The Quiet Pools

“Daniel, read my lips: I didn’t do it.”

A blank stare turned to a hateful glare. “You did it to me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re not taking me. They’re not taking me, and it’s your goddamned fault. Because of your fucking father. Because I thought friendship fucking counted for something. They’re not taking me, do you understand? Because of you I’ve got to stay here.” The flyer beeped an out-of-lane alarm at Keith, and he slammed his palm against the dash. “Shut up!”

“What are you talking about? Memphis isn’t going anywhere. And you weren’t going on Memphis in the first place.”

“Fuck it,” he said sullenly.

Christopher did not understand what had just happened. “I’m coming back to Houston tomorrow. If you’re in trouble because of me, I want to help.”

“You, help me?” Keith’s snicker was nasty.

“I haven’t done anything against the Project. Not one thing,” Christopher said. “But they’ve done to me. They killed my father and stole his body. They took away my job, screwed up my career, and helped me screw up my family—not that I needed much help in that department. And do you know what? I still want them to make it.

“They were wrong to be afraid of me. I was wrong to duck my tail and run. That’s over. I’m coming back, and I’m going to stand toe-to-toe with Dryke or anyone else I have to until reality sinks in. And if I need to scrap for you at the same time, I will.”

Keith was silent, his eyes on the road.

“What’s going on, Daniel? Why are you up at this hour of the morning?”

When Keith finally spoke again, his voice was muted. “I don’t know why the hell I believe you,” he said. “I must be as big an idiot as they make, I guess.”

“Sorry. The line forms behind me.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you anything,” Keith said, rubbing his cheek roughly. “There isn’t anything you can do to help me. And there won’t be anyone here to talk to by the time you arrive.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re shutting down the training centers. All the small fry are being let go. They’re sending half the talent to Prainha, including me. The other half—four hundred people—is going up to Memphis. They’ve been flying out all night. You can guess why we’re needed in Prainha—they’re shipping people upstairs, too.”

“Why?”

Keith turned his head away to the right and drew a ragged breath. “Vincenza told the press that we’re sending technicians and engineers to help with the reconstruction, management to inspect the damage. That’s bullshit. I know the list. It’s the fraternity. And I can’t get anyone to admit it, but I know they’re not coming back.”

“That’s crazy. Where can they go?”

Keith’s gaze was faraway and sad. “Tau Ceti.”

Christopher gaped. “In what?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” Keith said, turning back. “Memphis isn’t hurt. Not that badly. But they’re not going to take any more chances. They’re going to move her. Everyone knows that. The only question is how far. I think they’re going to load her up and light her up the first chance they can, and not look back.” His mouth twisted into an acerbic smile. “That’s what I’d do, if I was Sasaki. And she’s at least as bright as I am.”

His own future vanishing with his friend’s, Christopher found himself hollow and numb. “Why are you going to Prainha?” he asked finally.

“Because I’m like you. I want them to make it no matter what they do to me,” he said. “I’m almost to the gate, Chris. I can’t stay on.”

“Wait—how’s the Houston staff getting to Memphis?’”

“Through Technica, I think. On the big bus. Jesus, Chris, you’re not going to try—you don’t think you’ll get near them, do you?”

“Why not? How many stowaways on Ur?”

“Sixteen. Trust me, they all had better plans than this.”

“Things are going to be crazy on Technica and Memphis both. It’s the last days of Saigon, man. And I think I ought to be able to pass myself off as a Project archie, don’t you?”

A long hesitation. “No,” Keith said. “Too many people from here know about you and Jeremiah.”

“Then—”

“Shut up. The Munich people are going through Horizon,” Keith continued. “You’ll have a better chance there, as a Houston staffer caught away from the center when the orders came through.”

Christopher had run out of words. “Thanks. You didn’t owe me that.”

“I know,” Keith said. “I said a better chance. Your chances are still piss-poor. Do me a favor, will you? Try not to let me find out if you make it. I want to be able to think it came out either way, depending on my mood.”

“Sure,” said Christopher, his throat hot.

“I’m up. Time to go. Have a life, huh?”

“I’ll try. Better days—my friend.”

“Fuck you very much.”

Christopher didn’t know how long he sat there, wet-eyed and stiff-backed, after the phone blanked. He had prepared himself for a marathon, but the only race open to him was a sprint. Last call, everyone in the blocks. But his feet, like his thoughts, were churning in mud.

Ready to go?

Not.

Gun in the air—

Wait!

But the starter paid no heed. The race was on. He had to start moving or walk away, disappear into the tunnel.

I have to get to Horizon.

That was almost an executable thought. The missing operand was Deryn. Without her permission or presence, he seemed to be able to do nothing on Sanctuary.

Where did Deryn say she was going?

Sanctuary’s infuriating phone net had no way to call persons, only places. He called all eight schools, harangued the net operator, even went to the door and called for her down Summer Corridor. Finally, out of desperation, he called Anna X.

“McCutcheon,” she said. “Your timing is very good. I was about to send someone for you.”

“I have to find Deryn. Do you know where she is?”

“No. Do you remember the way to my Circle Room?”

“Where we had our meeting? Yes.”

“Then come here, please. As quickly as you can.”

“With no escort?”

“There is a man named Mikhail Dryke in Entry, with several armed and armored friends, suggesting that we turn you over to him. I thought you might like to be involved in the decision.”

Christopher ran, ignoring the startled stares.

There were six goons in Entry and who knew how many more on the twenty-four-seat Transorbital shuttle docked to tunnel 2. As near as could be told from the monitors, they were carrying splatterguns and shockboxes, both of which could be safely used inside a pressurized space, though there’d been no shooting so far. In all probability, they also carried enough cutters and shape charges to come through the bulkheads and locked doors which presently contained them.