Authors: M.D. Hall
Of all the places to send them, it made no sense to Jon why the Custodians put them here. Emily handed back the brochures. Now it was Jon’s turn to wear a furrowed brow. ‘Why are we here? There are ports a lot closer to TeCorp headquarters.’
‘It makes sense, if you think it through.’
Jon’s face told Emily she would have to explain. ‘The flight time is minutes, wherever we are. What if the Te are able to monitor people, just popping up nearby. There has to be a reason, and it makes sense that being this far out is to stay off their radar.’
He said nothing, and the furrowed brow remained.
‘You’re not convinced,’ she shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter, does it?’ She changed topic. ‘Give me an hour and I can find everything we want. Go and lie down, I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
Before he had a chance to ask the obvious question, she went on. ‘I can hack anything. I know, you hear that from kids everywhere, but I really can,’ she continued. ‘Yes, it’s illegal, but we aren't going to get caught, and even if they did catch us, it’s the least of our problems. I’ll find the precise whereabouts of the President and his aides, their itinerary and where we’ll get to them. We also need a way in, and that’s where the id’s come in.’
All he could say was. ‘Oh, all right then.’
What seemed to be seconds later, he felt his foot being jostled. Opening his eyes, he saw Emily standing at the bottom of the bed, smiling. ‘All done,’ she said. ‘I just need your input.’
For a moment, he had no idea what she was talking about, then it came back to him; he was to look at the screen when she had finished. Hauling himself to the edge of the bed, he rubbed his eyes. ‘I'm only just realising how long I’d been without sleep, and it’s too long.’
‘It’s less than me, so don’t expect sympathy. Now, take a look at the screen.’
He stood up, too quickly, and feeling the pain in his right thigh -
Jane’s
first aid was only temporary - ambled over to the large computer screen where he saw the itinerary Emily had mapped out, as well as the identities they would adopt on arrival. Turning to her, he asked. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘Pretty sure,’ she replied, ‘I don’t think there’s another way in.’
‘How certain are you these plans are accurate?’
The look she returned said it all.
His eyes widened as he began to absorb what was on the screen. If they did not get to the President until the signing ceremony, everything they said and did, would be aired around the world, live! He decided not to tell her how he was feeling, and tried to keep his panic under wraps. Fortunately, the amount of information in front of him, dragged his mind away from this latest revelation.
As Emily scrolled down the screen, the reason behind her new name became clear. ‘Do you think you can carry that off?’ he asked, incredulously.
‘I don’t see why not, there’s a lot more on here, and I’ve committed it to memory.’
‘But,’ he protested, ‘they’ll make checks.’
‘I’ve a feeling our friends have that covered.’
‘I wish I shared your confidence.’
‘What’s your problem?’ she asked. ‘They got us here, didn’t they? I don’t think they’ll be stumped by a bit of computer hacking. Anyway, we’ll find out soon enough, if the id’s don’t get us on the flight.’
‘Okay,’ was his only reply, and with that, an envelope instantly appeared next to the monitor. Instinctively he looked around, no one was there. ‘Not bad,’ said Emily.
He carefully opened the envelope, removed the contents and was not in the least surprised to find perfect replicas of real passports and driving licences, in their assumed names, as well as credit cards and a sizeable amount of cash, not forgetting their tickets - return, to avoid suspicion. Emily prodded him in the shoulder and looked beyond him, to the bed.
What greeted him, when he turned, were two flight bags that certainly were not there when he got off the bed. They walked over, but before he had a chance to pick up a bag, Emily beat him to it. Unzipping both bags, she looked inside one of them and sighing, dumped the contents in front of him. She then carefully removed the contents of the second bag. From what he could see it was a complete change of clothes. ‘They’re just new versions of what you’re wearing!’ he said.
‘
So
, what if they’re not big on imagination,’ she held up the T shirt and looked at it with unfeigned enthusiasm. ‘I’d almost forgotten what the pattern was.’ She rummaged through the rest of the contents, finding toiletries and new baseball boots then, just as carefully, replaced the items in the bag.
As he became aware of an emerging pattern, Jon had no problem resisting the temptation to follow suit. The clothes amounted to black chinos, a light blue shirt and a navy blue linen jacket, rounded off with dark blue socks and black casual lace-ups, all brand new, but identical copies of clothes he had at home. He told Emily who just laughed. ‘I’d have said they were just having some fun at our expense, but you’ve seen them, I think they’ve forgotten what fun is.’
Jon looked in the small hotel refrigerator. ‘There’s food in here, and I don’t think it’s been put there by the hotel management.’
‘Why’s that?’ asked Emily.
‘Because there aren’t any tiny bottles of spirit, or cans of beer!’ he replied.
As soon as they had finished eating, Emily said. ‘I’d better cover our tracks. We don’t want anyone digging around in that computer after we've gone. You can go into the bathroom and get changed, I’ll change in here, and tell you when you can come back in.’
‘Will you be able to erase what you’ve done?’ asked Jon.
‘Not completely, but enough to confuse any nosey parkers, or police.’ She stood up and walked towards the computer, which promptly vanished. Emily looked up at the ceiling. ‘Pretty neat,’ she said in genuine surprise, followed by, ‘I’d like some noise cancelling phones for my mp3 player,’ nothing happened. ‘Oh well, nothing ventured…’ She turned back to Jon. ‘What did you think of that, cool or what?’
‘I think,’ he replied, ‘that this signals the last help we can expect. We’re on our own now.’
‘Then the sooner we’re on our way, the better.’
Twenty minutes later, the two mismatched companions had checked out. With no need for luggage - they left the bags containing their old clothes in lockers at the hotel spa - they made their way across the underground mezzanine connecting the hotel to the anti-grav port. Despite the ports being bought out by TeCorp, the hotels and other support facilities were owned and run by independent companies. This had been a decision of Hugo Black, who believed that to monopolise was to alienate. He took the view - and in this his Te’an patrons acquiesced - that it was unnecessary to be all-powerful, to be powerful enough was sufficient.
They walked into the Anti-Gravity Ship Port, to use its full name, people were already using the acronym, AGP, which was to be expected, as they already called the craft AGs. Attempts had been made to, more properly, insert the letter S, but without success, AGSP simply defeated the object of the abbreviation.
Jon showed their prepaid tickets, and they were on their way to the boarding lounge.
In the short time since the ascension of TeCorp to the foremost economic and industrial power on the planet, a number of changes, some of them subtle, had taken place around the world. Without any real fuss, new AGPs had been built all over the world to facilitate the new means of transport. The advantage, in terms of space was clear, there was no need for runways. As for the ships, they did not use fossil fuels, and the energy waves emanating from the drives presented no possible danger to plants, or animals. Within weeks of their introduction, they were adopted as the preferred method of air transportation; within months, in most countries,
only
was substituted for
preferred.
The speed of assimilation was phenomenal.
This port was a prime example. In less than three days a facility was built, consigning discomfort, queuing and delays to history. No one wanted a return to the ‘bad old days.’ Of course, even well oiled machines could demonstrate glitches, resulting in the occasional ‘historic flight’, as experienced by Nathalie. But such occurrences were exceedingly rare, and never a result of technical failures, even TeCorp had administrative hiccups!
Jon had never seen an anti-grav ship up close. Despite being separated by plate glass, it was remarkable. The skin, which he had thought was just silver, was actually a lustrous, shimmering blue-silver, as if there was a layer of oil across its surface. When the Sun’s rays were momentarily obstructed by a passing cloud, the ship brightened, so maintaining its appearance. He had no idea why this happened, but the visual effect while subtle, was stunning, and the overall impression enhanced by the craft floating, motionless above the ground.
‘Wow!’ Turning towards the sound, he saw Emily, her eyes wide with wonder. ‘Hard to believe monsters could make something like that!’
‘I'm not sure you should be saying that around here,’ he said softly, while at the same time, moving them away from curious eyes, and ears. The other passengers were a mishmash, some dressed in business suits, others clearly sightseers, there were even some schoolchildren. That was what made the scene so odd, for as check-in was taking place individually, at passengers’ seats, he could see nothing more cumbersome than briefcases and flight bags. Most of these people would be back home by early evening.
The two of them were the only ones standing. A softly spoken, female voice, using their new names of James and Rachel, asked them to take a seat so that the boarding process could be completed. The seats had been arrayed to look out at the waiting craft, and were set in amphitheatre semi-circular style, the rows sufficiently distant from each other to allow easy access.
As he sat down, he looked along the row of seats, and saw a latecomer settle himself only three seats away. Watching, in mute fascination, he saw the man’s bag hover momentarily above the table to the right of his seat, before disappearing. Emily turned to him. ‘Where d’you think the bag went?’ she asked in a loud whisper. ‘Teleported?
‘Must have,’ he replied.
‘Now it all makes sense, we’re selling our souls for a speedy check-in service!’ He gave her a warning look, which spoke volumes. For all they knew, every conversation in the lounge was being monitored.
She took the hint.
The disembodied voice suggested he activate the stress relieving features of his seat, simply by sitting back. Complying, he immediately noticed how the seat adjusted itself to his body, then firmed up support in areas around his shoulders, lower back and right thigh. An almost imperceptible pulsing in those areas, instantly provided a feeling of relaxation. The pain in his thigh subsided to a dull ache, then faded away completely. He was unaware of any pre-existing problem with either his lower back or shoulders, but the seat appeared to have discerned his physiology, and determined where he needed manipulation,
most impressive!
he thought.
The voice again. ‘You will soon be teleported to your seat. If you have changed your mind, and do not wish to board, please speak now.’ There was a short pause, during which he began to panic; other than the Custodians moving him around, he had no experience of teleportation. Nathalie had said there was nothing to it, and she should know, but it still filled him with trepidation. Not that it made any difference, there was no way back. The voice brought the message to an end. ‘Enjoy your flight, James,’ no doubt Emily’s seat would be addressing her separately.
Without any sensation of movement, he found himself sitting in an identical seat, but not in an identical place. He took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. It was his first time inside an anti-grav ship; there were no windows and, just like all the aircraft he had travelled in, the walls merged into the roof, only without the distraction of overhead lockers. The unbroken curve was a relaxing shade of sky blue while the floor matched the shade of the grass, outside. It had the appearance of being hard, but was actually soft and yielding underfoot. Pressing his foot down, the sensation was like being on a soft, luxurious deep pile carpet, yet when he moved his foot, no indentations remained.
The individual seats were the colour of mahogany and formed rows four abreast, two either side of a walkway easily wide enough to accommodate three people, side by side. To the left or right of each seat, depending on whether the passenger was port side or starboard, was a cabinet.
Jon’s seat did not form itself to his body, as its predecessor in the lounge had done, there was no need, the settings were already identical. The same voice addressed him again: ‘Hello James, welcome on board. I see that you are new to anti-gravity flight, I can tell you that it is quite unlike anything you have experienced before. Throughout our short journey, I will be on hand to assist, should you require it, and with your permission I shall now explain some matters that may improve your comfort, and well-being.
‘Waving your hand over the blue square set into the cabinet will call up an interactive image which, by default, provides a pilot's eye view of your journey, but in addition, the means to obtain information and services while on board. For example, touching the round, yellow button on the projected image in front of you, will produce a choice of food and drink, and activate a table, emerging from the cabinet. When you touch the green triangular button, the unused food…’
The voice continued for another minute with simple instructions, ending with, ‘You can, by simply speaking the request, seek medical assistance although, be assured, I will be monitoring your vital functions and, in the unlikely event it proves necessary, activate the medical response unit. Any information you might require concerning your destination can be accessed by the spoken command: ‘Destination.’ Finally, there are eight toilets at the back of the craft…’
Thank goodness,
he thought, as it explained the final protocols,
the cabinet doesn’t deal with that!