelt beside his chair, and hugged him.
“Of course not, love. Why should I be angry with you?”
“I know that you wanted to go and get the Golden Star, and I said you shouldn’t.”
“It was only common sense, Andi. You were right.”
“I suppose. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know.” He kissed her on the top of her head.
She got to her feet and went back to the door, turning once more to look at him before she left. She bit her lip, then blurted out: “I miss her too, Dad.”
Deneb stared at her. “I know,” was all he said.
Outside the window, Andi watched the purple-blue orb of Thoume rise and begin to block out the starlight, and Deneb’s face fell into shadow. He looked back out at the stars, his eyes distant, and took a large swallow from the glass before raising the bottle to pour out some more whisky.
For a moment she hesitated, wishing they could share their loss because it might make it easier for both of them. But she sensed that Deneb didn’t want to talk about his grief. For him it was still too deep, too dark, to share.
Quietly, she left the room and let the door slide shut.
*
Andi opened her eyes. It was still dark. She checked the clock by the side of the bed. It was just after two a.m., ship-time. She knew that outside the shutters the Antiquarian would now be in daylight, orbiting a short distance from Thoume on the side of its sun, but the ship always ran on Earth time, and the Waiter had not yet lifted the shutters that covered the Carbex windows. She raised her head from the pillow and rubbed her eyes, yawning. What had awoken her?
She frowned, sitting up. Something had definitely roused her. She swung her feet over the bed and put on her soft shoes, then pulled her robe closely around her. Had the noise come from Deneb’s quarters, just down the corridor? She remembered that he had been drinking when she left him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken her by throwing a bottle at the wall and smashing it, angered, as always, by visions of the past that plagued him.
She walked to her door and pressed the green button to open it, then peered out. The corridor was quiet. There was no sign of anyone. She ran down to Deneb’s quarters. The red light was on, indicating that he did not want to be disturbed.
She pressed for entry anyway, and held down the communicator button. “Dad?” she asked. She waited, but there was no reply. “Dad?” She waited for a few minutes, then knocked loudly on his door, but he still didn’t answer. Getting worried now, she stood there biting her nail as she wondered whether she ought to try and enter his room without his permission. He would be angry if he was there and she burst in. But what if there was something wrong, if he had drunk too much, and was ill?
Quickly making a decision, she reached into her pocket and took out the small screwdriver she had put in there for this very purpose. She used it to lever open a small panel next to the entry pad, revealing the circuitry of the door.
She jumped a little as a low voice said: “What are you doing, Andi?” It was the Waiter, who was observing her on the cameras that were stationed at various points throughout the ship.
“Nothing to concern you, go back to sleep,” she muttered. “Clearance code Alpha November 239.” It was her own personal code that she had programmed into the Waiter—unknown to Deneb—that allowed her to do pretty much whatever she wanted.
“Yes, Andi.” The Waiter fell silent.
Carefully, she loosened the green wire leading to the lock and then, using a pair of pliers, also from her pocket, she cut it.
The door slid back silently, and stayed open. Andi held her breath, expecting a sharp reprimand, but none came, so she peered into the room, then stepped inside. It was empty. She crept through the lounge area, noting, to her surprise, that there was still an almost full bottle of whisky beside the chair, and went through to his sleeping room. She peeped around the corner.
The bedcovers were straight, and obviously hadn’t been slept in.
Andi stared at them, wondering in her sleepy state where he had gone. Down to the mess to get something to eat? Up to the bridge to check the flight path? And then her eyes fell on a notepad on a nearby table, the blue light at the top flashing to indicate that there was a message to be read.
Hesitantly, she picked it up, pressing the button to bring up the waiting message.
Dear Andi (it read)
If you’re reading this, then you’ve disobeyed the red light on the door and come into my room! Don’t worry, I’m not cross. I knew you’d find a way in when I didn’t appear, and that’s why I’ve left you this note.
Don’t be angry with me, although I know you will be, but I’ve gone back to Thoume to try to find the girl with the Golden Star. I know you think it’s because of the ship’s account, but it’s not just that. I keep thinking of her in that awful place, and I know I’ve got to do something to get her out, something to help Clios and her people.
Give me five days. If you don’t hear from me by then, you’ll know that something’s gone wrong. If that happens, please forgive me, and know that I was only trying to do the right thing. Head back for Earth, Andi love, and contact the ORC. They’ll help you decide what to do with your life.
I love you very, very much. Your father, Deneb.
Andi put the notepad on the table. An image flashed through her mind—a knight of Old-Time England, dressed in armor, riding astride a large white destrier. Off to rescue a princess. Off to save the world.
“Waiter!” she yelled.
“Yes, Andi?”
“Where is Deneb?”
“In the cargo bay, Andi.”
She ran out of the door and down the corridor, pulling her warm robe closely around her pajamas. He must have awakened her just as he left his room, so she should still have time to catch him. She sprinted down to the elevator and, once inside, shouted: “Cargo Bay! Please!”
“Yes, Andi.” The Waiter closed the doors and the elevator began to sink slowly through the levels.
“Faster, Waiter!”
“Safety regulations state that the optimum rate for an elevator to descend is one level per every six seconds.”
Andi said something rude. The Waiter seemed to think about it. “Is that an order, Andi? I’m not sure I follow.”
“Override safety regulations, clearance code Alpha November 239. Get this elevator down!”
“Yes Andi.” The levels began to flash by as the elevator sank rapidly down to the bottom cube of the ship. It slowed as it reached the cargo bay, and Andi stood by the doors impatiently, waiting for them to open. When they did so she ran out and down the corridor to the bay that housed the Sparrowhawk.
The internal doors to the cargo bay were shut. She waved her hand over the sensor, but they didn’t open. She looked through the glass windows into the bay and saw that the Sparrowhawk was already moving, heading down the bay for the large cargo doors at the end.
“Waiter, open these doors.”
“I cannot do that Andi, Deneb has coded the doors red.”
“Override it, Waiter, clearance code Alpha November 239! Quickly!”
There was an almost dramatic pause before the Waiter replied: “I cannot do that, Andi. Your access code will not work on this lock.”
So, Deneb had known about her special clearance code. He had let her use it to get down here, but had known that she would try and override his red privacy code on the door.
“Waiter! Open the doors and let me in!”
“I cannot do that, Andi.”
But she already knew that—the doors wouldn’t open while the bay was decompressed, even if she managed to break the code he’d used. Palms pressed against the glass, she watched the Sparrowhawk exit the cargo bay and drop into space. The doors shut slowly, blocking out the dazzling light from Thoume’s sun.
Stupid Deneb. Stupid, stupid Deneb. Sliding down the wall, Andi put her face in her hands and wept.
Chapter Four
Five Days Later
Andi sat at the head of the table, head bowed, listening to Jack, who was talking to the officers of the Antiquarian crew that he had called to the meeting.
“Deneb’s instructions were quite clear,” he stated, tapping the notepad on which Andi’s father had left his message. “If he didn’t return in five days, we were to take Andi back to Earth.”
“I know.” Caelum, the Earthman who ran the Engineering section, lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It’s just so difficult to take in. I can’t believe he’s not coming back.”
“Me neither.” The next speaker was from the planet Michabo, several star systems away from Earth’s. His name was Ioto and, although humanoid like the others at the table, he was the crewmember who looked least like an Earthman. His skin had a strange, translucent quality to it, so that his veins and muscles were just visible, due to the fact that his civilization lived beneath the surface of the planet, in cities constructed from caves and tunnels under the ground. His eyesight was thus not one of his most important senses and his eyes were small and weak—like a blind man, Ioto found everything by touch and his people had developed long hairs on their hands to increase their sensory awareness. Because of this, Ioto was in charge of the museum artifacts, as he was so gentle with the many fragile items. “What’s going to happen when we get back to Earth?”
“I don’t know.” Jack looked troubled. Andi watched him mutely. His brown, wrinkled skin looked even more parched than usual. “We’ll have to talk about that on the way. But I really think we should get going. Now the Hoshaens have overrun the Ruvalians, it’s possible they may turn their attention to the skies, and the last thing Deneb would have wanted was his ship—and Andi—to be taken.”
Another Earthman called Taurus, who was the ship’s chef in charge of food and other supplies, leaned across and squeezed Andi’s hand. Like the animal after which the constellation was named, he was a large man, with huge shoulders and muscled arms. His touch on her hand, however, was gentle. “You know that we would help if we could, don’t you Andi? But there’s nothing we can do. We’re not soldiers, and we can’t risk losing you or the ship.”
“I understand.” Her voice was very small. “If he couldn’t get out of the Black Hole, then no-one can.”
“That’s right.” Jack seemed cheered by her submissive attitude. “Right then, what’s the time? Nearly sixteen-hundred-hours. We’ll aim to leave at eighteen-hundred-hours—that’s enough time to finish the repair, Caelum?”
“More than enough. It should only take an hour.” They had taken some stray fire from the planet and, after retreating a little out of range, Caelum’s crew was in the process of fixing it.
“Okay.” They all looked at Andi, who was sitting quietly in her seat, staring at the table. Jack cleared his throat. “We’re all very sorry about your father, Andi.”
“Thank you.” She lifted her head then, and there were tears in her eyes. “At least he died doing what he loved—taking part in an adventure, playing the hero.” She stood up and put her hands on the table. “Thank you for your support. Once we’re underway, we’ll call another meeting to talk about what we’ll do when we reach Earth.” And she walked out of the cabin, head high, but not before one of the tears had found its way down her cheek.
Outside, in the corridor, Andi leaned against the wall for a moment. Had it worked? She placed her ear against the wall. She could just hear the voices inside.
“…must be terribly difficult for her,” said Ioto’s clipped tones. “…handling it very well…”
“…always count on Andi to do the right thing…” came Jack’s low voice.
Andi gritted her teeth and began to walk down the corridor towards her quarters. It had taken all of her stamina to sit meekly at that table and not protest at their decision to follow Deneb’s orders. She knew that Jack was not a coward and that he just wanted to get her to safety, but still, she was angry and disappointed that the others had not tried to mount their own rescue party to save her father.
So, she was going to have to do it instead. She wiped the tear away that rested on her cheek. Little did the others know that it was a tear of frustration and anger rather than sadness. Andi was so cross with Deneb that she wanted to scream. Firstly he’d left without telling her, to try and rescue the stupid Golden Star, and then he’d gone and got himself captured. To demand that she leave him there was just the blueberry icing on one of Taurus’s special cupcakes. She had waited five days, as he had stipulated, but that was as far as she was going to follow his instructions.
It was possible he was dead already, she made herself consider as she reached her cabin. If that was the case, this secret trip down to Thoume’s surface was pointless, and was only going to land her in unnecessary trouble. But somehow, Andi didn’t believe that her father was dead. Deneb had always told her that he had nine lives, and she didn’t think they were all used up yet. Three or four, maybe, but not nine, not yet.
She went into her cabin and dressed in a warm, fleece-lined, dark-green suit and donned a thick, dark-brown jacket over the top. She packed her bag with a change of clothes, her Wordbox and some food, and then stood and looked at herself in the mirror. In the shadows cast by the Waiter’s reproduction of late daylight, she was barely visible against the dark carpet and walls. Her blonde hair stood out like a halo, however, shining in the darkness, and so she took a black cap and jammed it down over her hair. Nodding with satisfaction, she left the cabin.
Now was th
e most difficult time, because if she was spotted there was no way that the others would allow her to go down to Thoume alone. She crept along the corridor, ducking into a small utility room as she heard voices and pressing herself against the cleaning utensils as the footsteps went past the door. Just a couple of the crew, off to the mess for dinner. After they’d gone, she slipped out again and continued along the corridor, making her way to the elevators at the end. Luckily, when she got there the pod was empty, so she dashed in and asked the Waiter to take her to the cargo bay levels.
She felt nervous and jittery. Several times she opened the bag on her hip, wondering if she should have put a weapon in there, or some tools at least. But if she were captured, her bag would be taken away, so there was little point. What she needed was something innocuous that she could keep on her, which could double as a tool if necessary…
“Waiter!” she said suddenly, “stop the elevator!”
“Yes, Andi.” The elevator slowed and then stopped. They were halfway through the elevator levels. She passed her hand in front of the elevator sensor and the doors swished open. An idea had formed in her head. The museum was quiet, closed as it was to visitors, and none of the cleaning or security staff were in sight.
Quietly she made her way along the passages to the pre-Coalition Earth exhibits. There she headed for the statues that modelled Old-Time clothing. She had always found the items fascinating—trousers made out of a thick, coarse material known as ‘denim’, indecently short skirts that would have got you removed from the Academy before you could bat an eyelid, and very oddly shaped undergarments that must have been extremely uncomfortable to wear. Quickly she appropriated an item from a female mannequin and then, glancing about her and hoping that Ioto wouldn’t miss it, she returned to the elevator. As it descended into the bottom cube of the ship, she put the item on hurriedly under her clothes, thinking that it might come in useful in her attempts to rescue Deneb.
Andromeda Day and the Black Hole Page 5
