Music of the Spheres (4 page)

No—he thought suddenly to himself—when he
met
with
Calbert. Michael decided right then and there that he needed to speak to his
former colleague in person.

He went to his computer and logged onto his travel account
and purchased a ticket for Toronto, where Quantum Resources maintained their
earthbound administrative offices.

Calbert would see him; Michael’s strong endorsement had
launched him into the director’s chair. And if anyone in the industry had an
inside track on what was really happening, it would be Calbert, who always had
both Raymond Magrath and George Markowitz nearby. The trio were an intellectual
powerhouse when they put their respective heads together. Since the
restructuring of Quantum Resources, the three had been delegated to more of a
public relations and administrative role.

Satisfied in his plans, Michael headed for his bed. His
empty bed…

He had an unexpected pang of loneliness and loss when he
approached the bed he had shared with his wife for more than forty years, and
he had to choke back the tear that welled in his eye.

Melanie…

He lay down and was on the cusp of sleep when the comchime
sounded and gave him a start.

Looking at the clock again, he willed his lungs to pump air
in and out once more. Every time someone called unexpectedly, Michael had a
flashback to when he answered the phone to a somber but officious voice asking
him if he was the husband of Melanie Sanderson.

Regaining his composure, he said, “Who is it, Hucs?” to his
apartment’s home-unit computer system.

was the answer.

“Oh?”

That was odd. Usually it was Michael who initiated contact
with Alex. Michael hoped there was nothing wrong.

“Put him on.”

The call came through, and at first Michael thought the link
had been disconnected because all he got was static.

“Hucs, can you amplify?”

But there was no need because Michael heard Alex speak then,
and the boy’s tone sent a chill through him.

“Michael.” Alex’s voice was hollow and haunted.

Michael asked, “Alex, are you all right?”

“It’s getting harder,” Alex said. “The Song is in my head
but I can’t hear it because it’s too loud. They want me.”

“Alex? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out,” Alex said,
and Michael wished he could look at the young man. Over a year ago, Alex had
disabled the video feed on his communicator. He had said he didn’t want anyone
to see him looking the way he did.

“Alex, do you need me to come up there?” Michael hadn’t been
up to CS3 since before Melanie passed away.

“No,” Alex said. “But I do need you to do something for me.”

“Anything. What do you need?” Michael asked.

A silence stretched out for an impossible length of time and
for a moment Michael thought they had been disconnected. But then Alex said,
“Find him.”

“Find him? Find who?”

“He has the answer. He’s always had the key; he just never
knew it.” Alex’s voice was becoming thin, and Michael could sense that the
conversation would not last very long, and neither would Alex.

He said, “Tell me who you mean, Alex. You need to help me if
I’m to help you.”

When there was no immediate answer, Michael barked out a
command. “Hucs, get the communications officer of Canada Station Three—”

“Yaxche,” Alex said, interrupting Michael. “You have to hear
him tell you the story.”

And then the link went dead.

Michael repeated his command to Hucs to reestablish
communication. After several minutes, he managed to connect with a CS3
operator.

“This is Michael Sanderson,” he stated. “Former Director of
Quantum Resources. I need to get in contact with Alex Manez. It’s an
emergency.”

“Right away, sir,” the woman said.

While he waited, Michael pondered the emotions running
around inside him.

In the space of a day, he had gone from a lost soul to
someone with purpose. Was it the thrill of a scientific mystery, was it the
promise of untold wonders, or was it the concern he held for this young man who
was at the heart of the matter? Or a combination of all three?

The operator came back on. “I’m sorry, sir, but Alex Manez has
been admitted to our care facility. He’s had some kind of episode. I’m afraid
he will be unable to take your call.”

“Of course,” Michael said. “Who is attending him?”

“Dr. Amma. She’s the top neurologist in her field.”

“I’m sure she is. Listen, I know it’s not really your job,
but if you could do me a favor and transmit updates to me at this link, I would
appreciate it.”

“Yes, sir. I understand your concern.”

Michael hung up. He sat on the bed.

Find Yaxche?

How odd that earlier in the day Michael had learned about
the old man’s kidnapping, and now he’d received a message from Alex—almost four-hundred-thousand
kilometers away in space—telling him to get to the bottom of this mystery.

One option Michael had was to chart a flight with Lunar
Lines and go see Alex. The rational side of him knew that there was nothing he
could do except stand vigil beside his young friend, and in the end that might
be the only course of action that would do either of them any good.

But Michael had to hold on to the hope that there was,
indeed, something that could be done. If finding Yaxche and figuring out why
the Cruzados had kidnapped him—and what key he unwittingly possessed—gave Alex
any chance of surviving his disability, then Michael really had no choice when
it came down to it.

Resolved in his sense of purpose, he slipped inside the bed
sheets and forced himself to fall asleep.

He had a very busy day ahead.

8

Canada Station Three
:

Lagrange Point 4 :

Earth Orbit :

When Alex came
out of his trance, a nurse hurried over to him, looking concerned.

“What happened?” he asked her in a groggy voice. He couldn’t
focus. The lights hurt his eyes.

“It’s going to be all right, Alex,” the nurse said. Her
voice was muffled, as if she were speaking to him from a great distance.

“Where am I?” he asked.

The nurse put a cold pack on his forehead. “You had a minor
cerebrovascular attack—probably just a side effect of your condition coupled
with stress. You’ve developed a fever, but Dr. Amma told me you would be fine
in a day or so. Just rest.”

He lay back and closed his eyes, not to sleep, but in an
attempt to get back to that superconscious state and figure out what it all
meant.

Exhaustion, however, prevented him from reaching that
transcendent plateau. He opened his eyes once more, but the nurse was gone.

Alex lifted an arm to press the call button, but his muscles
were far too weak to respond.

Despondently, he remained in the hospital bed the rest of
the night, struggling to recapture his thoughts, but finding them as elusive as
his long-gone dreams.

∞

Dr. Amma visited Alex early the next morning.

“How are you feeling, Alex?” she said. “You gave us all
quite a scare last night.”

She was middle-aged, very thin and short. With her hair
pulled back in a tight bun, she took on a vague ferret-like semblance. Of all
the people on Canada Station Three, and all the Quantum Resources staff, Dr.
Amma was the only one Alex thought truly wanted to help him. Everyone else
treated him as a lab rat or an untapped gold mine.

“I’m fine,” Alex said.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“I don’t sleep.” Alex smiled when he said it. Dr. Amma often
asked him questions like that, as if trying to trip him up. There was a touch
of the psychologist in her, he thought.

“Ah, yes. One can always hope.” Dr. Amma looked down at her holoslate
and read from her notes. “Well, it looks like your electrolyte count is back to
normal. Vitals are stable.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “It wasn’t a coma and it wasn’t a
stroke.”

Dr. Amma leveled her gaze at him. “All the readings
indicated you were presenting symptoms of a hemorrhagic event. We couldn’t take
a tomography scan because of your pre-existing condition, but it resembled a
stroke.”

Although Alex’s electropathic ability had been reduced to a
shadow of its former power, there was a minute amount of residual radiation in
him, enough to skew the results of any X-ray or electroencephalograph. Lack of
proper testing reduced any medical diagnosis to nothing more than an educated
guess.

“I was aware through the entire incident,” Alex told her.
“Though it was clouded.”

Dr. Amma narrowed her eyes. “And how would you describe the
incident?”

Leaning back into his pillow, Alex stared at the ceiling. “I
was separated from myself, but at the same time I went deeper into myself than
I ever had before.”

“A dissociative fugue?” Dr. Amma guessed.

“No. It was more of a trance. I think … I belong in a
different place, or a different state, and my consciousness wanted to go there.”

“Do you know where that is?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I lost the connection.”

“I hope you won’t be sending the medical teams into a panic
again.”

Alex smiled. “No. And I’m sorry if that frightened everyone.
It was unintentional.”

Dr. Amma pulled the holoslate to her chest and folded her
arms over it.

“Alex, I want to help you. I need to know everything. If you
have any idea how to make you better—”

He said, “Get me next to a supply of Kinemet.”

“You know I can’t,” she said. “They stopped mining it, and
whatever they have left over they’re hoarding like it was the key to the gate
of heaven.”

9

Proposed
Holocommercial :

Lunar Lines PR
Transcript :

The sun slowly settles over the crescent of
Earth’s horizon. As the sun meets the Earth, it’s corona explodes in a flash of
light.

ANNOUNCER

From
the Earth…

The sun disappears to darkness, and a
full moon, bright and silver, rises in its place in the night sky.

ANNOUNCER

…to the
Moon

Cut to:

Several passengers lounge on large
seats and at a bar in the luxurious interior of a Lunar Lines vessel. They are
laughing and smiling.

ANNOUNCER

Why not
travel in style?

Cut to:

A female passenger lays her head on a
pillow on a contoured bed and pulls a comforter blanket around her.

ANNOUNCER

Lunar Lines – We’ll get you there.

10

Lunar Lines Vessel,
Diana
:

Earth–CS3 Transit :

Normally, Justine
would
be circulating around the cabin of the
Diana
once the space
liner reached escape velocity and the passengers were free to roam about.

Like a minor celebrity hired to mingle with customers at a
restaurant or political event, Justine’s primary job description was to
socialize, tell stories of her days as a pilot, and offer technical
explanations for every aspect of their voyage; anything to put the travelers at
ease.

Her position as flight guide didn’t give her the rush of
actually captaining a ship, but at least she was in space and talking about the
things which held her passion.

This particular trip, however, was going to be
excruciatingly boring for her.

The cargo bay itself encompassed nearly the entire length of
the liner and the lower half of its height. From a fiscal standpoint, Justine
knew, most of the company’s profits came from freight rather than fares. Taking
on passengers was more for the public relations exposure than anything else.

Since a good deal of the cargo was perishables intended for either
Canada Station Three or Luna Station, they kept the heat in the bay at minimum.
Justine needed to wear a thick sweater over her PERSuit harness to keep from
freezing, and this severely hampered the sensors. Unfortunately, the harness
was tailored to fit snugly, and wouldn’t fit on top of a sweater or jacket.

Not having the harness on made her job navigating through
the maze of containers something of a nightmare, especially when she had to
cart drinks and snacks from the kitchenette one floor above to the soldiers
guarding the insulated crate of Kinemet at the back of the cargo hold.

It was ridiculous to think only someone with security
clearance was permitted to serve the guards, but she was determined to make the
best of it.

The eight uniformed men took their jobs extremely seriously.
They were a very tight-lipped crew, and when they were on duty, they held their
post in complete silence. At all times, two of them stood guard on either side
of the container holding the Kinemet. They had M72 ion pulse rifles at the
ready. A third and fourth soldier walked the perimeter of the cargo bay. Every three
hours, they would relieve each other in rotating shifts.

When she first arrived in the cargo bay and was introduced
to the squad members, they were very formal and would only address her as Major
Turner, even after she repeated to them, “Just call me Justine.”

Once they were in space, Justine asked them for their
orders, and they stared at her in frozen terror. Here was a retired NASA major fetching
drinks for them.

“Guys,” she had said, “if you don’t tell me what you want,
it’s going to be a very thirsty trip.”

Having grown accustomed to putting people at ease with her
former celebrity, Justine cracked a few jokes and made sure to ask them
questions about their family back home in order to get to know them. After a
few hours they relaxed around her, though they all remained very respectful and
polite.

They would respond to direct questions from Justine, but the
only one who went out of his way to engage in conversation with her was the
squad leader, Lieutenant John Jeffries. He was quite young—all the soldiers
were—and Justine could tell he was trying to set an example for the men under his
command. Soon, however, he truly warmed to Justine and there were moments she
was certain he forgot her former status as a major.

When the soldiers were off shift they snoozed, read books or
watched vids on their holoslates. Lieutenant Jeffries had brought an
old-fashioned crib board and challenged Justine to a game when he wasn’t on
duty. It killed the time.

Ordinarily, with her optilink sensor, she was unable to
discern standard print on paper or cardboard. When the optilink was hooked to the
PERSuit harness, however, she could interpret changes in color and translate
the two-dimensional images to her mind.

The only problem was, while she played the game, she had to
take off her sweater, so she usually had to stop after a few games before she
got too cold.

During Lieutenant Jeffries’ second stint off-duty, they
played for about an hour. Justine was up six games to five over the lieutenant,
who had won most of their previous matches. She was on a winning streak, and
didn’t want to quit, despite the fact that she was shivering.

Lieutenant Jeffries was five points behind the skunk line,
and Justine needed six points to win. She kept her pegging cards, since it was
his first count.

He played his first card. “Three,” he said. “Try to ‘fifteen’
that.”

Justine laid down a ‘three’ of her own. “Six for two.” She
took her points while Lieutenant Jeffries pondered his next play. It was
obvious he had kept his small cards as well in an attempt to avoid being
skunked. He played what Justine assumed was his highest card: a seven.

“Thirteen,” he said.

She dropped her deuce and smiled. “Fifteen for two. Two to
go.”

He hesitated and took a second look at her harness. “You
sure that thing doesn’t have X-ray vision or something?”

Justine laughed. “No excuses. Get ready to be humiliated.”

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s my other ‘three’. Eighteen.”

With an exaggerated motion, Justine placed her own ‘three’
down. “Twenty-one for two. And game.”

Clicking his tongue, the lieutenant flipped over his last
card. “I had a ‘five’.”

“I had you either way.” Justine showed him her ‘four’.

Throwing down his card in mock outrage, the lieutenant said,
“I can’t let you get away with that. One more?”

“I wish I could, but you won’t have much competition against
an icicle.” Justine chuckled and slipped her thick sweater over her head, reducing
her vision to the regular optilink level. “It’s time for me to make a round
anyway. Did you need anything?”

“No thanks,” he said. “Hey, I know this must be the worst
assignment you’ve ever had.”

“Not the worst,” Justine said with an equivocal smile.

“Compared to flying to Pluto?” he asked while packing up the
crib board. “Working as a hostess must be difficult.”

Rubbing her hands together to get the circulation flowing,
Justine gave a half-shrug. “It may not be as exciting,” she said, “but at least
at I get to tell tall tales, and they pay me for it.”

She got up and, after polling the other soldiers for their
orders, made her way to the elevator and up to the kitchenette.

Besides the flight crew and the hospitality staff, no one
else knew Justine was on board. She was recognizable, and if any of the
passengers saw her, it might lead to questions NASA and the military didn’t
want to answer.

While she was loading a cart with snacks and drinks, one of
the stewardesses, Brandi, popped into the cramped room and walked directly
toward her. Justine couldn’t see the look on her colleague’s face, but the
woman’s voice was a mix of concern and puzzlement.

“There’s a call for you,” Brandi said.

Justine shook her head. “No one knows I’m here. Are you sure
it’s for me?”

Brandi nodded.

“Who is it?” Justine asked.

“Don’t know. It’s encoded.”

Thinking it might be Director Mathers checking in with her, Justine
nodded to Brandi. “Thanks.”

After securing the food cart in the walk-in cooler, Justine
made her way toward the cabin, outside of which there was a tiny communications
cubical.

It was a video chat, so there was no need for Justine to
take her sweater off. The regular optilink sensor could translate the digital images
on the screen as if she had normal vision.

She stepped inside the cubicle, closed the door and turned
on the holoslate.

A familiar but unexpected face appeared, and Justine was
momentarily taken aback.

“Clive?”

When Alex had returned from Centauri, Justine had wanted to
be there on the Moon when Alex got back, and had spent a few hours catching up
with him. After Alex was whisked off by NASA officials back to Earth, Justine
had remained for a few days for a debriefing with Clive Wexhall, who was still
NASA’s liaison on the Moon.

The first evening, he had invited her out for dinner.
Justine didn’t know whether it was her euphoria at having Alex back safe and
sound, or her own sense of isolation because of her blindness and demotion from
flight status, or if it was just too many glasses of wine, but she had ended up
spending that night—and every subsequent night during her visit—with Clive.

Once she had returned to Earth, she had chalked it up to
nothing more than a brief fling, but Clive wanted to see her again.

Despite his regular calls to her afterwards, she had tried
to keep her emotions in check, and keep their relationship on a casual level.

When she had secured her job with Lunar Lines six months
ago, Clive had somehow found out and had been waiting for her the first time
she docked at Luna Station.

They had spent every moment of the two-day layover together
as if they had never been apart. Justine had told herself not to let her feelings
get the better of her. She had explained to Clive that she wasn’t ready for anything
more serious in her life. He said he was perfectly fine with that.

Whenever Justine was away, they remained friendly and
platonic; but whenever she was on Luna Station, she would stay with him at his
apartment. They had fallen into a routine, and Justine didn’t want to change
their arrangement.

She had not had time to contact Clive before the space liner
took off, and normally he wouldn’t call her while she was on duty, so she was
surprised that he managed to track her down. No one was supposed to know about
her presence on the ship.

“Nice to see you, too,” he replied with a playful smile and
a hint of sarcasm.

When Justine didn’t respond right away, Clive pretended to
look hurt.

“Sorry,” she said. “Of course, I’m happy to see you. You
know that. I just wasn’t expecting you to call me here.”

“You don’t like surprises?” he asked with a smile. “I would
have called before you left, but I’ve been up to my neck in paperwork,
arranging for the transfer and storage of your, ahem, precious cargo.”

“You know about the shipment?” she asked.

“Who do you think suggested you for the assignment?”

Justine’s eyes flared. “You! You’re responsible for me
spending the last ten hours in a freezing cargo bay? And you didn’t give me a
heads-up?”

His smile grew wider. “Sorry about that,” he said, not
sounding apologetic at all. “But I figured it would be a great opportunity for
you.”

“What?” Justine couldn’t believe her ears. “And how is this
a great opportunity for me? It’s so secret I didn’t know about it until a few
moments before I came on board. And it’s so tedious, I’m about to go crazy from
the boredom. And did I mention,” she added, “that I’m freezing my extremities down
there?”

Clive laughed. “I have some news that might warm you up.”

She pointed a warning finger at him. “It had better be
good.”

“I’ve arranged to escort you—and the shipment—from CS3 to
Luna Station.”

“You have?” Justine felt herself flush. Then she blinked. “Where
are you calling from?”

“I just arrived on CS3 about a half hour ago. I’ve also made
reservations for a private booth at the Terra Vista Restaurant, and I have balcony
tickets to
La Dance Des Étoiles
.
”

“I’ve always wanted to see that,” Justine said, her voice
softening.

“There’s no sense in spending the eight-hour layover—as you
say—freezing our extremities on the liner’s cargo bay. There are plenty of things
to do on CS3.”

“Clive, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you were
trying to butter me up for something.”

He laughed. “It’s all for purely selfish reasons, I assure
you. I just want you to start thinking of me as more than a bi-monthly
boyfriend.” Clive’s tone turned serious at that last part.

Justine balked at his declaration. She was comfortable the
way things were. There had been far too many changes in her life over the past
few years, and she was just starting to get her feet under her and adjust to
her circumstances.

She truly looked forward to spending a couple of days every
other week with Clive on the moon. With his busy political schedule and her
traveling, Justine didn’t know if there was any way they could bring their
relationship to the next level. Or that she wanted to.

The thought of anything more than what they had already
scared her. Justine’s long-ago marriage to Brian had been a disaster, and it
hadn’t been his fault. She had always been a career-minded woman, and had her
eyes—and heart—set on the stars.

Even now that she could no longer captain a ship, deep down
she held the desire to return to space as something more than a tour guide. She
did not want to be bound to Earth or the Moon. It was a ridiculous notion, but
she hoped technology would advance to the point where it could either
completely restore her sight, or provide her with a less cumbersome prosthetic
device than the PERSuit.

“Hey,” Clive said. “I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“No, not at all.” Justine smiled to show she wasn’t upset.
“But while you’re in a generous mood, maybe I can get you to do me a very
special favor.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Justine said, “Maybe you can help me with Alex Manez.”

Clive made a gruff sound in his throat. “Not this again. Since
Quantum Resources is under full Canadian ownership, I don’t even have clearance
to
ask
if they have any Kinemet, let alone get them to allocate any for—”

Then he suddenly figured out what Justine was getting at.

“No way.” Clive’s face turned red and he dropped his voice.
“I seriously hope you’re not suggesting we smuggle any of our Kinemet off that liner.”