chapter 24
FOR HARPREET
The officer in red armor beside Pavel was speaking quietly into his comm. “How much longer?”
The two had been trapped in a corridor between locked doors for several minutes following Pavel’s conversation with his aunt.
Pavel surmised she’d been shown video footage revealing that her nephew was, in fact, acting in collusion with Brian Wallace.
Pavel felt grateful Jessamyn was millions of kilometers from his aunt.
“I’ll try the door again,” said Pavel, rising and walking calmly to the door that led away from Harpreet’s cell.
“Stop right there,” warned the officer, breaking off from his comm line conversation.
But Pavel pretended he hadn’t heard. Because inside his earpiece, Pavel had just received instructions from Ethan.
“Proceed to the door on your right,” said Ethan. “I will open it and then lock it behind you.”
“I said stop! You! Brezhnaya-Bouchard!”
Pavel did not stop. He hoped the officer didn’t have orders to “shoot the nephew if he runs.” Even more, he hoped Ethan was
serious about the door opening. Pavel broke into a run as the officer started to chase him. Either the door would open or Pavel
would have a badly broken nose very soon. He pushed himself faster. Just as he was about to collide with the door, it slid open. He
reached the other side, panting, and it clanged shut behind him.
To his right, Pavel beheld a mass of people—detainees by their clothing—striding along the corridor.
“What?” he muttered to himself.
“Doctor!” called Kazuko Zaifa, beckoning Pavel.
Pavel slid in beside Brian Wallace, Harpreet, and Kazuko.
“We break left at the next turn,” murmured Brian Wallace to Pavel.
“Okay,” said Pavel, his heart racing from the run and the unexpected prospect of salvation.
“Now,” called Brian.
The four detached from the mob and dashed left to a corridor with a door leading to the outside.
“This way,” said Brian, tugging at Pavel.
The door to the outside retracted, but on the other side stood a guard who looked very much surprised by both the door’s opening
and the presence of the four behind the door.
“Good day, Jonathan,” said Harpreet, who apparently knew the guard by name.
“What’s going on?” Jonathan asked, taking in the prison garb and medical insignia of the four behind him.
“Arrest them!” came a voice from somewhere behind them.
Pavel turned to look and saw the crowd swelling around the corner the four had just slipped past.
“Arrest the doctor!” came the cry from somewhere behind the crowd.
The confused guard shifted his weapon. “You heard them, ma’am,” Jonathan said to Harpreet. “I can’t let you pass.”
She smiled and patted his forearm. “You must do what you feel is right, of course.”
“Let me through,” demanded a guard from the back of the crowd. “Or we start shooting!”
Half the crowd drew back like water toward a drain. The other half stood their ground, protecting Harpreet Mombasu. The old
woman’s name was upon many tongues, a susurration, an inspiration.
“Go!” cried a prisoner from the front of the crowd. Along with two others, he hurtled toward Jonathan, knocking the gun from the
guard’s grip. Others rushed to tackle the hapless guard, crying, “For Harpreet!”
A handful of shots rang out and pandemonium ensued, the crowd surging forward and then shrinking back.
“You heard the man,” said Brian Wallace to his companions. “Let’s go!”
Harpreet called a hurried, “Have pity on Jonathan,” to the surging crowd before dashing outside.
As soon as the four cleared the exit from the building, the door slammed shut behind them. They ran to the dirt-brown ship awaiting
them and clambered aboard, Pavel throwing himself into the pilot’s seat.
“Hold tight!” he called.
Ethan was able to keep the prison doors jammed until the swift ship was several kilometers from New Timbuktu. It was a head start
they put to good use, fleeing as if some devil were after them.
Or, thought Pavel, as if his aunt was after them. It amounted to much the same thing, he mused.
Pavel called out to Ethan, “You’re a hacking genius, man!”
“So my sister has often told me,” replied Ethan.
At the mention of Jessamyn, Pavel felt his heart fold over on itself. The smile faded from his face and he fought off memories of the
girl in the orange dress, laughing beside him. She’d probably forgotten him by now. He busied himself with the ship’s navigation.
Ethan continued. “It is almost certain the Chancellor will have requested Cassondra Kipling be brought in for interrogation. Should
we not make the attempt to abduct her as well?”
“Oh, dear,” said Brian Wallace. “Sounds like we’re headed back to the capitol, then?”
But when Ethan brought up information showing Kipper’s new location at the Dunakeszi Hospital and Clinic for Brain Injury, Pavel
flat out refused to attempt her rescue.
“Seems a bit heartless, lad, don’t you think?” asked Brian Wallace.
“No,” argued Pavel. “Look at these records. She’s comatose. My aunt won’t get anywhere trying to question her. And I don’t have the
equipment or personnel to handle a patient requiring this level of care. She’s safest where she is. If we attempt to move her, she
could die.” He glanced over to Ethan and Harpreet. “I’m sorry. But she’s getting state-of-the-art care at Dunakeszi.”
“How is your aunt likely to deal with a prisoner in Captain Kipling’s state?” asked Harpreet.
Pavel frowned. “She’ll rage and fume at the physician in charge, but once she learns nothing can be done, she’ll forget all about her.
Move on to the next big thing.”
Harpreet sighed. “In that case, I am forced to agree it would be in the captain’s best interest for us to leave her in the hospital for
now.”
“That’s settled, then,” said Pavel. “So what’s next?”
Harpreet smiled. “Dr. Zaifa has been telling me some very interesting things about the languages used to communicate with the
deep-space satellites circling Mars.”
Pavel blinked in surprise. “She knows where you’re from?”
“And she is interested in helping us,” replied Harpreet.
Pavel shook his head. Harpreet had a remarkable effect on people.
Dr. Zaifa spoke. “I’m certain I can recreate the code necessary for communication with the satellites. Only a reasonably robust
computing system would be required. However, I must caution you against simply sending the information to the extant deep-space
satellite dishes.”
“The Terran government monitors those transmissions,” Ethan said.
“Exactly,” replied Kazuko. “You would be better served by building your own dishes.”
“Oh, sure,” said Pavel, rolling his eyes. “Because there are so many retailers selling do-it-yourself satellite dish kits for use in deep
space.”
Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Actually,” he said. “I know of an enclave where this sort of thing could be built.”
“Enclave?” asked Pavel.
“They like to keep their heads low,” replied Brian Wallace. “Not the friendliest of folk, mind, but open to economic opportunities
outside those normally sanctioned by Lucca Brezhnaya’s government.”
“A black market,” said Pavel.
“Well, they prefer to be called independent traders,” said Wallace. “Shall I contact them?”
Pavel deferred to Ethan, who in turn deferred to Harpreet.
“That would be lovely,” she said.