Chapter 9
She was being silly. She knew she was being silly. It was just some weird coping strategy or something. She'd been able to ignore it up to now, well, most of the time she had, anyway. Somehow talking to Rex, or at least saying it out loud, had made it worse, not better. Now she couldn't ignore it.
It was just because they'd been through so much together, just the two of them. They were the last two standing. Maybe it was that... What was it called again? Transparence? Transfers? Transference. That was it. The attraction she'd had for Danny, now that he wasn't here, was being transferred to the only remaining link she had with him. That was it. That made sense. That was a clear, scientific, logical reason for her acting like a silly teenager. If she just made a conscious effort to put her ridiculous infatuation to one side, she would have nothing to worry about. She was a grown woman after all! She had a PhD! She was perfectly in control of her emotions.
Sarah Page walked up to the bannister overlooking the atrium and nodded to herself. That was a plan. Just ignore the infatuation and it would go away. She looked down at the bustling crowd below. She'd obviously missed something while she was out: everyone was busy doing something and that almost never happened! At the centre of the hustle and bustle she spotted Becker and the two new recruits. The captains hair was uncharacteristically ruffled.
Sarah Page gave herself another mental kick and told herself to focus.
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The place was a maze, Danny decided. Every corridor he walked through, every room he entered, they were all almost completely identical. Sometimes, the only difference was in the actual fixtures and fittings, not that there were ever many of those! Hidden lighting illuminated every corner with a uniform white glow. What furniture there was was all a mixture of silver metal and white fabric. Doors slid easily aside as they were approached. The only artwork that adorned the walls were silver sculptures or elaborately cut and framed mirrors.
By far, however, the most bizarre and intriguing development Danny had spotted, so far, was the windows.
At first, they appeared to be made of glass. By putting a hand up to them, though, Danny had found them warm to the touch. The kalif, Hisham, had informed him that they were made using something called plas-tech. Whether the "plas" referred to plastic or plasma, Danny didn't ask: he wasn't sure he'd understand the answer anyway. Whatever it was, the substance was an excellent insulator, remarkably strong, even when thin, and could change from perfectly clear with a refractive index equal to that of air to perfectly opaque at the touch of a button. The button was, of course, pure white and flush with the wall, so it took Danny quite a while to spot it.
As they arrived in yet another white walled room, Hisham explained that they were now at the very outer reaches of his palace enclave. Once outside this area, guards would accompany them wherever they went. Danny was told not to worry, however, as there were only another three hundred levels to go down before they reached the level of the ARC.
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"What's going on?" Sarah asked, walking up to the huddled trio in the middle of the atrium.
Mackenzie and the mouse looked at each other, then at Becker. Sarah saw a flicker of something cross the captain's face just before he turned to her. What was it?
"Doctor Page," Becker began, in that formal tone that told Sarah she wasn't going to like this. "We've just had word from the crew we left at the racetrack anomaly."
"What is it? What's happened? Are they back?" Sarah's eyes widened in hope.
"The anomaly's closed," Becker took a step towards her, away from the others, as he saw the light go out in Sarah's eyes. He moved her over to a nearby chair and sat her down, kneeling next to her with his back to the group. "Sarah, I'm sorry. I couldn't find you when the call came through," he said softly. "We did everything we could to try and reopen it, but it's gone now. Our hands are tied."
Sarah covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, staring blankly off at a point on a desk across the room. After a moment, she dropped the hand and looked up.
"So what's all this then? Why the sudden activity?"
"We've got another one," Becker replied. "It's over in the zoo. There's been no report of panic yet, so we're hoping nothing's come through, but we're taking a full team anyway. You don't have to come: Meg and Grant can handle it."
"He's never seen an anomaly before and I doubt that little chit of a thing could handle a rampaging puppy!" Sarah said harshly.
"They'll have to learn then, won't they," Becker's tone was colder now, sterner. Sarah stood up.
"Fine," she said. "If and when you decide you do need me, I'll be in my office. Or Cutter's."
Becker rose to his feet as Sarah stormed off. Turning, he found Meg waiting patiently where he'd left her. She was looking at a map of the zoo and trying to look like she hadn't heard at least the last part of that exchange.
"I'm quite good with puppies, actually," she said as Becker approached. "It's kittens that don't seem to like me. So scratchy."
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It was difficult to storm out of a room crowded with people, thought Sarah as she made her way through the corridors of the ARC. Difficult, but not impossible. She couldn't take him being nice to her. It was infuriating! The soft voice, the steadying hand, and heaven help her if she dared look down into those eyes! Better she just keep out of his way. They didn't need her on this one anyway. He didn't need her. He'd said so.
Sarah stopped and leant back against the wall, her head in her hands. She wasn't even sure where she was now: the ARC was a maze at the best of times. She breathed deeply and tried to calm down.
As her breathing slowed, she became aware of a voice in the room behind her. It was difficult to make out the words, what with there being a wall in the way and everything, but the voice had a very definite accent. A Scottish accent. Mackenzie! Sarah pressed her ear to the wall and listened.
"It doesn't work like that! Not here. Not yet," said the voice. There was a pause before Mackenzie continued. "I need more time. I've only just got here." Another pause. "When I'm good and ready. You owe me, not the other way round, and don't you forget that!"
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Kiran pulled his poncho up, through the belt that held it together at his waist. In the low city, sanitation was optional. Rock-cut gutters, covered with quarried slabs, carried much of the waste of the city down and out to the marshes, but there was always some, especially in the dark, brick walled alleyways that ran through the low city like a warren.
The low city was exactly what it said it was: the lowest part of the great City, stretching from the bottom of the cloud layer to ground level, out of sight of the high city. In this city, social worth wasn't determined by whether you lived on the east side or the west, the north bank or the south. Instead, it was determined by how high up your dwelling place was. In the low city, amidst the dirt and detritus and stink, lived the low people. People who were not deemed fit enough, or perhaps human enough, to live in the upper reaches. People very, very similar to him.
The people of the low city were generally shorter than those of the high city, albeit still taller than Kiran himself. They had pale skin. Their hair colour and eye colour varied wildly. So to did body shape and the many facial features that people in the high city were so keen to control. People in the low city could marry for love, not genetics.
In the distance ahead of him, Kiran could make out the lights of one of the main thoroughfares, weaving its way through the low city like an artery in the depths of the body. Once he'd reached that, he could pick up the ground shuttle that had been left for him and make his way out to the marshes, and from there to the swamps. He'd need the shuttle for that. It was safer to hover-fly than walk out there. He'd have to be careful, though. Any unauthorised flights out to the swamp farms attracted the attention of the imperial guard. Any by him, a known rebel, would do more than raise elegant eyebrows in the palace.
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The pack was getting heavy and Abby was already on her second branch by the time she finally spotted the light in front of her. Eventually she came to the end of the thread of wool, tied around the burnt branch Connor had obviously used as a torch. She followed the light to the end of the tunnel, then froze.
Across the clearing in front of her was a pile of dry wood. In the middle of the pile sat a very large, very wary looking pteranodon. Sticking out from beneath the end of the pteranodon's outstretched wings was a very human, very recognisable leg. Connor's leg.
Abby caught the pack as is began to slip through her lax fingers, and sank to the ground, shuffling herself and the pack backwards into the tunnel. The torch in her hand burned low and she dropped it, hissing in pain. Blowing on her burnt hand, she placed the pack down quietly and edged forward again. The ancient reptile couldn't stay there all day, surely? Flying around looking for food took energy, especially when you were that size. Surely it would have to go off to hunt soon?
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The waiting had been almost unbearable. She was cold, her legs were cramped, her toes numb all from the inactivity, just sitting and watching and waiting, all day. Now, finally, she had a chance. The beast had flown off, its massive wings hitting Connor's inert body as it took to the air at last. Abby stretched, then half ran, half stumbled her way over to Connor's side.
What was he doing out here? How could he have been so careless? All the questions that had been running though Abby's mind, the questions that she'd dared to ask herself, anyway, were answered as soon as she arrived next to him. The anomaly device in his hand was unmistakable. She dropped to her knees beside him, ignoring the pain that shot up her legs as she did so, and put her hand to his neck. His pulse was there. He was breathing too. Abby let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding and thanked whatever unseen omnipotence had seen fit to keep them alive this far.
"Connor, can you hear me?" Abby whispered in his ear, hoping that dinosaur hearing wasn't as developed as that of modern predators.
No reply.
Glancing up and all around her, Abby decided she had only one option: get him back to the shelter of the tunnels. As carefully as she could, she checked him over for broken bones, then rolled him onto his back. It took her longer than she would have liked to drag Connor's dead weight across the open clearing to the tunnel entrance, but eventually she got him there.
There was no way she could get him all the way back to their camp, not yet, so the shelter provided by a bend in the rock wall would have to make do for now. She couldn't light a fire. The only food she had was the smoked fish and anything that might be in the backpack on Connor's back. She removed it and laid him down gently on the ground. The other water bottle was in there, still half full. She shrugged and poured some of it over his face: it worked in the flat. It worked here too. With a sputtering start, Connor woke up, tried to sit up and immediately groaned and clutched his head.
"Lie still," said Abby quietly. "Tell me where it hurts."
"Everywhere!" Connor moaned loudly.
"Quiet! We don't know what else is out there," Abby hissed.
"I think I could probably give you a list if you've got the time!" Connor muttered, his voice quiet though.
"Maybe later. What happened?"
"Picked a fight with a pteranodon. Lost."
"Yeah, I'd gathered that much Conn," Abby rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching up into an unwilling smile. He really was irrepressible. "Did you fall or were you pushed? You've been out cold for hours, so you must have hit your head, but I can't find any blood, just a lump the size of a turtle egg."
"I think it was its wing," Connor experimentally tried sitting up again, winced, but persevered. "It knocked me over and I banged my head off one of those half trees it's got for its nest out there. I don't know, it happened too fast really."
"You got the anomaly device though," Abby picked it up and handed it to him. "It's Helen's isn't it? Will it work?"
"I don't know, I didn't get a chance to try it," Connor turned the device over in his hands. "There's not much outward damage to it, but who knows what it's like on the inside."
"Can we use it?"
Connor's eyes flicked from the device to Abby's ad back again. Suddenly a grin spread across his face.
"We can try!"
