Chasing Stars Page 7

  Admiral Westland touched my arm. ‘I need you to say all this in your statement. Make sure they understand why Orion did what he did. There is an old protocol that we might be able to use in Orion’s defence.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Another Guardian is waiting to debrief you. Come along with me.’

  ‘Do I need a lawyer?’ I asked.

  ‘No. You’re not in any trouble. He will just want to ask you a few questions.’

  Admiral Westland escorted me a short distance to a conference room. A tall man with grey hair and a full grey beard met us at the door.

  ‘Thank you, Admiral Westland,’ he said. ‘I’ll take it from here.’

  Westland nodded at me, turned and strode back down the corridor.

  An oblong table sat in the centre of the conference room, with about twenty chairs arranged around it. Lauren was sitting in one of the chairs, her back ramrod straight, her hair and make-up polished and professional. She caught my eye but didn’t smile.

  ‘I hope you haven’t experienced too much discomfort?’ the man asked. ‘The Institute was never designed to hold prisoners, but the prison in New Marseilles is full. Our holding cells are very basic, I’m afraid.’

  I shrugged, more uncomfortable now than I’d been in my cell. There were no windows in the room, but a low hum suggested some sort of climate control. I shivered, wishing I had my hoodie to pull over my T-shirt.

  ‘Take a seat. I won’t be keeping you long.’ He poured a cup of coffee from a selection of drinks on the sideboard and placed it in front of me on the table. ‘Have some coffee. You’re probably very tired.’

  I blew on the steamy drink and took a sip. It was much stronger, more bitter, than any coffee I’d tasted before.

  ‘My name is Admiral Wolfe,’ the man said.

  It was an oddly appropriate name. His greying beard and hair surrounded a pair of green eyes flecked with yellow. Everything about the man – his build, his uniform, the way he moved – suggested power.

  ‘You’ve already met Lauren Thomas,’ said Wolfe. ‘Though you will have known her as Lauren Deckard.’

  I glanced at Lauren. She was a cleaner, a professional assassin. What sort of person chose to make a living that way?

  ‘I am going to need you to make a statement,’ Wolfe continued. ‘When you have done that, you will be free to go.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. I wondered where I would go.

  Admiral Wolfe tapped a thin membrane – some sort of ultra-thin, flexible computer screen on the desk in front of him. ‘Begin recording,’ he said. ‘Mission 2123/2012 Fugitive Recovery. Date: 31st July 2123. Eden Anfield making her statement in the presence of Admiral Titan Wolfe and Agent Lauren Thomas.’ He smiled at me warmly. ‘Now, Eden, begin with the first time you met Orion Westland.’

  ‘He was at my school,’ I said. ‘A new kid. Obviously he was undercover, but I didn’t know that. Part of his mission required him to get to know my best friend.’

  ‘Carry on,’ said Wolfe.

  ‘So he became a part of my circle of friends. But I could tell he was different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He didn’t know things that everybody knows,’ I said. ‘Names of famous people and things like that.’

  Wolfe turned to Lauren. ‘Who was the researcher for that mission?’

  ‘Cassiopeia Wade.’

  ‘Continue,’ Wolfe said to me.

  ‘I didn’t know he had travelled through time of course. I thought lots of other things at first. But then I came across a book that was written and published in the future.’

  The air in the room grew colder. Wolfe looked at Lauren. ‘This suggests some very sloppy work. Criminally so.’ He turned back to me. ‘Did you meet Cassiopeia Wade or Benjamin Hansen?’

  ‘I knew them as Ryan’s father and sister.’

  ‘Where did you find this book?’

  I hesitated. I didn’t want to say anything that might make things worse for Ryan. Or Cassie and Ben – the other agents from the original mission – for that matter. I was going to have to bend the truth.

  ‘I broke into their house. I was looking for answers.’

  Wolfe nodded. ‘And what did you do when you discovered the truth?’

  ‘When I confronted Ryan, he denied everything. But I pieced together their mission and decided to help him. The main part of his mission was to prevent something from happening. He wasn’t able to stop it happening. But I was. And then they left.’

  Wolfe frowned. ‘They just left? They didn’t consider it necessary to bring you with them?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘And then Orion came back?’ said Admiral Wolfe. ‘Because he was in love with you?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘He came back to save my life. After they left, the mission cleaner killed me. Ryan thought that was unfair since I was the one who completed the mission. So he came back to save me.’

  I stopped talking and played with the frayed edge of my T-shirt, while Admiral Wolfe conferred with Lauren in low tones. I hoped I had said the right things.

  ‘Is there anything else you would like to add to your statement?’ he asked me.

  My palms were clammy. I rubbed the sweat on to my jeans. ‘Only that Ryan didn’t travel back for selfish reasons. He travelled back to save me, to make things right. He shouldn’t be punished for that.’

  Admiral Wolfe stood up. ‘You’re free to go, but don’t leave the city until after Orion’s trial. You will be called as a witness.’

  ‘Can I see him?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible,’ said the admiral. ‘The only visitor that young man can see today is his lawyer.’

  Lauren stood up. ‘I’ll show you the way out.’

  ‘Take her to the front desk for a resettlement pack,’ said the admiral.

  I followed Lauren along a series of long white corridors, each one lined with identical white doors, all shut, like a hospital without visitors. Sunlight poured through tall windows, blinding me with brightness. I squinted at the floor and hurried after Lauren who was striding ahead of me.

  ‘A word of advice,’ said Lauren as we entered the reception. ‘Let me tell them you’re eighteen. Unless you want to end up in a state care home for the next two years.’

  Three women sat behind the long reception desk, each dragging icons across a transparent membrane computer and talking into a headset. One of them looked up at us.

  ‘This is Eden Anfield,’ said Lauren. ‘She’s eighteen. Out of time. She needs a resettlement pack.’

  The woman spoke quietly into her headset, smiled and passed me a card. It was the size of a credit card, but thinner and made of a soft flexible material.

  ‘This flexi-card will cover six weeks at the Lakeview Hotel and enough credit to buy food and clothing for the same period,’ she said. She reached beneath the counter and passed me a small resealable plastic bag containing my only possessions: my mobile phone; the gold chain with my mother’s wedding ring; the penny I’d found on the moor; two photographs; and my wallet. ‘I believe these are also yours.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Lauren. She turned and walked back the way we had come.

  A small transparent screen blocked the front door. As I approached, a red light quickly pulsed against my eyes.

  ‘Eden Anfield,’ said a melodic, disembodied voice. ‘Cleared to leave the building.’

  I walked through the front door and out into the brilliant sunshine.

  That was when the full reality of my situation hit me. I knew no one. I didn’t even know where I was. I had nothing but the clothes on my back and the so-called relocation package on the flexi-card thing I’d been given. The only person I knew was Ryan, and he was locked up inside.

  I looked around me. The Institute was at the top of a hill. In front of me was a car park and a security gate leading to a wide avenue. I sucked in a deep breath and began walking.

  I was halfway across the car park when I saw him: Ben, the agent who
had led Ryan’s original mission to 2012. He was loading some files into the boot of his car. I stopped and stared. Back in 2012 he’d pretended to be Ryan’s father, a science writer who liked to live in secluded locations where he wouldn’t be disturbed. He’d stayed home most of the time, dressed in jeans and a shirt, a day’s worth of stubble on his cheeks. Now he was dressed in a smart charcoal uniform similar to Admiral Westland’s. His face was clean-shaven, his hair was short on the sides and slicked back on top.

  Back in 2012, he’d always been kind to me.

  ‘Ben?’ I said.

  He slammed the boot of his car shut and turned.

  ‘It’s me,’ I said.

  He blinked. ‘Eden?’

  I nodded and walked towards him.

  ‘What the hell?’ he said.

  ‘Ryan came back for me. The cleaner killed me so Ryan came back.’

  Ben just stared, his mouth open.

  ‘But the Guardians found out and sent a cleaner after him.’

  ‘I know. It’s been all over the news: Admiral Westland’s son has gone rogue and stolen a time-ship. The Institute refused to comment. They prefer to keep their affairs to themselves.’ He shook his head. ‘But here you are.’

  ‘Ryan’s locked up inside. There’s going to be a trial.’

  Ben glanced at his watch. ‘I want to talk, Eden. But I’m running late for my flight. Can I give you a ride somewhere?’

  ‘I’m going to be staying at the Lakeview Hotel. Can you drive me there?’

  Ben nodded. ‘Jump in.’

  ‘This looks disappointingly normal,’ I said, running my eyes over his car. ‘I was hoping for hover cars or a jet pack.’

  Ben gave me a look.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ I said, although I had expected the future to look more different than it had so far.

  ‘Don’t be fooled,’ he said. ‘It’s the little differences that throw you the most. They’re more unexpected. The big differences are easier to see.’

  ‘Where are we, anyway?’

  ‘Lakeborough, New Hampshire. Part of the Federation of North America. Lakeborough didn’t exist back in your time; it was just a collection of small resort towns. Now it’s home to the President’s summer residence and the Space and Time Institute. It’s a small city. You’ll be able to see downtown in a moment.’

  He started the car using a retinal scanner built into the dashboard and the engine gently hummed to life. We rolled through the gate and on to a wide, tree-lined avenue. I turned in my seat and looked behind me. The Space and Time Institute sat on the crest of the hill, all white granite and glass, like a diamond solitaire.

  The peaceful avenue that led from the Institute merged on to a busier road. We drove round a corner and the city came into view, spread below us all down the side of the hill and across the flat land to a large lake.

  ‘What month is it?’

  ‘It’s the end of July 2123.’

  I did a quick calculation. It was one month, and one hundred and eleven years in the future.

  ‘So tell me what happened,’ said Ben.

  I gave him the short version, about the cleaner coming back for Ryan and capturing us. I didn’t mention the part about me returning to my house and leading the cleaner to Ryan.

  ‘How long had Ryan been back in 2012 before the cleaner arrived?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Three days.’

  ‘That’s crazy! To portal in and out so close to when we portalled out.’

  ‘I know it’s dangerous. Our portal started collapsing on the way back here. We had to change course. I think we were supposed to have arrived in March.’

  Ben shook his head.

  ‘What do you think will happen to Ryan?’ I asked.

  ‘Unregulated time travel is one of the most serious crimes against time. He’s going to need a good lawyer.’

  ‘Admiral Westland said something about an old protocol that might help.’

  ‘I don’t know much about the law, but I do know that there isn’t much public support for time travel in general. Ryan’s going to have a fight on his hands.’

  The car slowed down and pulled up outside a white concrete building with metallic reflective windows.

  ‘This is the Lakeview Hotel,’ said Ben. ‘The Institute uses it for agents all the time. It’s discreet. Food’s quite nice.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, pulling the flexi-card from my pocket. ‘How does this work?’

  ‘It’s like a credit card, but it’s pre-paid,’ he explained. ‘You just hand it over when you need to pay.’

  ‘Anything else I should know?’

  He pulled a small device, about the size of a mobile phone, out of his jacket pocket. ‘This is a port-com. Portable communicator. It’s like a more sophisticated flexi-card. You use it to phone people, access the internet, and to pay for things once you have a bank account. You can’t function without one. If I give you just one piece of advice, it’s to get yourself a port-com as soon as possible.’

  I nodded. ‘Thanks, Ben.’

  He passed me a business card. ‘Call me any time. I’ve taken a new job. Moved on from time travel. I’m now captain of the Inter-Planetary Spaceport, a space station between Earth and the moon. I’m not close by, but if you have any questions or you need help with anything, just call.’

  The doorman of the hotel was eyeing me warily. ‘Can I help you, ma’am?’

  I looked behind me. No one. I was the ma’am.

  ‘I’d like to check in.’

  He looked around me and frowned. ‘Does madam have any luggage?’

  ‘I’m travelling light.’

  He ran his eyes over me in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable. And then I realised that I was dressed all wrong. I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but everyone else – other than those dressed in business suits – was dressed in a long tunic with leggings, like a body-con salwar kameez.

  I followed the doorman into the lobby of the Lakeview Hotel. Its cool marble floors, potted plants and prints reassuringly reminded me of my own time. The doorman deposited me at the reception desk and left.

  ‘I need a room,’ I said.

  ‘Single, double, deluxe or a suite?’ the receptionist asked in a bored voice.

  ‘Single.’

  ‘Your card?’

  I handed over the flexi-card and watched as he scanned it over a larger membrane. My picture and name materialised on the membrane, along with information regarding my credit. His expression brightened immediately.

  ‘Delighted to have you as our guest, Miss Anfield,’ he said, beaming at me. ‘I’ve allocated you a room on the fourth floor. There are beautiful views of the lake from there.’ He handed me back my flexi-card. ‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.’

  I thanked him and took the lift to the fourth floor. My room was too big to be a single. It had a king-size bed, a large bathroom and separate sitting area with two couches and a large membrane on the wall. I wondered if he had charged me extra for this.

  I shut the door. This was it: my home for the next six weeks. And then what? The future lay ahead of me, unlived and unknown, a small stream in the great ocean of time.

  I had no clothes to unpack, no book to read, no friends to call. I switched on my new phone and waited for it to power up. Would old technology still work? Would my phone automatically download a software upgrade and continue to function? A tiny part of me held on to a small hope that a time-travelling phone from 2012 would be able to make calls to 2012. The bar at the top of the screen indicated that the battery was full – this little sliver of technology from my own time surviving in this wide new world – but there was no service. I scrolled through my list of favourite contacts – Amy, Connor, Megan, Miranda, Ryan.

  Apart from Ryan, they were all dead now.

  I pressed the call button next to Connor’s name. I stared and stared at the words.

  Call failed.

  Of course it had. My brand new mobile phone was now nothing more
than an expensive digital clock. They were all gone. Every one of my friends had lived their lives already. They’d gone to university, chosen careers, fallen in love, had children and grandchildren, grown old or sick and died. I would never see them again.

  I tried to find a remote control for the screen – which I assumed to be a television – but there was nothing in the room. There were no buttons on the edge of the screen, nor was there room for them. The screen itself was transparent, like a thin sheet of Perspex hanging on the wall.

  ‘Television turn on,’ I said to the empty room, feeling foolish.

  Nothing happened.

  My phone said four in the afternoon. But that was a different day in a different month in a different century altogether. Overcome with weariness, I sat on the edge of the bed. I was tired, alone, dirty, had no change of clothes, no food, no friends and I couldn’t even work out how to turn on the TV. The only person I knew in the whole wide world was Ryan, but he was locked up in a cell waiting for his trial and I had no idea how to help him. Numbly, I flopped back on the bed and shut my eyes tight, longing for sleep to pull me under.

  Chapter 7

  I stepped outside. The city was monochrome in the pre-dawn light. Tiny raindrops, shimmering in the white streetlights, hit the grey pavement and formed long silver rivers in the gutters. I shivered in my T-shirt and jeans but I didn’t care. I’d woken with resolve. After a long sleep and a hot shower, I felt refreshed and determined. I would find a place to get breakfast, buy myself some clothes and go back to the Space and Time Institute to find out more about Ryan’s trial.

  I looked up and down the street, trying to guess which direction would lead me to food. The doorman was different to the one who had seen me arrive. He looked at me strangely. ‘Costume party?’ he asked.

  I nodded. ‘Where’s a good place to get breakfast?’

  He pointed down the street to my right. ‘Keep walking straight ahead and you’ll come to the lake. Make a right and you’ll come to a diner called the Peacock Feather. Open twenty-four hours. They serve the best potato cakes in the whole of the Federation.’

  I walked swiftly down the empty street, my flip-flops slapping against the wet ground. This was clearly the hotel district, a few blocks of wide tree-lined streets with hotels and expensive-looking restaurants. Doormen stood under broad black umbrellas as I hurried by. As I drew closer to the lake, the buildings looked older and I passed a sign that read Old Wolfeboro.