Athelstan Helms saw the reporters staring at him as if he were an extinct honker somehow magically restored to life—as if he were a specimen rather than a man. He coughed modestly. “The good doctor does me too much honor, I fear. In this case, I count myself uncommonly fortunate.”
“Well, what if you are?” a reporter shouted at him, face and voice full of fury. “What if you are, God damn you? What have you just gone and done to Atlantis? Do you count us uncommonly fortunate on account of it? You’ve gone and given that bearded maniac of a Preacher free rein for the rest of his worthless life!”
Another man stood up and yelled, “Hold your blasphemous tongue! God speaks through the Preacher, not through the likes of you!”
Someone else punched the Preacher’s partisan in the nose. In an instant, fresh pandemonium filled the lecture hall. “I think perhaps we should make our exit now,” the detective said.
“Brilliant deduction, Helms!” Walton said, and they did.
Boarding the
Crown of India
for the return voyage came as a distinct relief to Helms and Walton. Behind them, the United States of Atlantis heaved with political passions more French, or even Spanish, than British. The Atlantean authorities also refused to pay the sizable fee La Strada had promised them, and laughed at the signed contract Dr. Walton displayed. Under the circumstances, that was perhaps understandable, but it did not contribute to Walton’s regard for the republic they were quitting.
“A bloody good job you insisted on return tickets paid in advance,” he told Helms. “Otherwise they’d boot us off the pier and let us swim home—and take pot shots at us whilst we were in the water, too.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” Helms said. “Well, let’s repair to our cabin. If the ocean was rough coming here, it’s unlikely to be smoother now.”
Walton sighed. “True enough. I have a tolerably strong stomach, but even so. . . . Where have they put us?”
Helms looked at his ticket. “Suite twenty-seven, it says. Well, that sounds moderately promising, anyhow.”
When they opened the door to Suite 27, however, they found it already occupied by two strikingly attractive young women, one a blonde, the other a brunette. “Oh, dear,” Walton said. “Let me summon a steward. There must be some sort of mistake.”
The young women shook their heads, curls swinging in unison. “You are Mr. Helms and Dr. Walton, aren’t you?” the goldenhaired one said.
“Yes, of course they are,” the brunette said. “I’m Polly, and she’s Kate,” she added, as if that explained everything.
Seeing that perhaps it didn’t, Kate said, “We’re staying in Suite twenty-seven, too, you see. The Preacher made sure we would.”
“I beg your pardon?” Walton spluttered. “The Preacher, you say?”
“You are handmaidens of the Spirit, I presume?” Helms showed more aplomb.
That’s right.” Polly smiled. “He
is
a clever fellow,” she said to Kate.
“But . . . !” Walton remained nonplused. “What are you doing
here
?”
Polly’s expression said he wasn’t such a clever fellow. It vexed him; he’d seen that expression aimed his way too often while in Athelstan Helms’ company. “Well,” Polly said, “the Preacher believes—heavens, everyone knows—the spirit and body are linked. We wouldn’t be
people
if they weren’t.”
“Quite right,” Helms murmured.
“And”—Kate took up the tale again—“the Preacher’s mighty grateful to the two of you for all you did for him. And he thought we might show you
how
grateful he is, like.”
“He’s
mighty
grateful,” Polly affirmed. “All the way to London grateful, he is. We are.”
“Is he? Are you? I say!” Dr. Walton
was
sometimes slow on the uptake, but he’d definitely caught on now. “This could be a jolly interesting voyage home, what?”
Athelstan Helms was hanging the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the suite’s outer door. “Brilliant deduction, Walton,” he said.
(This page constitutes an extension of the copyright page.)
“Aubudon in Atlantis” © 2005 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Analog
, December 2005.
“Bedfellows” © 2005 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction
, June 2005.
“News from the Front” © 2007 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Asimov’s
, June 2007.
“The Catcher in the Rhine” © 2000 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
The Chick Is in the Mail
, ed. Esther Friesner, Baen, 2000.
“The Daimon” © 2002 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Worlds That Weren’t
, ed. Laura Anne Gilman, Roc, 2002.
“Farmers’ Law” © 2000 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Crime Through Time III
, ed. Sharan Newman, Berkley, 2000.
“Occupation Duty” © 2007 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Time Twisters
, ed. Jean Rabe and Martin H. Greenberg, DAW, 2007.
“The Horse of Bronze” © 2004 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
The First Heroes
, ed. Harry Turtledove and Noreen Doyle, Tor, 2004.
“The Genetics Lecture” © 2005 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Analog
, October 2005.
“Someone Is Stealing the Great Throne Rooms of the Galaxy” © 2006 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Space Cadets
, ed. Mike Resnick, L.A. Con IV, 2006.
“Uncle Alf” © 2002 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Alternate Generals II
, ed. Harry Turtledove, Roland Green, and Martin H. Greenberg, Baen, 2002.
“The Scarlet Band” © 2006 by Harry Turtledove. First published in
Analog
, May 2006.