Trespassers: a science-fiction novel (18 page)

“
Yes,
”
Stewart said.
“
One is probably a supply bag. But the other four are some very desperate trespassers.
”

“
So, how do we cover that up?
”
Mindy asked.

“
We don
’
t have to,
”
Stewart explained.
“
They
’
ll be covering themselves up. What we do is get that heart-signal generator working and draw them right to us.
”

“
And then what?
”
Mindy asked.

“
Then we find out what all this is about.
”
He turned to Web.
“
How
’
s that signal coming?
”

“
Almost finished,
”
Web reported.
“
I just have to get started on it.
”
He knew not to bore them with the technical breakthroughs he had made on the ride over.

“
Perfect,
”
Stewart said.
“
Get to work on it
—
all night if you have to. We want that thing ready in the morning.
”

“
Can I ask one more question?
”
Mindy said. Stewart
’
s eyes let her know to proceed.
“
Why aren
’
t we telling anyone else about this?
”

A grin broke across Stewart
’
s face. She would have to be satisfied with that, because it was all she was going to get. The answer was right out the door, around the corner, and up the hall. It was the large corner office with the bird
’
s eye view
—
that
’
s right, it was an underground office with a marvelous panoramic view, thanks to high-tech fiber optics that piped in crystal-clear images from ten stories above the ground, generating the illusion of a picture window. It was that office that Stewart was chasing, not just for the office itself, but more for what it represented. It was currently unoccupied. While the work crew was putting the final touches on the interior, a decision was being made about who would take possession. It was clearly down to two candidates: Stewart and Renny Cooper
—
an agent far below Stewart
’
s caliber. Stewart had done more for the Limestone Deposit Survey Group than twenty Renny Coopers. Stewart belonged in that corner office, and he was eager to prove it. Stewart was known as a rising star in the Limestone Group, but for Stewart the rise was never rapid enough. This particular case felt like a big opportunity. He could feel something big at the end of it. He could feel a corner office.

Stewart
’
s problem wasn
’
t with Renny Cooper specifically. It was with the idea of Renny Cooper. Stewart had been with the department from the beginning, back in the early days, when they had to make it up as they went along. The early guys who laid the foundation were being pushed out by a flood of executive stiffs who were good at corporate ladder climbing. Renny Cooper wouldn
’
t know the first thing about confiscating a spaceship, but he sure knew how to take credit for someone else
’
s confiscation. It seemed that Renny was getting a pat on the back for every ship that Stewart brought in, and Stewart couldn
’
t figure out how. Renny wasn
’
t even in the normal chain of command
—
he reported to some office in Washington that had planted him here about eleven months ago. Stewart reported to George, just as he always had, just like in the early days before the Limestone Group had an official name or its own high-tech building .
.
. before the US government decided the regulation of alien visitors was too important to be left to those who actually knew what they were doing. Yes, Stewart had a chip on his shoulder. But the whole Limestone Deposit Survey Group was behind him and would cheer when he threw Renny Cooper out.

Sara followed Jeremy down a path that weaved through the forest behind his house. Jeremy was happy to push low-hanging branches out of the way for her, and Sara was pleased to follow him through the overgrown trail. For the first time in eight months, Sara was able to hide from the overwhelming mystery of her life and find refuge with this boy who was no mystery at all.

His genuine simplicity captivated her. She didn
’
t think he was dumb, not at all: just simple. He was able to rise above all the complication and see things in a simple way. That was his genius. And that
’
s exactly what she needed now.

She could feel the smile on her face as she watched his back move through the trail. She noticed how careful he was to move debris out of her way and how he never stopped talking. The talking started out as nervous chatter, but quickly grew into a comfortable dialogue. Clearing the debris was fulfilling a natural instinct, and it sure felt good. It felt like holding a car door open, which felt like a date. And that
’
s probably why he liked it so much.

Sara and Jeremy were striding into the heart of
Camp Whatever
. This was the name Jeremy and his mother had settled on, after Jeremy
’
s father had changed the official name for the twentieth time. Almost twice a week Jeremy
’
s father would come up with a new
perfect name
, but none of them stuck like
Camp Whatever
.

“
That
’
s the soccer field, over there,
”
he said, pointing through the brush to a large clearing.
“
And that
’
s the cafeteria.
”
He pointed in the other direction.

Through openings in the thicket, Sara could see wooden stakes in the ground. Most of them had fallen over, and the faded ribbon had migrated horribly out of shape. It had once outlined the walls of a structure that was never to be built. The dream was starting to rub off on Sara. She could see lunches being served and milk cartons lining the tables.

Around each turn, Jeremy explained each section, according to his father
’
s grand design. There were swimming pools and horse stalls and wheelbarrow races, if only theoretically.

“
That must be the bonfire,
”
Sara said, nodding toward a huge wall of rotting wood on the far end of the clearing.

Jeremy laughed.
“
Yeah, that would make one heck of a fire.
”

Jeremy had decided that this secluded patch of forest would be the best spot for experimenting. He didn
’
t like the idea of what the cubes might do to the house.

“
So, what is it?
”
Sara asked.

“
What do you mean?
”

“
This part.
”
She threw her hand up at the field.
“
What
’
s this supposed to be?
”

Jeremy took another look at the clearing, seeing it through his father
’
s eyes.

“
This is it,
”
Jeremy announced, borrowing his father
’
s familiar words.
“
This is what separates our camp from the rest of the summer camps.
”
He shifted back to his own words.
“
That
’
s what my father likes to say, anyway. This is where the main cabins would be. He wanted the kids to participate as soon as they arrived. He wanted to put them into groups and have them paint their own cabins. And they could pick whatever colors they wanted.
”

Sara smiled back at him, so captivated by his manner that she forgot to pay attention to what he was saying. When Jeremy caught that smile, he forgot what he was saying as well.

“
When you asked me out, I actually thought for a second that you might be the one who was supposed to contact me .
.
. the one who was mentioned in the note.
”

Jeremy smiled at this. He wasn
’
t sure whether she was actually asking him.

“
I was mad at you for being so late,
”
she admitted.

He still wasn
’
t sure.

“
I
’
m not, you know,
”
he said.

“
I know.
”
She smiled.
“
I
’
m still mad at you for being so late, though.
”

There was a sudden silence that was sweeter than any words. One side of Jeremy
’
s mind was screaming
Kiss her!
The other side was busy playing images of all the catastrophes that might take place if he tried. In one image, she slapped him. In another, she laughed right in his face. Then he felt the edge of the box digging into his side, and the dull pinch reminded him why they were there.

“
I guess we should try these out,
”
he said, turning a fire hose on the whole romantic moment.

“
Yeah.
”
Sara quickly nodded. She had also been playing catastrophic images of what might happen. And, unbeknownst to Jeremy, this was one of them.

Her smile suddenly turned from captivated to obligatory. Jeremy set the box on a nearby stump and opened its lid.

“
Okay, so what do you think these others do?
”
he said, in an awkward attempt to restart the conversation. He pulled a quoret from the box and looked it over.
“
How does it work?
”

“
I just turned it on and pointed it,
”
she shrugged.

“
How do you turn it on?
”

“
Put your fingers in the grooves on the side,
”
she said,
“
and twist your wrist until the bottom lights up.
”

“
How did you figure that out?
”

“
By accident.
”

“
So, there
’
s no instruction manual, huh?
”
he smirked.

Sara smiled.

“
Okay, here we go.
”
Jeremy held the quoret in his fingers and twisted his wrist. The cube illuminated, and he aimed it at a nearby rock. The rock did exactly nothing.

“
Does it feel like it
’
s doing anything?
”
she asked.

“
Maybe.
”

He tried to use his mind to will the rock to move. He squinted and focused. He pictured it lifting off the ground. The whole endeavor was right on the verge of ridiculousness. But what kept it from crossing the line over to absurdity was what he had witnessed back in the house, no more than twenty minutes ago. When you watch a wall dissolve, you tend to give a little more slack to the absurdity rope. Plus, Jeremy really wanted these things to do something cool.

“
Well, that
’
s not working,
”
Sara concluded, as she watched the stubborn rock.

Jeremy stopped aiming.

“
So what are you thinking?
”
Sara asked.

“
I have to stop picturing you in your underwear if I want this erection to go down,
”
he said. These words shocked his system. He hadn
’
t authorized his mouth to say such a thing.
“
I mean
—
I don
’
t know why I said that.
”

She watched him squirm.

“
I don
’
t know where that came from.
”

“
You
’
re picturing me in my underwear?
”