Judy ran a hand absently through her hair, pushing the short brown stuff back from her forehead. She stared back at him for a moment, deep in thought, her bright blue eyes penetrating, so it would seem, to the back of his skull.
“It can’t be chemical,” she began finally. “It wouldn’t scare people enough to keep them away. It needs to be something that will make people more than willing to leave when the soldiers tell them to.”
“Something horrific, huh?” Leroy prompted.
“Like a mutated alligator livin’ in the sewers,” suggested Eric, only half jokingly.
Judy indicated her disgust with a quiet ‘harrumph’.
“Nah, that would be one for the environmentalists to latch onto ... they’d probably start a campaign to save the ‘gator’, then sue the government for polluting the water system.” Leroy responded to Eric’s idea, grinning broadly. “The government wouldn’t like that.”
“Cut it out, you guys,” Judy began, in exasperation. “I’m trying to th–”
“What if it was a very old one?” Eric persisted. “You couldn’t blame the government for one that got mutated a long time ago.”
“That’s it!” Judy thumped her right fist down on her knee so hard she had to stifle a groan. “I’ll write up a press release on my computer and have it ready for you to use before you’ve finished the arrangements for Amber’s flight,” she declared, challenging Fraser.
“You mean you’re really going to say that there’s a fifty foot ‘croc.’ in the drains?” Eric murmured, astounded. Once he realized that Judy was ignoring him, he sagged down until it appeared that he would fall out of his borrowed chair.
“No, you idiot!” Leroy responded, using his quietest tones, and lobbing an imaginary grenade at Eric before returning to check over his equipment in preparation for contacting his counterparts in the USAF. “She’s taken your crackpot idea and turned it into something serious; something people will believe.” He sat in the spare chair next to Eric, put his headset on, winked at him, and, leaning towards him, continued at an even lower volume: “What did you expect?”
Eric raised his eyebrows twice, reached up in slow motion to catch the ‘grenade’, and mimed an explosion that miraculously restored his rather sloppy pose to one of almost reverent attention to his temporary duties.
Leroy glanced back at Brisson, already engrossed (to nearly the same degree of concentration) in the production of her press release, and completely oblivious to both of them once more.
“Maybe the aliens are more human than...” He left the ending unfinished, but Eric caught the idea easily enough, and chuckled softly as he settled down to watch the monitors, relaxing out of his extreme caricature into a more comfortable position.
***
Amber pirouetted, waving her arms up and down like a fourth-rate ballerina; then she threw her arms around her uncle’s neck and hugged him fiercely.
“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. Letting go, she stepped back a little and continued in a more normal tone, fingering the pure wool lining of her new leather jacket lovingly. “This is great!”
He took her hand and led her away from the store, leaving the ever-unobtrusive agent to wind up the formalities of the purchase.
“Remember not to mention the name of this town,” he warned her again. “Not even to your parents.” He paused, then decided that she would be more likely to comply with his directive if she could understand the reason for the secrecy. “I have to warn you now that the town will be evacuated tomorrow morning. The news will say that there has been some kind of accident, or disaster. Your parents would be unnecessarily scared if they knew that you had been here.”
Amber looked worried. “Will you be safe?”
“Yes... for the very good reason that I’ll be the one making the announcement. It’s just a cover story to make it possible for my team to take a closer look at Citadel without anyone knowing.” He looked at her closely. “Okay?”
She nodded, relieved.
A faint beep came from Baynes’ back pocket. He pulled out his ‘com.’ unit and acknowledged the inquiry. “Ace receiving.”
“‘Air Force One’ for Princess Amber now waiting on runway seven five.” Fraser’s voice came through clearly, though with reduced base. “Her ‘usual’ air chauffeur is standing by. Oh, and the ‘driver’ says: ‘smoke gets in his eyes’.”
“Understood, Com-Centre.” Ed smiled at Amber as he saw her eyes widen with delight at the prospect of meeting her ‘flying ace hero’ once more.
“Pick-up should be standing by within visual,” Fraser continued briskly. “Please confirm.”
Ed looked around in time to see an agent pulling up in a dark grey sedan on the other side of the street. Smoke’s face appeared in the side window, behind the driver.
“We have it, Com-Centre,” Baynes advised shortly. He squeezed Amber’s hand and pushed her gently out into the street, towards her escort.
Amber ran across to the car and opened the door behind the driver. She climbed in, was greeted by Smoke with great enthusiasm, and waved to her uncle as the undercover agent pulled away from the curb with a slight squeal of rubber.
Ed watched for a moment as the car stopped at the corner of Main Street, and then disappeared out of sight. He shook his head, chuckling softly to himself, and started to walk back to his observation truck, his thoughts turning back to the investigation, and the still-mysterious Citadel. Amber’s simplistic approach to life made a part of him yearn for the long-past days of his youth.
If only life were always that simple.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The ultimate levels of uninterestedness: tedium, monotony and lassitude – Penchetan
Soon after ten o’clock, Richard and Karen had completed their extensive preparations and were ready to leave Citadel. They had considered a variety of plans, most of which they had almost immediately discounted as being untenable, before finally settling on the necessity of stealing a vehicle in which to travel to Springfield, Massachusetts. Both of them had felt reluctant to start their trip with such an act, but much like the seemingly seditious destruction of the school, they felt that there was no alternative, if they were to have any chance of success. They justified their intended action by reassuring themselves that they were only motivated by their desire to protect all of the inhabitants of Earth from the secret powers of Citadel. Neither of them liked to consider the possibility that the decision would prove to be unwise, or at least ineffective, much as the burning of the school had turned out to be.
The initial plan was for Tutor to provide directions, though they were taking maps of the area around Redcliff and Springfield, and of the roads in between, with them as a backup. Tutor had generated these maps from information gleaned during the search of the computer network made available through the telephone connection created earlier, and printed them on sheets which had been folded and put in their coverall pockets. In fact, much of Man’s technology was now resident in the temporary memory of Citadel where Tutor resided, and where Sheldrif’s second creative masterpiece had reviewed, collated and organised the data stretching back to Scout Craft Seven’s departure from Arshonna, and had integrated it with the Earthly knowledge that was so essential for their plan.
In addition, Richard was carefully carrying a heavy, dark grey object a little smaller than a shoebox. This rather plain-looking metallic box was key to their plan, and would enable them to adjust to changing situations as they travelled. Tutor had combined available technology from both civilizations to design and produce this masterpiece; it would allow for uninterrupted communication between Tutor and the two of them, ensuring that any developments in the vicinity of Citadel could be related to them by Tutor, no matter where they were, or what they were doing, and everything visible from the box would also be known by Tutor.
More importantly, at least to Richard, was the fact that the small, rather innocuous object also packed a sophisticated laser powerful enough to
drill dime-sized holes through almost any man-made substance in moments. It gave him some sense of confidence to know that he could at least attempt to defend Karen, if the worst came to the worst, and they ran into real difficulties with those who were observing her home.
Karen had determined quite early in the day that the only ‘fixed’ observers near Citadel were the ones inside the supposed removals truck. As night closed in, the walkers became less frequent, until finally she picked up from the last one that he was anticipating a good night’s sleep, from which she inferred that he was not going to return until the morning. After that, she had been busy for most of the evening, concentrating on ‘reaching’ the occupants of the observation vehicle, a process made slightly more difficult by the fact that she could not see them, and in fact had only seen one of them – Ed – when he had attempted to walk away from the far side of the truck without being noticed, and later had returned the same way. After a very brief but intense period she had determined that there were three more of them; then, a little later, she had discovered that two of them had gone to sleep at last, presumably while the other two stayed on watch. Finally she stretched out again, making her link even firmer, ‘connected’ herself to the most active mind in the innocent-looking removals truck – the only one that she could identify with a physical body – and let go with the most powerful thoughts of ‘disinterest’ that she could muster.
Ed Baynes stared in the direction of the six Citadel monitors and saw the same scenes that he had been watching for hours. The ‘graininess’ of the images, which before he had found very clear, seemed intensely difficult to concentrate on. He rubbed his eyes to obtain some relief from the itchiness, and blinked furiously to clear them again. It did not seem to help. He glanced at the smaller security monitors that showed the views around the truck, and found the same effect.
I’ll just close my eyes for a moment to relieve the strain; perhaps they’ll focus better after a brief rest. He yawned and leaned his head on his arms, resting against the desk in front of him. In an instant, the effects of the previous, almost ninety hours without any real sleep other than the occasional half-hours of cat-napping, caught up with him, and he was gone.
Eric glanced down the length of the truck towards the rear, a slight motion from that end having caught his eye. He could see that the NUIT leader had slumped forwards! Standard practice required him to monitor the equipment and wake the ‘off-shift’ at the least sign of action. More pertinent to this situation was that fact that each member of the watch team was also required to ensure that his partner stayed awake.
What’s the boss doing? Testing me? Suddenly, it did not seem to matter. Eric stretched and settled back in his chair, resting his head on the high seat back. I’ll check on him in a minute.
Richard looked anxiously at Karen as she stared off at some undefined point in the far distance, unrelated to the bright stars overhead in the Moss Room. Beads of perspiration had formed on her forehead, and her skin had taken on a grey pallor almost as dark as her eyes. He waved his hand in front of her nose, but there was no reaction. He contemplated shaking her, to try to awaken her from this trance-like state.
Suddenly she shivered and looked up at him, taking a deep breath as her eyes focused on his face and took on a faint but discernible blue tinge once more.
“They are all asleep now. Let’s go, quickly.” She started to move towards the exit.
Richard grabbed the dark grey unit from the resting place he had created for it against the mossy wall, cradling it against his side, and steadied her when she stumbled, taking hold of her nearest hand with his other hand as they shimmered out of Citadel. He felt suddenly weak, as she subconsciously drew strength from his mind and body.
“Tutor?” Richard whispered, as he looked around nervously in the gloom behind the bushes.
“I am receiving you.”
“Any alarms sounding in the truck?”
“Negative, no detectable change in the electronic and electrical status of the equipment presently in operation. It would appear that there is no motion-detector in use.”
“I guess the people are supposed to do that. They probably don’t make a habit of falling asleep on duty.” Richard smiled, his level of tension reducing fractionally with the news that they had succeeded in their first step. He slipped his hand under Karen’s elbow and supported her as they walked towards the fence. Then he whispered: “Tutor, don’t forget to lock the door!”
“Already done,” was the quiet response.
Richard helped Karen – still a little exhausted – over the old fence, and felt his own energy rebounding a little after his short booster donation to her a few moments earlier. A hundred yards ahead, the truck lurked like a mechanical mountain lion, waiting to pounce. This is the worst part. Richard tried to maintain a semblance of serenity as the big vehicle loomed closer. I should have insisted we go back up the hill through the woods.
Karen smiled up at him as he looked down to check on her recovery from the arduous process of influencing the minds of others into a state of sleep against their better judgement, and that from a distance of over a tenth of a kilometre. Don’t worry! She projected her thought at him as strongly as she could. We’ll get past them just fine, and this way we’ll be sure to be out of the area before they wake up.
Richard tried to accept her reassurance, but his heart pounded as they walked slowly alongside the vehicle containing the four sleepers; he could have reached out and rapped on the side – in fact, he had a strange compulsion to do just that, but resisted – they passed that close to the sheet-metal panels. Not until they were safely beyond the supposed removals truck and starting down Daniel Street towards the centre of town did he really believe they would make it. Karen leaned against him as they walked, still recovering her strength. Soon the bend in the road hid the truck from their sight, and Richard started to smile.
“You really did it!” he exclaimed softly.
Karen did a mental search behind her and confirmed that all were still sleeping peacefully, then she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
Like many small towns, Redcliff was as quiet as a tomb after ten, so they were not surprised that they saw no one on their walk down Harbor View towards their proposed, but unwitting, transportation supplier.
As they approached the turn into Main Street, however, Karen stopped abruptly.
“There’s somebody standing in the entrance to a store just across the street from the used-car lot.”
“Just one?”
Karen did not respond. Instead, her eyes took on that ‘far away’ look once again.
“He’s gone to check out something much more interesting, further down the street,” Karen announced with a sigh.
Richard checked her pulse against his watch and found it was around one hundred and eighty. He felt his energy draining rapidly across to her as he did so. There had better not be any more for Karen to ‘disinterest’; I don’t know how much more she can stand.
“Let’s get over to the used-car lot right away; I’m sure we’ll find something just right. Then you can sleep while I drive.”
Karen swayed as he moved off, so he held her around the waist to support her, and once again he felt energy flooding out of him to sustain her as she put her hand over his where it rested on her hip. Together they made their way around the corner and down to the motley selection of vehicles displayed under the harsh light of an old, solitary blue-white mercury vapour lamp.
“Keep an eye out for anything,” he urged Karen vaguely as he released her, checking that she could support herself before he stepped away; then he cupped his hands against the window of the first vehicle and tried to focus on the interior details.
Karen belatedly nodded her understanding of his request and leaned back against the hood of the car, her eyes barely open.
Richard could see that the vinyl seat covering was split, and the padding inside was so thin that he could see metal glinting beneath it. He move
d on to the second vehicle, a ‘later model’ hatch-back. He looked at the sign on the windshield. Nine thousand less a dollar - what a rip-off! The front seat was a bench, and was fabric-covered, and still whole.
“Tutor,” he whispered. “How do I get inside?”
“Just hold the unit about a foot from the door.”
The miniature remote audio device in his ear made the voice of Karen’s childhood helper sound as if it were coming from a place just above and to the left of his head, almost like a disembodied spirit.
“Keep still!” Tutor urged.
The sudden flash of light had made him jerk the box backwards; he managed to calm his nerves and hold the powerful weapon stationary as several more bolts of laser energy hit the lock. Finally, Tutor told him to try the door.
It opened easily as he touched it somewhat tentatively; the handle was still cool to the touch. He put Tutor’s creation on the dashboard as he sat down.
“Okay, get in!” Richard leaned across the bench seat and pulled up the locking mechanism on the other door. He got out and ran around when he saw that Karen was not moving, and helped her back onto her feet and over to the door. As Karen sank gratefully into the padded surface, Richard noticed the gear lever gleaming dimly in the light of the dingy interior lamp mounted above it. “Rats! It’s a standard!” he fumed.
Karen turned and looked up at him, a hint of confusion on her weary face.
“I started taking lessons just before the accident; I guess learning wasn’t ever that important to me. My third lesson was to have been the day after Colin’s birthday, but...” And I never drove a standard, he finished silently. He closed the door as quietly as he could, walked back to the driver’s side and climbed in. A hush descended on the small car and its occupants for a while, then Richard reached out to find the ignition. “Tutor... how do I start it??”
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