Chasing Stars (9 page)

‘You will need to be debriefed,’ said the man in uniform. He nodded to the guards. ‘Take these two to Central Holding.’

Chapter 6

Lakeborough, Summer 2123

The room was small. As wide as my outstretched arms and not much longer than the metal bed – stained mattress, no blankets or sheets – that provided the only seating. Behind the bed was a toilet, a half-used roll of toilet paper and a small bottle of antibacterial hand gel.

When we had first arrived at Central Holding for processing – fingerprints taken, retinas and faces scanned, personal belongings removed and logged – I had hoped we would end up in the same cell while they decided what to do with us. A small part of me even hoped they would just let us go. But of course that didn’t happen. Ryan was going to have to stand trial and I was going to be questioned. We were put in separate cells.

I looked through the barred window set into the door, but could see nothing except for a long white corridor and a large analogue clock on the wall opposite. A single guard, dressed in a khaki uniform, stood outside my cell. A large gun was strapped across his body and a bunch of keys hung from a loop on his belt. I banged hard on the window. The guard turned, looked at me briefly, then turned away. I banged the window again.

‘Where am I?’ I yelled. ‘What country? What year?’

He didn’t turn around again.

How could it be that just a few hours ago I was in my bedroom in Penpol Cove and now I was over one hundred years in the future, standing in a prison cell?

I was about to bang on the door again when I was overcome with a sudden tidal wave of weariness. It poured over me, gradual at first, then rapidly, until I had no choice but to sit on the filthy mattress and rest my head in my hands. A part of my brain warned me that I should be plotting my next move, my testimony, something. But my eyelids fluttered shut and my mind was pulled deeper and deeper towards sleep until I was gone.

It felt like I had slept for several hours when the hard clank of metal scraping metal woke me. I sat up to see the guard unlocking my cell. A tall man in a charcoal uniform came in and stood before me, his arms crossed in front of him.

I pushed myself up, embarrassed to have been caught sleeping.

‘So,’ said the uniformed man, running his eyes the length of my body and finally resting on my face. ‘You’re what this is all about.’

‘I’m not sure what you mean, sir?’ I said, rubbing my sleep-bleary eyes.

‘You’re the reason my son broke the Temporal Laws, stole a ship and ruined his family’s reputation.’

‘You’re Mr Westland?’

‘Admiral Westland.’

He looked me over again and I was reminded of the fact that I’d spent last night sleeping in my clothes, I hadn’t had a shower for two days and my hair was a tangled mess. Not the sort of first impression I’d hoped to make with Ryan’s family.

Admiral Westland shook his head and looked away. ‘What was he thinking?’

I swallowed. ‘I guess there’s no accounting for taste.’

He looked up sharply. ‘That’s not what I . . .’ he began. ‘Never mind.’

‘Have you seen him? Is he OK?’

‘He’s in a lot of trouble.’ He sighed. ‘And all for nothing.’

I stood up. ‘It wasn’t for nothing. He saved my life. That might mean nothing to you, but it’s pretty damn important to me.’

Admiral Westland raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded me of his son. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I was dead.’

The admiral sat on the edge of the bunk. ‘Tell me everything.’

I wasn’t sure how much I should say. ‘Ryan and his team were sent back to stop something from happening,’ I said, choosing to be vague with the details.

‘Miss Anfield,’ he said, interrupting me, ‘I am one of the five Guardians of Time. Every time mission has a Guardian to oversee it. I was the Guardian for the mission known as “The Eden Mission”. I put together the team – including my son – who travelled to the past to work on it. I know what the mission set out to do. You don’t have to be concerned about what you say.’

‘They didn’t stop it happening,’ I said. ‘Connor was about to discover something he shouldn’t.’

‘A planet,’ said the admiral. ‘I know about the planet.’

‘I stopped Connor discovering it. And then, after Ryan left, the mission’s cleaner killed me. When Ryan found out, he came back to save my life.’

A distant smile crossed his face. ‘That changes everything. It wasn’t merely an impulsive love trip. It wasn’t just a selfish whim.’

I shook my head. ‘It wasn’t selfish at all. He gave up every­thing he has here in his own time – and everyone – to travel back and save me.’

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.