Chasing Stars Read online

  I don’t know why I went there.

  But there I was. Staring at this big wooden house with the white shutters and a complicated roofline of gable ends and turrets that suggested a house that was more than a simple arrangement of rectangular rooms. A million miles from my home.

  Through the trees, I caught a glimpse of a dock, a small red sailing boat moored alongside it. There was so much I didn’t know about Ryan. I didn’t know he lived in a big house, that he went to an expensive school and had friends who went scuba-diving in New York City for the weekend. He had given all of this up to save me, and then given up his freedom as well. He’d given up too much.

  The driveway was semicircular so that any car approaching the house could drive in on one side of the semicircle and out the other without turning around. There was a double garage with a basketball hoop attached to the wall between the two doors. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Ryan and his brothers shooting hoops when they were kids.

  There were no cars parked in the driveway and Admiral Westland had said that he and his family were staying at the Institute to be closer to Ryan, so I risked walking towards the house. The trees rustled either side of me and I could hear the faint slap of water against the dock. This was where Ryan had spent his childhood. Here.

  I walked past the house towards the lake. Three boats were tied up against the dock – a small rowing boat, a sailing boat and a canoe. There were maybe ten other houses bordering the lake that I could see. In the distance was a sailing boat heading back to shore. I could see half a dozen kids whooping and diving off the dock of a neighbouring house.

  ‘Hey!’ a voice yelled from behind me.

  I turned quickly. Jem was running down the steps from the upper level of a deck on the rear of the house.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, embarrassed now at being here uninvited.

  ‘Eden?’ he said.

  I nodded.

  ‘Come on up.’

  I made my way to the upper level of the deck, wondering how I would explain myself.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

  I shrugged. ‘I started walking and just ended up here.’

  ‘Come inside. You look hot. You want some ice water?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He pressed an icon on the fridge and filled a glass with crushed ice and cold water. I took the glass which was cloudy with cold, and held it against my overheated head.

  ‘Did you say goodbye?’ asked Jem.

  ‘I saw him,’ I said. ‘I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t do that.’

  Jem nodded. ‘I couldn’t either.’

  We stared at each other for a few moments and I almost considered asking him to help me rescue Ryan. But then he told me that he had a flight back to Greenland in a couple of hours and needed to finish packing his things.

  ‘I should get back,’ I said. ‘I have friends waiting for me.’

  ‘Do you want to see his room before you go?’

  I nodded.

  Jem led me into a wide hall. ‘His room’s at the end. I’ll drive you back to the hotel just as soon as I’m done packing.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that,’ I said. ‘I can walk.’

  ‘It’s on my way.’

  Jem went into his own room, leaving me at the threshold of Ryan’s room. I pushed the door open.

  There were all the things you expected to see in a bedroom: the bed, the chest of drawers, the built-in closet, the desk. There was a bedside table with a pile of books. The walls were painted blue; Ryan’s sketches were tacked up all over the place. Some of them were of a planet with three suns and two moons. Others were of a small cove I recognised as Penpol Cove. And then there were sketches of me. My hair flowing down my back. My face. My eyes. Just my mouth. My hands holding a shell.

  On his desk were notebooks and leafs of loose paper, covered in scribbles. There were mathematical equations I couldn’t even begin to understand, photos and schematics of ships and time-ships. Dates and timelines. Printouts of fuel grades and prices.

  I moved to the window. It had a perfect view over the dock and the lake. The kids next door were still jumping into the water, shrieking with laughter. A loon called plaintively from out on the lake. The sun was falling behind the treetops. Ryan was going to the moon, but down here life was carrying on.

  Everyone was waiting for me in the lobby of the Lakeview. Peg stood up as soon as he saw me and pulled me close.

  ‘I never really thought this could happen,’ he said into my hair.

  ‘It’s like a bad dream,’ I said. ‘I can’t quite believe that this is it.’

  ‘Where have you been?’ He drew back from me and took in my sunburnt, sweaty appearance. ‘I came here as soon as I heard the verdict. We all did. We were so worried about you.’

  ‘I needed some time to think.’

  ‘Shall we go to your room, Eden?’ asked Antoine, looking around.

  People were starting to stare at us. Even the hotel staff – usually so discreet – were whispering amongst themselves. I nodded and we all made our way to the lift. No one said anything till we got to my room. Once inside, Antoine and Belle took one couch, Lyra and Peg the other. Lyra leant forward and put a bag on the table.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Peg.

  ‘Food. I know we have bad news, but people still need to eat.’

  She lifted her bad leg and slipped it over Peg’s leg until it rested between his thighs. Absently, Peg began running his hand along her calf. I looked away. Today, of all days, I didn’t have the stomach for it.

  ‘Eden, put the com-screen on,’ said Lyra. ‘I heard something downstairs about Ryan’s father.’

  I scanned on the screen. It was still tuned to a news station.

  A tickertape message at the bottom of the screen read Breaking News.

  ‘Extraordinary turn of events,’ the news reporter was saying.

  The crew were standing outside the Institute, but not by the entrance to the Time Court; they were on the other side, where the residences were located.

  ‘Admiral Westland was arrested less than two hours after the court delivered the guilty verdict on his son Orion. He was at his apartment with his wife and one of his sons. It has been alleged that Admiral Westland aided and abetted his son’s time travel by acquiring a time-ship and the necessary fuel for that trip. Travel through time requires immense quantities of top-grade fuel; without the right credentials, it’s almost impossible to get hold of. There had been no reports of break-ins at fuel depots and there is speculation that it was an inside job.

  ‘Of course if Admiral Westland is found guilty, the presidency of the Institute will almost certainly go to Admiral Wolfe. Wolfe and Westland have been at loggerheads ever since Westland introduced a Bill to Parliament that would close the Lunar Facility. Westland’s arrest . . .’

  ‘Turn it off,’ said Antoine. ‘We don’t need to hear this.’

  ‘What was that about?’ I asked. ‘About them being at loggerheads.’

  ‘Westland wants to close down the Lunar Facility,’ said Antoine. ‘He thinks it’s inhumane. Problem is, it’s owned by Wolfe. Wolfe basically gets free labour as the prisoners have to work in the mines. And Wolfe wants to ban time travel. The trouble with that is that Westland makes time-ships, so a ban on time travel would affect his business.’

  ‘It’s all stupid,’ said Belle. ‘Both families are already filthy rich.’

  Lyra stretched noisily. ‘Maybe I should go to the press and tell the truth,’ she said.

  ‘Why?’ asked Peg. ‘How will that help anything now?’

  ‘The whole family has been through so much and now this. We all know Admiral Westland didn’t help Orion get the fuel. We should go public with the whole story.’

  ‘What is the whole story?’ I asked.

  ‘I stole the ship, Lyra,’ said Peg, ignoring me. ‘And helped with the cover-up. You want to see me on the moon with Ry?’

  ‘Of course not. But Admira
l Westland shouldn’t have to take the blame either.’

  ‘They won’t be able to find any evidence against him because he didn’t do it,’ said Antoine.

  I went over to the minibar and poured myself a glass of water from the jug. I was starting to get a headache. Peg joined me.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked quietly. He stood close to me, shoulder to shoulder.

  ‘I’m dehydrated. I have a headache,’ I said, focusing on the things that were simplest to fix.

  ‘Anyone have any painkillers?’ asked Peg.

  ‘I do.’ Belle dug through her handbag until she found a small bottle of blue pills. ‘Two of these and a full glass of water will make you feel better.’

  Nothing would make me feel better, but at least they would deal with the headache.

  Lyra leant forward and unwrapped the bag of food in the middle of the table. ‘I have bread rolls with shredded minis and berries.’

  ‘Bread,’ said Belle, lifting a roll. ‘Good job, Lyra.’

  ‘I know. The beauty editor got engaged today and brought them in for lunch. These are the leftovers.’

  ‘You should try one, Eden,’ said Belle as she split her roll into two. ‘Bread’s amazing.’

  I lifted one of the rolls and turned it over; it looked just like an ordinary bread roll to me.

  ‘Break it in half,’ said Belle. ‘And then fill it with some minis and berries. It’s called a sandwich. It’s real good.’

  ‘What are minis?’

  ‘Mini livestock. You know, ground-up insects and stuff. Lots of protein.’

  I put the roll back on the table. ‘Maybe later. I’m not hungry right now.’

  ‘I’ll get room service to bring us some drinks,’ said Antoine. ‘What’s everyone want?’

  I just wished everyone would leave so I could stop struggling to hold myself together and let the tears flow.

  While the rest of them ate, I stood at the window and watched the pleasure boats out on the lake. Everything I’d done up to now seemed so stupid. I’d trusted that the Time Court would see the truth and Ryan would be freed. I’d spent eleven days in this time-scape hoping Ryan would be acquitted and had done nothing to plan for a disaster like this. I should have done more.

  ‘You really ought to eat something,’ said Peg, appearing by my side.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘I know. But you still should eat something.’

  I let him take my hand and lead me to the table. ‘You want a plain roll or shall I make you a sandwich?’

  ‘As it is,’ I said, taking a bread roll. ‘You know, back in the twenty-first century, bread is just peasant food. Everyone eats it. We toast it for breakfast and we eat sandwiches for lunch all the time, though we usually have peanut butter or cheese, rather than ground-up insects.’

  ‘Oh, isn’t that interesting?’ said Lyra. There was a slight edge to her voice. ‘And in the twenty-second century we don’t hold hands with boys we’re not dating.’

  I looked down at my hand still holding Peg’s and quickly let go.

  Peg flopped down on the couch next to Lyra. ‘You’re just jealous,’ he said. He picked up her bad leg and began massaging her calf again. ‘You want me all to yourself.’

  She pulled a face at him. ‘Do I look that desperate?’

  ‘I’ve missed bread so much,’ I said. ‘This looks great.’ I took a big bite. The bread was soft and still warm. Under different circumstances I would have loved it, but right now it just stuck to the roof of my mouth and made me feel sick. I gulped at my glass of water to wash it down.

  ‘Have you thought about a job, Eden?’ asked Belle.

  ‘Not really. I’ll need to sort out something soon.’

  ‘I could probably get you a job at the theatre if you don’t mind working Front of House.’

  I wasn’t sure where to sit. Peg and Lyra were cuddled up close to one another on one couch and Belle and Antoine were spread out on the other.

  ‘Thank you. I might take you up on that,’ I said, opting to remain standing. ‘A friend of mine also offered me a waitressing job. On the Inter-Planetary Spaceport.’

  They all looked at me.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ asked Antoine. ‘All your friends live here.’

  ‘I probably won’t. It’s just another option.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ asked Peg. ‘You have a job offer on the spaceport? Really?’

  ‘Umm, yeah.’

  ‘Do you know someone there? Do you think you could put in a good word for me? It’s my dream to work on the spaceport.’

  ‘I know the captain. He was the leader on the 2012 mission.’

  ‘You know Benjamin Hansen?’ said Peg. ‘I wrote a paper on him.’

  ‘Calm down, fanboy,’ said Lyra.

  ‘Why don’t you go back to school and finish your high school education?’ said Belle. ‘Lakeborough High is a very good school. You would have more choices if you got your diploma first.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘The colleges in New Hampshire are good as well,’ said Antoine. ‘That’s why none of us are moving away. Peg and I are at the Academy in town. Lyra and Belle are at the university here. Those would both be options for you.’

  ‘You don’t have to rush into a decision,’ said Belle. ‘Why don’t I try and fix you up with a job at the theatre? The sooner you get into a routine, the easier it will be to . . .’ Her words faded away into nothing.

  They’d given up. Every one of them had simply accepted it was over for Ryan.

  ‘We have to do something to help Ryan,’ I said, trying – and failing – not to raise my voice.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ said Lyra.

  ‘When Travis – the cleaner – killed me, Ryan stole a time-ship and travelled through time to save me. He didn’t just give up and settle into a routine to make it easier to forget!’

  ‘And didn’t that plan work out well for the two of you?’

  ‘I’m alive, aren’t I?’ I said, looking at Lyra. ‘He didn’t accept my fate – he worked to change it. He saved my life. I’m not going to let them send him to the moon for the rest of his.’

  ‘Eden,’ said Belle gently. ‘If there was anything we could do, we would. But he’s just been convicted by the highest court in the world. There’s no appeal process. I don’t see what we can do to help him.’

  ‘We have to help him escape,’ I said. ‘Before they send him to the moon.’

  Lyra rolled her eyes. ‘With all due respect, Eden, you have no idea what you’re talking about. This is the Space and Time Institute, not the public library.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible. If Ryan can steal a time-ship and travel back a hundred and eleven years to save me, surely I can find a way to break him out of the Institute.’

  There was a knock on the door. Peg opened it and let room service bring the various drinks to the table. There was beer and wine, as well as mineral water and orange juice. Peg pushed what was left of the bread rolls and fillings to the edge of the table.

  ‘He’s going to be at the Institute until Tuesday,’ I said, once room service had gone. ‘And then he gets transported to the spaceport for twenty-four hours. Then it’s the moon.’

  ‘Even if we did plan something crazy, that doesn’t give us much time,’ said Belle.

  ‘He’s just been convicted of a crime in the Time Court,’ said Antoine. ‘His face is all over com-screens all over the world. Where would he go, even if you did manage to help him escape?’

  ‘We’d find somewhere. That part is easy,’ I said.

  ‘It wouldn’t be easy,’ said Lyra. ‘With retinal scanners and fingerprint locks and port-com security, he’d get picked up.’

  ‘I’m not letting them send him to the moon.’

  ‘You can forget the spaceport and the moon,’ said Belle. ‘You’d never even get close to them. And you can’t just walk into the Institute with a gun and shoot your way to Orion’s cell.’

  ‘I know that,’ I
said. ‘We’d need a plan.’

  ‘There’s no time for a plan,’ said Antoine.

  ‘I’m going to try and rescue him,’ I said. ‘With or without your help.’

  The sandwiches and drinks were reduced to a few crumbs and a tray full of smeared, empty glasses. Belle and Antoine had spent the last ten minutes telling me about the trip they were planning to take to the mountains at the weekend. Peg had said nothing. He just sat on the couch, absently rubbing Lyra’s leg and staring out of the window.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Belle. ‘It would do you good to get away from town.’

  ‘Probably not,’ I said.

  ‘There’s no way we can rescue him from the moon,’ said Peg, lifting Lyra’s leg and placing it on the couch. He stood up. ‘It’s a maximum security prison with no free air to breathe. If we’re gonna have any chance of rescuing Ryan, it’s gonna be the Institute or the spaceport.’

  I felt the tiniest flicker of hope: Peg wanted to help.

  ‘The Institute is the best option,’ Peg continued. ‘For obvious reasons.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘So we’re going to rescue him from the Institute. And we have less than one week to do it. Where do we start?’

  ‘We need a map of the interior,’ said Peg, ‘and a map of the grounds.’

  ‘You can get a satellite image of the grounds,’ said Antoine. ‘The interior is a different matter.’

  ‘Antoine, Belle. Your mother is a test pilot for the Institute. Can’t we use that as a way into the building?’ asked Peg.

  Belle shook her head. ‘Mum has an office at the Institute, but she’s never there. She spends most of her time at the Westland Space Centre.’

  ‘But she does have an office at the Institute. That’s good. I mean, we might be able to use that somehow.’

  ‘I’m not sure how useful it would be,’ said Belle. ‘She only goes to the Institute for meetings and briefings. Her office is just a desk and a few books.’

  ‘Do you know your way round the inside of the Institute?’