Chasing Stars Page 12

  ‘Do you have news?’ I asked.

  ‘The trial is set for Tuesday. An official announcement is about to be made. I wanted you to hear it first.’

  ‘Tuesday,’ I said.

  Three days and Ryan could be free.

  ‘Orion’s lawyer would like to meet you this morning. He will talk you through what will happen in the court and discuss your testimony.’

  ‘Where do I need to go?’

  ‘My driver is waiting for you outside. He will bring you to my apartment at the Institute.’

  The admiral disconnected the call.

  I checked my reflection in the mirror. As I thought – bags under my bloodshot eyes and hair matted and tangled from hours spent tucked inside a wig. Admiral Westland was going to think I was a slob. What I really wanted was time to shower and do my hair and try on a few of my new outfits to see which made the right impression. But Westland’s car was waiting for me and what really mattered was speaking to Ryan’s lawyer and getting my testimony right.

  I found a dress with a high neckline, tied my hair back into a ponytail and dabbed some concealer under my eyes. It would have to do.

  When we reached the Institute, the driver pulled round to a side entrance and stopped by the front door. I reached for the handle to let myself out, but there wasn’t one. The driver, who was dressed in a black suit and white gloves, opened his door and came back to open mine for me. His face was flushed and beads of sweat glistened on his upper lip.

  ‘Ma’am,’ he said. ‘I will collect you after lunch.’

  I nodded and walked up to the front door.

  Admiral Westland was waiting for me just inside the lobby. He nodded at the doorman. ‘Come inside,’ he said to me. ‘Saul White, Ryan’s lawyer, is waiting in my study. He’ll just want to hear your story, so there won’t be any surprises on Tuesday.’

  We took the lift up to the next floor. It opened on to a wide hallway, lined with framed photos. I stopped when I saw a photo of Ryan in a school uniform, grinning at the camera. He looked about thirteen. There was another one of him holding a trophy. One of him and two other boys, all dressed in identical school uniform.

  ‘My sons,’ said Admiral Westland.

  I followed Westland along the hallway to the last door on the left. Inside was a bright, book-lined room with a long conference table in the middle. Sitting at one end of the table – like the head of a family at a dinner party – was a man in a grey suit. He stood up as I walked in.

  ‘A pleasure to meet you, Eden,’ he said, pumping my hand up and down enthusiastically. ‘I’m Saul White, Orion’s defence attorney. Sit down.’

  I sat down in one of the chairs near him. A crystal decanter and four crystal glasses on a silver tray were placed in the middle of the table. Above, an old-fashioned ceiling fan sliced through the warm air, whirring like a slow helicopter.

  ‘Mr White, do you think the court will find Ryan innocent?’ I asked, my insides twisting.

  ‘Please, call me Saul,’ he said. ‘I believe we have a very strong case. There is an old protocol – dating back to the earliest years of time travel – that states that in an exceptional circumstance a clean-up will not occur. The protocol says that a participant must have had an “unusual and vital contribution to a mission”. My job is to prove to the court that you played an unusual and vital contribution.’

  ‘Can we do that?’

  He smiled warmly. ‘I certainly hope so. Tell me your story.’

  Two hours later, after telling Saul the story about my best friend Connor discovering a planet that was the catalyst for Earth’s destruction, about Ryan’s mission to prevent that discovery, and my part in keeping Connor away from the telescope he was destined to use that fateful night, Mrs Westland came into the study to ask if we were ready for lunch.

  Saul had taken copious notes, coached me in how to answer his questions and talked me through Time Court protocol. My head was aching with information and my throat dry from talking.

  The dining room was large, with an entire wall of glass so clear that at first I thought there was nothing between us and the world outside. Beyond the glass a silver lake glimmered, its edges blackened from the shadows cast by the deep forest that reached to the horizon.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, staring through the glass.

  ‘The apartment comes with the job,’ said Admiral Westland. ‘We don’t usually spend a lot of time here; we have a home just out of town. But this week, we’ve stayed here a lot. Closer to Orion.’

  That explained the feel of the place. It was too clean and tidy. Beautiful, expensive-looking furniture, but all styled like a show home photographed in one of those dream home magazines Miranda sometimes read. Apart from the family photos, there wasn’t much personal stuff lying around.

  Mrs Westland came into the room with two men who I guessed were in their early twenties. Immediately I recognised them from Ryan’s photos.

  ‘Sit anywhere,’ she said.

  The table was set for six. I took one of the end places.

  ‘Let me introduce everyone before we eat,’ said Mrs Westland. ‘These are my sons. This is Jem.’ She gestured towards the taller of the boys. ‘And this is Jove.’ The two boys shook hands with me and Saul. They both had the same brown eyes and hair as Ryan, although Jem was taller and Jove was stockier.

  ‘This is Saul White, Orion’s lawyer,’ Mrs Westland continued. ‘And this is Eden Anfield, the girl . . .’ She seemed to run out of words.

  I could feel everyone looking at me.

  ‘The girl from 2012,’ said Saul. ‘The girl who is Orion’s best chance of a not-guilty verdict.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Westland. ‘The girl from 2012.’

  Two women came in then, with platters of food. There was a silver tureen of cold green soup, a plate of rice cakes, pieces of meat in spiral shapes that reminded me of worms, squares of toast no bigger than postage stamps, platters of berries and a bowl of salad. One of the women began serving the green soup.

  ‘So does Ry have a good case?’ asked Jem, the older of the two brothers.

  Saul reached for the rice cakes. ‘We will be arguing that Orion invoked the Clemency Protocol. It’s an old protocol, from way back when time travel was first invented. It’s only ever been used in a time trial once before.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Jem. ‘I’ve never come across it in my studies.’

  ‘It allows clemency for a civilian who would otherwise need to be cleaned up,’ said Saul. ‘It can only be used when that civilian has made an important contribution to a time mission.’

  ‘Eden made an important contribution?’ asked Jove. I caught him looking at me sceptically.

  ‘She certainly did,’ said Saul. ‘She succeeded where your brother and the other time agents failed. She is the only reason their mission was a success.’

  ‘So it’s an open and shut case?’ said Jove.

  Saul sighed. ‘Nothing is ever as simple as that. However, I believe we have a strong chance of success. It will be very difficult for the Court to deny that Eden made an unusual and vital contribution.’

  Jem frowned. ‘So where’s the element of doubt?’

  Saul took a sip of water. ‘Law is open to interpretation. It is my judgement that Eden’s rescue falls clearly within the remit of the Clemency Protocol. However, if the court believed that Orion travelled back to 2012 for reasons other than clemency, they could disregard the protocol.’

  ‘You mean, if Ry travelled back because he was in love with her or something,’ said Jove, throwing a quick glance in my direction.

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Was he in love with you?’ asked Mrs Westland.

  My spoon slipped out of my fingers. It clanged against the side of my soup bowl. ‘He came back to save my life.’

  She held my gaze a second longer before turning away.

  ‘The prosecution will try to argue that Orion went back for love rather than duty,’ said Saul. ‘Which reminds me �
� make sure you’re dressed in a suit, Eden. Tie your hair back. It’s important to make the right impression.’

  ‘I’ll have a suit sent to you,’ said Admiral Westland. ‘It will save you having to deal with reporters following you around the stores.’

  ‘How’s Ry coping?’ asked Jem.

  Admiral Westland’s face tightened. ‘He’s putting on a brave face.’

  ‘It’s the media speculation,’ said Mrs Westland. ‘I’ve told Ry not to watch the news, but he insists on watching it. All this talk about the lunar colony. Of course he’s scared.’

  ‘They won’t send him there,’ said Jove. ‘That place is reserved for terrorists and murderers. He’s not exactly in the same category.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling him,’ said Mrs Westland. ‘He’s just a boy. He should never have accepted that mission in the first place. He hadn’t completed his training. He was too immature. Too impulsive.’ Her eyes brushed across me. ‘He has too strong a sense of duty.’

  ‘All things I will be saying at the trial,’ said Saul.

  ‘Can I see him?’ I asked.

  ‘That won’t be possible,’ said Mrs Westland. ‘Ry is only allowed one thirty-minute visit a day, apart from time with his lawyer. Jem and Jove have both flown in from Greenland today to see him.’

  I nodded. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I think we can spare ten minutes of our time,’ said Jem. ‘If Ry finds out we stopped him seeing Eden today, he’ll kill us.’

  Ryan was dressed in a green long-sleeved T-shirt and grey trousers, each marked with the Institute logo, the elongated clock with the distorted numbers. The clothes were too baggy on him; they hung off his body, making him seem thin and underfed.

  He stood up from the table and pushed his hair from his eyes. ‘Eden.’

  I crossed the space between us in seconds and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him tightly towards me. He smelt different and the same all at once. Different soap maybe, different clothes, but the same clean boy smell of his skin.

  ‘No physical contact,’ said the guard.

  For a moment we ignored him. Ryan bent his head down and let his lips brush lightly against mine.

  ‘I said no contact,’ said the guard. ‘Unless you’re looking for a full body search, Westland.’

  I dropped my arms to my sides, but we remained standing in front of one another, as close as it was possible to be without touching. My skin prickled with the desire to close the gap between us, to feel skin against skin.

  ‘Opposite sides of the table,’ said the guard. ‘Sit down. Hands where I can see them.’

  We did as he said, our hands side by side on the table, just a hair’s breadth apart.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said.

  ‘I tried to see you before, but they wouldn’t let me,’ I said.

  ‘I’m hardly allowed any visiting time. Most of my days have been taken up with my lawyer.’

  ‘Saul seems great,’ I said. ‘He was telling me about the Clemency Protocol.’

  He looked up, hope shining from his eyes. ‘I’m feeling good about this, Eden. No one can argue that you weren’t important. Hell, if you hadn’t been there, Earth would be dying. I’d say that’s a pretty vital role.’

  ‘It’s going to be fine. In three days you’ll be out of here.’

  He smiled. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You should get your hair cut before the trial,’ I said. I liked the way it looked, but it was kind of scruffy. Without anything to style it, his fringe fell into his eyes.

  ‘Don’t worry. My mom has arranged for a haircut and a smart suit and all that stuff.’

  We just stared at each other for a moment, smiling.

  ‘How are you coping?’ he said. ‘Have you been OK? I saw all those photographers following you on the news.’

  ‘Ugh,’ I said with a shrug. ‘It’s no big deal.’

  ‘I see you found Pegasus.’

  ‘Pegasus found me. He rescued me from my hotel room and took me up to the mountains.’

  Ryan flicked his hair out of his eyes. ‘I can’t wait to be out of here so I can show you around myself.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Have you met anyone else yet?’

  ‘Peg took me out last night. I met some of your friends.’

  ‘I saw you guys on the com-screen when you were leaving the bar. Are you OK? Did you get hurt?’

  ‘Everything was fine. I’m fine.’

  He lifted one of his hands from the table and chewed at the skin on the side of his thumb. ‘You didn’t go back to the hotel last night?’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much TV.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Peg offered me his spare room. It was easier than dealing with the reporters outside the hotel.’

  ‘Right.’ He pulled his other hand off the table and on to his lap.

  ‘Hands where I can see them,’ said the guard.

  He put his hands back, but kept them on his side of the table.

  ‘Ryan,’ I said, reaching across, placing my hands as near his as I could reach. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said, meeting my eyes with his. ‘It’s just so hard being locked up here while you guys are out there.’ He slid his hands back across towards mine.

  ‘Time’s up,’ said the guard.

  Chapter 11

  I had no idea what to wear to New York. I looked through my new wardrobe, at the dresses and tops and tight leggings I’d bought. In the end, I chose a long blue top, and a pair of white leggings. I added a white jacket to finish it off, applied some mascara and lipgloss and put my flexi-card into my new bag. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I could imagine myself walking down whatever the main shopping street was in New York. And if my outfit was not quite right? Well, who could expect me to know what the current city fashions were, considering I was from the previous century and a different continent?

  Peg arrived just after breakfast. He lent me a baseball cap to help hide my hair and face, and we sneaked out the back entrance of the hotel. It probably wouldn’t be long before someone tipped off the press that I was using that door, but for today, at least, I wouldn’t be followed.

  Antoine was driving. His car was much bigger than Peg’s with seats for six people: two in the front and four in the back. Belle sat in the front with Antoine; Peg, Lyra and I sat in the back.

  ‘You look very smart,’ said Belle, once we pulled away from the hotel.

  ‘I didn’t know what to wear,’ I said. They were all wearing long T-shirts and shorts. ‘I guess I’m overdressed.’

  ‘There’s no dress code,’ said Belle. ‘You’re fine.’

  Antoine pulled on to a fast road with about ten lanes in each direction. He touched some icons on the dashboard that switched the car over to automatic and then left the car to drive itself. I felt slightly sick. Cars were racing along both sides of us, much too fast, with no one at the helm.

  ‘Don’t computers make mistakes in the twenty-second century?’ I asked.

  Antoine swivelled his chair around so that it faced the interior, his back towards the windscreen. ‘Occasionally.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should face the front then, in case you need to drive manually?’

  They all laughed.

  ‘You can’t drive manually on the expressway,’ said Antoine. ‘It’s not an option. In any case, thousands of computers control the traffic on this road. If one glitches out, the others will compensate.’

  Belle tapped the dashboard and the windows darkened. ‘Now you can’t see the traffic,’ she said.

  The interior of the car felt like a cave. All the seats faced each other. There was a small table that popped up from the floor. Antoine opened a mini-fridge and took out a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Everyone want a glass of fizz?’ he asked.

  ‘Hold on a sec. Let me record this,’ said Lyra. She dragged her port-com out of her bag and aimed it at Antoine. ‘Just be natural.’
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  ‘Yeah, because it’s so easy to act natural in a small space with a port-com under your nose,’ said Belle. ‘Why are you filming?’

  ‘I’m doing an exposé on rich kids in Lakeborough. It’s for my end of year project.’

  Peg smirked. ‘You are a rich kid from Lakeborough, Lyra.’

  ‘Which gives me the perfect in,’ she said. ‘Look, the rest of the world is fascinated by us. They think we’re overprivileged and spoilt. Let’s show the world the truth.’

  ‘But you are overprivileged and spoilt,’ said Peg.

  Lyra sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Who cares? I need a good story for my end of year assignment. It’s the only way I’m going to get sponsored by a major news agency.’

  Antoine shrugged and poured five glasses of champagne into crystal glasses. No one spoke a word.

  ‘For God’s sake, say something,’ said Lyra.

  ‘Maybe you should save the filming for New York,’ said Belle. ‘This is a bit too up close and personal.’

  ‘You’re all so inhibited,’ said Lyra, pushing her port-com back in her bag.

  They talked about school for a while and I just sat back and listened. Lyra was hoping to study journalism at university in a couple of months’ time, but needed to be sponsored by a news agency if she was to get on the advanced program. Antoine and Peg were both cadets at the Lakeborough Space and Time Academy. Belle wanted to study theatre, but her parents were dead set against it.

  ‘What about you, Eden?’ asked Belle.

  I shrugged. ‘Back where I’m from, I’d have two more years of school before I had to choose. Now I’m in the twenty-second century, I’m not even sure what the options are.’

  ‘You should come to the Academy,’ said Antoine. ‘With your experience, you’d fit right in.’

  ‘That’s what I told her,’ said Peg. ‘She’d be brilliant.’

  Lyra widened her eyes. ‘Did you single-handedly fly a time-ship through one hundred and eleven years of time, Eden? I didn’t realise. You see, I thought you just strapped yourself in the back and let a professional fly the ship. I must be mistaken.’

  ‘I just sat in the back,’ I said slowly.