Chapter 20: A Scattering Regathered

If not for the shielding wall that protected the landing pad from the wind, it might have been dangerous or impossible to start the helicopter. Once the engine was running and the rotors safely whirring, it would be simple to fly, Cooks thought. The wind was blowing in the wrong direction, though: it might take more time to reach South America than he had planned on. Cooks had a friend in Chile. Hadn't seen him for years, but he was still pretty sure he'd be able to land his helicopter on the ranch quietly and depart from there with some forged identity papers. A cop always knew where to get forged papers. Of course, getting there was the tough part. Cook had a map of Brightwater's fuel dumps, and expected to have to make several stops.

"How far does this thing go on a tank of fuel?" he suddenly asked Pollux.

"I have no idea," Pollux said. "You're the pilot."

"You're the genius. I just took a few flying lessons when I was a rookie."

The radio on Cooks's belt suddenly burst into sound. "Cooks, is that you in the helicopter? What do you think you're doing? Shut down the engine at once."

Instead, Cooks raised the collective. The rotor pitch increased, and the helicopter lifted off. When the wind struck the body of the copter, he had to stop the ascent, adjusting the yaw with the pedals. Below he could see security guards running onto the landing pad.

"Did you pass those flying lessons?" Pollux asked nervously.

"Nobody likes a wise guy, Pollux."

"I'm serious!"

There were shots being fired from below. Cooks heard bullets pinging into the body of the helicopter, punching through the aluminum. Ready or not, he thought, and pushed the cyclic forward. The helicopter moved ahead, sinking toward the ice. Pollux yelled in terror as Cooks increased the pitch again, and they bounded back up into the wind. It would be really impressive, Cooks thought, if he crash-landed or rolled over twenty feet from the takeoff point.

Then they left the island behind, flying out over the turbulent sea. The sun had just risen.

They hadn't gone far when Cooks realized he had miscalculated badly. The wind was so fierce that it was driving them sideways, out over the sea, when what he needed was to skirt the Antarctic coast, near the refueling areas. He adjusted his course, but even when he pointed the nose straight for land, he found they were being carried out further.

"This may be a wild ride," he warned Pollux.

"At least nobody's following us," the kid said. "Puncturing the fuel tanks seems to have done the trick. Only…"

"What?"

I—I sort of think one of those bullets hit our fuel tank as well…"

Now that it had been brought to his attention, Cooks could hear a soft gurgling, smell the acrid scent of leaking fuel.

"Irony," he commented. "It'll get you every time."

"You're bleeding."

"Yeah." He had been hoping the boy wouldn't notice for a while. "Have you ever flown a helicopter, Pollux?"

"No. But I sort of know how."

"This might be a good time to get some practice."

"You couldn't wait an hour for us to pick you up?" Dumas asked drily. But he was standing beside Tina, with his hand on her shoulder, and Seth thought he seemed to be a bit more relaxed...as much as Dumas ever relaxed, anyway.

The castaways looked surprisingly well for having spent days in Antarctica unprepared. Now they sat together with Mel. Their ragged, makeshift gear had been replaced with real cold-weather clothing, though in the relative warmth under the insulating canopy that covered the ship, hoods were down, gloves off and facemasks left open.

"You've found no sign of Agi yet?" Soreto asked.

"We believe we may have detected his energy pack at Sei Station," Mel said. "It's a research base operated by Brightwater Industries."

"Yes, we picked that up, too," Soreto said. "We were planning to check it out today, until we heard your transmission."

"That might not be so simple. It's the main control center for the climate regulator band, and there's a lot of security."

"Maybe not as much as usual," Seth said. "There's a whole lot of traffic around the island at the moment. There's even a cruise ship anchored nearby. Something's going on."

"What none of you seem to be considering," said Dumas, "is that the wreckage of our ship is gone. Somebody has taken it, and whoever that was probably found Agi's remains as well."

"Or they may have found him alive," said Soreto, glowering at Dumas as Belle broke into tears.

"We can't leave our wreckage in the hands of Brightwater, at any rate," said Mel. "They like to cling to their reputation as an environmentally progressive organization, but they have at least three unofficial weapons development divisions."

Suddenly, something spidery and huge rose from the sea, its metallic legs tapping the canopy over Seth's head. He yelled and fell backward.

"Bubble!" Tarlant shouted. The canopy was opened, and the robot clambered aboard, followed by Squeak. "I gave them orders when we left to follow your signal."

"They might be useful," said Dumas. "Meanwhile, try and stop them from dripping all over people."

Seth closed the canopy and continued listening as they discussed ideas about how to break into Sei station. The trouble was, nobody had much of a clue what they would be facing. Seth idly glanced at the scanner, wondering if it was possible to zoom in on the station and get a complete layout of the place. In spite of the recent heavy traffic and tourists, nothing seemed to be moving over the sea today but one lonely helicopter.

Seth frowned and turned up the audio reception. He started the hovercraft engine.

"What are you doing?" Dumas demanded.

"Distress signal!" The craft rose from the water and Seth gunned the engine forward. "There's a helicopter going down!"

"So what? It doesn't concern us! We have a mission to-"

"There's nobody else out here but us," Seth said. "It's a little kid, and he says the pilot's unconscious! Maybe you forgot how much fun it is to go swimming around here, but not me."

Dumas tried to wrest the steering controls from Seth, but Tina caught his arm. "Dumas, we have to help!" she said. "Please!"

"Help? How?" Dumas demanded. But he stopped trying to interfere. "You want us to bring these Earth people on our ship?"

"We have to help," Tina repeated. It was not a request this time.

"Listen to her!" Seth said. He increased the speed. Maybe Tina was getting back to being her old self again.

After several minutes at full speed, they could see it. A helicopter flying erratically, barely clearing the tops of the tallest waves. It seemed to have some sort of a pontoon, but only on one side, so Seth guessed it could not make a water landing. One of the climate regulators was visible nearby, and the helicopter seemed to be trying to make it there. Probably because it's the only thing to hang on to, thought Seth, remembering his own experiences.

Three red marks appeared on the scanner display.

"More missiles!" Seth shouted.

Dumas struck a control on the dashboard, and the targeting device for a sonic cannon rose from the deck. For a moment, Seth was afraid Dumas was about to shoot down the helicopter himself, but when Dumas pulled the trigger, two of the missiles exploded in midair.

The third hit the helicopter.

The machine tore apart, sinking quickly under the waves, and without thinking about it, Seth jumped overboard.

The cold water was like knives against his face again, but at least the rest of him was better equipped this time. His hands were encased in insulated gloves, and the hood of his cold-weather bodysuit snugly covered most of his head.

The broken hull of the helicopter was just below the surface, a child and a middle-aged man still strapped in. Seth released their harnesses, pushing them free of the wreck, then kicking to the surface, pulling them with him.

The ship's hoist lifted the three out of the water and levitated them to the deck.

"Idiot," said Dumas. "We could have just pulled the entire helicopter aboard."

Feeling stupid, Seth said, "Well, I saved you the trouble."

"Thank you, Seth," Tina said. "It was very brave." She smiled at him. That made it all worthwhile.

More missiles were firing, this time at the hovercraft, and Dumas used his sonic cannon to explode them before impact, and kept blasting down into the sea until the scanner showed no more missiles in the area, active or inert.

The boy was not hurt, and once he was out of his wet clothes and warmed, he revived. The man was in worse shape.

"Two gunshot wounds, burns and some shrapnel," Mel said, running a medical scan. "Worse, he seems to have advanced stage cancer."

"Can't be helped, then," said Dumas. "Pitch him over the side." Seth glowered at him, as did Mel and Soreto. Seth was sure Dumas wasn't serious, just going out of his way to be a jerk, as usual.

They did their best to help the wounded man. When he was sure there was nothing he could do to help, Seth went to sit next to the boy. He was wrapped in a warm blanket, but still shivering and crying.

"Hey, it'll be all right," Seth said. "If it's possible to save him, they can do it. Is that your dad?"

"No, he's just—he—he was helping me escape."

"Escape? You're a prisoner?"

"No," the boy sniffled. "Not really."

"Then…why did you have to escape?"

"It doesn't matter!" the boy cried. "I have to go back! Back to Sei station! My brother's still there!"

Seth scratched his head. "So, then, is your brother a prisoner?"

"He likes it there."

"But you don't."

"I would rather die than go back," the boy said in such an intense tone that Seth believed it.

"So why go back? You must really love your brother."

"We're twins," the boy said. "Castor and Pollux. Gemini. Like the constellation, we'll always be together."

Seth heard something drop to the deck and shatter. Looking up, he saw Mel staring at the boy, her face gone as pale as ice. She took a step toward him.

"Palza?" Mel said.

Oh, great, Seth thought. Mel has lost it. He could see by their apprehensive expressions that the others shared his reservations.

"Uh, Mel—" said Soreto.

Mel ignored them, kneeling down to stare into the boy's eyes. "Palza?" she said again, more softly. The boy stared back. He looked petrified.

Soreto put a hand on Mel's shoulder, but she didn't move, and neither did the boy.

"Dumas," Soreto said, "Is there any way to…to activate Palza's memory from here?"

"With the memory record at the Rugen institute? We don't have the equipment."

"I have Palza's memory record here," said Mel, pulling it from an inner pocket. "I always carry it with me."

"Of course you do," said Soreto softly.

Mel plugged the crystal into her energy pack. A soft glow radiated the boy's face and faded. The boy stared at her blankly for a minute.

"Mel?" he said then. "Oh, Mel!" He threw his arms around her neck, buried his face in her shoulder and sobbed. The two held each other there, as the others stood silent and the storm winds blew outside.

After a time, someone cleared their throat. "That box, floating out there," said a voice. "Someone's inside it."

Everyone on the boat turned and stared again.

Hasmodai found himself on the deck of a small ship. He seemed to be in the illusion he had chosen from the scanner—his former friends were here—but he didn't understand the scene at all. Mel was kneeling on the floor, hugging a sobbing little boy. Had Gherta Hawksbee had grandchildren? Hasmodai hadn't thought so.

He waited to be noticed, but everyone was fixated on Mel and the boy, which struck Hasmodai as odd, since this was his illusory world. He looked around for more information, and something caught his eye. Out on the waves bobbed an oblong metal box with rounded corners.

Queequeg's coffin, was the thought that crossed Hasmodai's mind.

Curious, he pulled out the old scanner and took a reading. There was somebody alive inside the box. Ishmael? Hasmodai began to wonder if the Enma had actually let him go. This didn't strike him as any fantasy he might have been tempted by, not any of it.

Everyone was still surrounding Mel and the child. Hasmodai cleared his throat. "That box, floating out there. Someone's inside it."

They turned and stared at him silently, as if they were seeing a ghost. Which, he supposed, they were. He had wondered how they would react—if they would welcome him as if nothing had ever happened. If they would beg his forgiveness. He waited.

At last Soreto approached, her expression unreadable. She raised her hand and…

And slashed him through the heart with the Enma blade.

Hasmodai clutched at his chest reflexively, though he had not been harmed by the blow.

"Hasmodai, it's really you," said Soreto, but there was a strange, lost expression in her eyes.

"You look…disappointed."

"Not to see you, Hasmodai," Soreto said. "Never to see you." She approached him, reached out to him.

Hasmodai flinched from her touch and backed away. He had no idea what was real anymore, and only wanted something to start making sense. Then Belle hurled herself into him so hard he dropped the scanner, throwing her arms around his body and crying. "I'm so sorry, Hasmodai," she sobbed. Hasmodai began to think this might not be an illusion, because his ribs and back hurt terribly.

"Uh, Belle, I think you'd better ease off," said Soreto. "I'm not sure Hasmodai has recovered from the crash yet."

"Where have you been?" Tarlant demanded.

"Sleeping Beauty's castle," Hasmodai said coldly.

Tarlant looked at Soreto. "How hard did you say he hit his head?"

Dumas and Seth, apparently less interested in Hasmodai's resurrection, had pulled the coffin aboard and opened it.

"It's Agi!" Seth shouted, and Belle's anaconda-like embrace released so suddenly that Hasmodai nearly fell over. Tarlant tried to steady him, but Hasmodai struck his hand away.

If this was an illusion, they were all only Enma bent on luring him to death or forgetfulness.

If this was real, they had abandoned him to die.

Worse, if it was real, then the Atalanta had possibly been real as well. And he had been the stupidest, bone-headedest, most pea-brained, merciless, monstrous idiot on the face of the planet.

Agi sat on the dark, silent shore. The dark waves ran up the sand and ran down again. Nothing else moved. Nothing else changed.

Except…he could hear them now. He could hear the voices of his friends, far away and indistinct, calling his name.

They were coming to him. They would always come to him. They always followed him.

And he would lead them where they needed to go. It would not be long now.