Chapter 5
Author's Note: Thanks to my readers for their patience. A very special dedication on this one to C., in the hopes that you'll especially enjoy this chapter.
"Good morning, Miss Delacourt."
Lorelei groaned and pulled up the covers up over her head. She knew that voice issuing from her bedside comm. She'd overslept again. That always seemed to happen the morning after an argument with her aunt.
"G'morning, Mr. Smith," she murmured into the device, knowing that ignoring him, or worse, not showing the proper courtesy, would mean extra laps around the track during their training session. "Sorry about that. I'll get changed and meet you at the training center, 'kay?"
One thing she liked about Garrett Smith: he never seemed to get upset, even at her many shortcomings and quirks. "Very well. I'll see you soon," he said, and the transmission ended.
It had been a long eight hours or so since the night previous, even if Lorelei had barely slept. She'd spent the majority of that time sending text after desperate text to her secret pen pal, the mysterious J.F. Drake. He was normally like a guardian angel; someone she could talk to whenever no one else, even Garrett, seemed to understand. He was also the only one she'd continued to talk to about her nighttime visitor (who, last night, had mercifully not shown up.)
Whatever Drake had been doing last night (she often fantasized about his being some kind of secret agent, because he was forbidden to talk about work), it must have been important, because he hadn't responded to her urgent message. That wasn't like him. That left Lorelei only a few options: to take more swings at her bed frame with the wooden bokken, brood, then try, without much success, to sleep. Both had left her restless and moody. So it was that she awoke the same way she'd gone to bed the night before: irritable, tired, and without the answers she needed.
I hope, thought Lorelei, moving behind her painted Japanese silk changing screen to put on the freshly laundered training garb Amelie had put out for her, I can get a nap in today. Not with Mr. Smith, but maybe during Madame Gruenewald's class. She grinned. The Latin mistress' dry lectures would have put anyone to sleep.
As she pulled the soft, loose white tunic over her head, Lorelei thought for a moment of Tante Jessica. She would have already left the house, of course, which meant any chance for an apology would have to wait until dinner that night, if not later. Lorelei's days started early, and Tante Jessica's began even earlier. She was, as she never tired of pointing out, responsible for the safety of each and every person on the torus. Even Lorelei could appreciate the importance of that, kind of.
Amelie, her attendant droid, entered the room almost soundlessly. Lorelei neither liked nor disliked her. She was a droid, a servant, and although Lorelei had enjoyed some fun with her (the time I changed her voice to sound like that old Donald Duck cartoon's, now that was great), Amelie, unlike some of the other Elysians' personal servants, had never been a friend or even a confidante. Since she was currently muted thanks to Lorelei's tinkering, she simply went about her routine: making the bed, tidying the night table, and making ready Lorelei's things.
Lorelei finished pulling on her boots with a determined grimace. Part of her hated getting up so early; she'd never been a morning person, and her schoolmates wouldn't be getting up until well after the artificial sunrise. And then there was the other part of her, the part that enjoyed the discipline, order, and routine that her sessions with Mr. Smith had brought to her often unpredictable life. Sometimes they even made her forget the gaping hole in her memories where a part of her childhood should have been stored.
That's what Dr. Perrine is supposed to help me with. Some help she's been. Lorelei scowled at the thought of her aloof therapist, whom she'd also be seeing today. Aunt Jessica's orders for the last five years.
She made her way down the corridors of the immense estate, thinking of the things she'd said last night. You're acting so immature, Lorelei could imagine her aunt saying in that frosty, accented voice. Almost as if she were taunting.
"I am immature. I'm ten," said Lorelei out loud as she passed the solarium, as if to remind herself of that fact. So much had already been put upon her narrow shoulders: her lessons and the expectations that came with them, plus the immense burden of merely carrying the Delacourt name. Esme and Anila liked to tease her about being the "Princess of Elysium." Lorelei had since come to disdain the pink, sparkling, ruffled trappings of her earlier years, but they had a point. Her life was sort of like being a princess, at least the princesses she'd read about in her history class. People were always telling her what to do, where to go, how to dress. They never bothered to ask her opinions on the subject.
Well, except her friends. They actually cared…and listened. Mr. Smith, too, even if his reaction, a blank wall, was always the same.
No sign of Aunt Jessica anywhere in the house. Lorelei didn't even bother asking one of the droids. They were supposed to cook her meals, make sure she made it safely to school, clean her room…not look after her like she was a baby. A long time ago, Lorelei had gotten just as annoyed with the rest of the household staff as with Amelie, and reprogrammed them accordingly to leave her alone.
The last thing she had expected to see in the enormous foyer was another live person, so, when she spotted Garrett Smith, nattily dressed as always and waiting for her, Lorelei froze. He only rarely visited her at home, and when he did, the news was either very good or very bad. "Good morning, Mr. Smith," she called out, knowing he had already seen her. "Sorry I slept in," she added somewhat sheepishly.
"And a good morning to you." His stoic expression barely changed as she came down the staircase. That was another thing he'd been trying so hard to teach her: how to control her emotions. If your enemy knows what you are feeling, he has won half the battle already, he'd once told her. Lorelei may have been a natural in the sims and a whiz at hacking, but control was a skill she sorely lacked. In some ways she admired Mr. Smith for it; other times she wished he'd stop being such a blank slate. Even Aunt Jessica showed more emotion than that. "Shall we?" he asked her as she approached him, hefting her satchel over her shoulder.
Lorelei was confused. "Shall we what, Mr. Smith?" she asked him. She'd planned on taking the auto-programmed aircar to the training center where they normally worked together, and his physical presence troubled her for some reason. "Did I…do something wrong?" she probed, hoping to get at least some clue out of him.
A flicker of something…amusement, perhaps…played across the tall man's lips. "Quite the opposite. We'll be training somewhere else today. Let's just say you're ready for a new challenge," he said, gesturing to the front door.
He was lying, Lorelei knew somehow. There was no telling why, and she knew asking would be pointless, so she decided to let it go for now. That was the one thing all the adults in her life had in common: they only told her what they felt she needed to know. "Cool. Where is it?" She tried to sound excited.
"You'll see."
~~s~~
She'd been on hundreds of shuttle rides in her short life, and yet every one of them seemed like a fresh adventure. While Garrett Smith sat in his leather chair aboard his sleek personal Lagonda craft, catching up on his holo-reader, Lorelei pressed her face to the window, admiring not just the mansions of the torus but also the glowing, shimmering sphere of Earth just beyond. It wasn't quite the same as her nighttime viewing sessions, for sure; even so she was fascinated as she always had been.
"You're not playing with your comm pad," Mr. Smith said dryly, his dark eyes hardly moving from his reading. "Why is that, Miss Delacourt? Did you forget it?"
She hadn't; it was stuffed into the very bottom of her satchel. That had been one of the hardest things to keep secret from him: her five years' worth of secret correspondences with J.F. Drake. Inside, she was itching to check it, to see if somehow Drake had written back and given her some helpful advice for her predicament. "Um, I guess I did. I was really looking forward to training today," she said as casually as she could.
Mr. Smith blinked up at her. "Maybe so, or did you just have another argument with your aunt last night? You look as though you haven't slept at all."
How he always managed to intuitively know these things, Lorelei had never been able to figure out. Maybe they both talked about her when she was asleep. "Yeah," she sighed, "she's always trying to make me do things I don't want to do, boss me around, you know?" Lorelei turned her face away, not wanting him to see the tears that sprang to her eyes.
He put down the reader and leaned in close to her. "She only wants what's best for you," he said gently, "as do I. You have to know that, Lorelei."
That almost never happened, him using her first name like that. She was always "Miss Delacourt" to him, just as he was "Mr. Smith" to her. Maybe there was a warm heart in there after all…she'd guessed that out of the three main adults in her life, he was the safest bet there…and at the same time, there was that aloofness, the carefully constructed façade to keep hidden everything underneath. In a lot of ways, I guess I do that too,she decided. "I guess so," she agreed, not really feeling the words. She really wished she could go back to bed, pull up the covers, and hide from the world for a day. For the first time in a long time, Lorelei wasn't looking forward to a session in the sims. "Why does she have to be," she added, not caring to drop her annoyance with her aunt just yet, "so weird? You know?"
She felt his warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder; if Aunt Jessica's touch were like ice, then his had always been warm like a thermal spring. He even smiled. "I've known your aunt for a long time, and you know what?"
"What?" Lorelei was intrigued despite herself; she didn't know the adults' real ages, since they never talked about it, and everyone on the torus looked about the same age to her.
"She was always a hard worker, driven, though I'd never have ranked warmth highly on her list of positive traits," Mr. Smith said with the tiniest hint of a smirk. "But I don't need to tell you that, do I?"
It was her turn to laugh. "I watched an old Earth cartoon one time about a queen who could turn things into ice and snow, and shewas warmer than Aunt Jessica is sometimes," she chuckled.
The aircar had glided almost soundlessly to a halt; in the moment of levity Lorelei had almost forgotten the comm pad in her bag, and her anxiety over the events of the previous day. Almost. "I promise I won't tell Aunt Jessica about what you just said, Mr. Smith," she said as the safety harness lifted automatically.
"I'd appreciate if you didn't." He winked, then likewise got up from his seat, stretching like a big cat. "Let's get you inside."
Lorelei looked out the window. This place was strange to her; a nondescript concrete building which looked more like an emergency bunker than one of the normal CCB training facilities. "Which sector are we in, anyway?" she asked. Normally she followed the track of their flight on her comm or by visual reckoning, but she had stashed away the device, and they'd been too busy talking for her to pay attention to their surroundings.
As the hatch opened with the barest hydraulic hiss, Mr. Smith did something Lorelei was not used to seeing him do, although he was always vigilant. He drew his silver pistol, the one she knew he kept tucked inside the shoulder holster he always wore. And there was something else that set her alarm bells off: no security droids, Homeland or otherwise, guarded this building. Normally there were at least a pair of them at every entrance, and this place looked completely deserted.
"Um, is everything okay, Mr. Smith?" Lorelei asked nervously.
The big man looked all around himself and the landing pad, a full circle sweep, then beckoned for her to step outside the vehicle. "Yes," he said, and the certainty in that single word boosted her confidence. She knew that, in addition to his already sharp senses, the metal implants in Mr. Smith's cheeks and temples let him see, and hear, even farther than most people, though she'd never thought to ask him the exact nature of their functions. "Come on, Miss Delacourt. We're behind schedule already."
Still, that slight hesitation told her there was something he was leaving out. Lorelei decided to follow her instinct, and stayed silent. I don't know why grown-ups think kids can't handle the truth,she thought, hefting her bag over one shoulder.Why they'd rather lie to us.
It was all she could do not to pull out her comm pad for a quick look-see, but as she'd come to learn about Mr. Smith, he also seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, perhaps another special feature of those facial implants. Lorelei mustered her restraint and walked on toward the bunker.
~~s~~
It wasn't even 0700 yet and already Lorelei had worked herself up to a sweat. Though the drills had been largely the same as they always were, Mr. Smith had been good to his word. There had been a few more new challenges thrown in there, and Lorelei had thrown herself into them with gusto. Any trace of lingering fatigue was gone. As she greedily sucked down some of her vita-water from a plastic bottle, she reminded herself that she still had a full day of dull classroom lessons ahead of her. At least she'd be seeing her friends. Maybe they'd have something useful to tell her.
Lorelei pictured them, and heard their voices, in her mind as she gathered her things to take to the dressing room for a shower. Anila, of course, would urge her to directly confront the adults, badger them until they gave her the information they wanted. If there was anyone on the torus more of a go-getter than the fiery, opinionated Anila Patel, Lorelei didn't know who it might be. On the other hand, Esme would probably just do what she always did, and stay quiet on the matter. You can observe a lot just by watching,the other girl had once said. That's what my father says, or at least some old baseball player on Earth did, and Dad just quoted him.
The trouble was, Lorelei realized as she pulled off her sweaty boots, that she was neither as assertive as Anila nor as much a wallflower as sweet, shy Esme. There were times when she wanted to tie her aunt, Mr. Smith, and Dr. Perrine to chairs, hold hot irons to their feet, and demand that they fill in the yawning gaps in her memories. Other days she just wanted to be left alone in her room, playing with her comm, hacking into places she shouldn't, brooding over how unfair life could be even if you had everything you needed and more.
Everything,she thought as she rather violently undid her ponytail, except the truth.
Inside the spacious locker room, as usual, Lorelei was the only person present, though she always had the uncanny sense she was being watched. That's silly,she wanted to believe, though she knew, from plenty of experience, that hidden cameras, some of them tiny, were literally everywhere on the torus, and though she also wanted to believe that a place like this was a sanctuary, she also knew better than that. What was creepier, she wondered, having the boogeyman in his dark cloak come to stare at her at her bedside, or the prospect of some bored techie looking in on her from the CCB control room? Luckily, whenever she had detected the presence of a camera, Lorelei had devised a simple but clever scrambling app that would deter any would-be Peeping Toms. All they'd see was static while the app was in place. That being said, all she had in here was that strange feeling, like a cold finger running up and down her spine.
I wonder,Lorelei thought as she finished dressing in her neatly pressed school uniform, if the boogeyman doesn't just look in on me at night? Whether he watches me during the day somehow too?
The morbidly curious side of her actually wondered where he'd been these past few nights. She'd never gone more than a week without one of his nocturnal visits, and in her own way, had come to crave the shared connection between then just as much as she likewise feared him. More discussion fodder for Dr. Perine…Lorelei winced at the thought of it…if she actually had bothered to confide in her therapist anymore.
The one person she could confide in was just outside, Lorelei knew, standing sentry as he always did. Mr. Smith was perhaps the one person who really respected her privacy. Today, though, he was not at his usual close-but-discreet distance as she exited the changing room. Maybe he'd gone to the bathroom, although, she suddenly realized, she'd never seen him do that either.
"Hello? Mr. Smith?" Lorelei called out, noticing how her voice failed to echo in this underground chamber. Shrugging, she decided to go look for him, remembering where she'd seen the toilets on the way in. He may have been the most stoic man she knew, but everyone had to go eventually, even him.
She'd only gotten halfway down the long corridor when she heard his voice, low and conspiratorial, like he was talking to someone. Even from where she was, Lorelei got the impression she was hearing only one side of it, that he was speaking to someone on a holo-screen or a comm. Instinctively she also knew that this wasn't supposed to be something she listened to, though the same side of her that longed for the boogeyman's return propelled her onward, edging closer to the source of Mr. Smith's voice on cat's feet.
"…because, as I said, we can't take any chances," Lorelei heard him saying, his voice calm and unruffled as always. "Yes, I'm keeping a close watch on Syren, you know that." A pause, and his tone turned slightly flustered. "You know as well as I that I'd inform you of the slightestabnormality, the tiniest whisper of trouble…"
Lorelei didn't know what he was talking about…it was another of his top-secret agent conversations, probably…yet she was intrigued. Courage, and sheer interest, overrode logic, and she peeked her blond head an inch or so around the open doorway. Mr. Smith was indeed talking on his wrist comm, pacing back and forth in the small room like an agitated bear. Lorelei had never been great at reading people, but she could tell something was bothering him. He spoke directly into the device.
"I have to cut this short, as I never know who might be listening these days. I will keep you abreast. Smith out."
Quickly Lorelei pulled back, her heart in her throat. Had he seen her? Smelled her, perhaps? She'd come to think of Mr. Smith as a kind of ninja like in those old stories, and no ability he possessed, even a supernatural ability, would have surprised her anymore. What would she say to him if he asked why she was eavesdropping? She thought of something quickly, and, lame though it was, it would have to do.
"Oh, there you are, Mr. Smith," Lorelei said, poking her head around the door and plastering a fake smile on her face. "I, um, got lost on the way to the restroom, and I just heard your voice." Yeah, pretty stupid, all right.
To her great surprise and relief, he just smiled serenely. "No need to apologize at all. This is a new facility for you, and you saw what the layout is like. Even I got lost in here once," he conceded, pulling his jacket sleeve back over his comm. "Are you ready for me to take you to school?"
"Yeah." She wanted to exhale her relief, but held back. He either hadn't seen her, or he was a terrific actor. Probably the latter, considering the kind of poker face he had. Still, she couldn't help try and extract at least a nugget of information from him. "Were you on the phone with somebody? I didn't mean to interrupt," she said, using a favorite tactic of her aunt's. When you want something, always act like you're sorry.
There was that brief moment of hesitation on his features again, a lightning flash across an otherwise cloudless sky. "It's nothing," Mr. Smith said, "just routine business. I wouldn't want to bore you, Miss Delacourt."
"No, I guess not," said Lorelei, though the hundred questions she'd wanted to ask him before had now multiplied to a thousand. Whatever he'd been talking about, it wasimportant, and it probably involved her. "Can we go now? I'm getting a little claustrophobic in here," she added, and that much was true. This training facility was sublevel, and had none of the open space of their usual venue.
"Of course. Do you have your things?"
What aren't you telling me?Lorelei wondered as she slung her pack across her back. And how deep am I going to have to hack this time to find out?
~~s~~
"I bet it's the plague."
"Which one?"
"Who cares? Aplague. The kind that makes your skin turn green, and then into a zombie," Anila Patel explained, sticking her slender, coppery arms in front of her for emphasis and moaning comically.
"There's no such thing as zombies," Esme Talbert protested in her prim RP. "I know. My grandfather is a biochemist and he says it's all nonsense."
School was finally out for the day, and Lorelei, Anila and Esme were tracking their way through the adjacent hedge gardens, Garrett Smith trailing at a discreet distance. Though she was relaxed in the presence of her two closest friends, Lorelei knew she had to be careful what she said. Mr. Smith would hear…and report…every word to her aunt and Dr. Perine. The three girls had speculated on the added security that day, double the number of droids patrolling the grounds and an unexpected safety evacuation drill in the middle of the afternoon.
"It's probably just the Fete d'Automnecoming up.You know, how 'anyone who's anyone will be there,'" Lorelei said in a stiff imitation of her aunt's Quebecois. "And it's a masquerade this year, so everyone will be in disguise. They'd have to need extra security for that."
Anila snorted. "Don't remind me. Ammastill is badgering me to choose a costume," she said, "and she wants Sanjay to dress as Mahatma Gandhi. I told her, let him have the silly loincloth if he likes, but I have more dignity than to wear something like that."
"Gandhi was the one of the greatest leaders of the twentieth century," Esme said. "Show some respect."
"He may have been, but he was funny-looking and he drank his own urine."
"You are so vulgar, Anila."
Lorelei laughed half-heartedly, but her mind really wasn't on the ball or even what costume she might wear. All these things were happening at once: the boogeyman's absence, the eerie silence from J.F. Drake, Mr. Smith's enigmatic conversations, the stepped-up security. It was like having a box full of puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit, yet desperately needed to form some greater picture. They hadto be tied together, didn't they? As Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, there was no such thing as true coincidence. And nobody was willing to give her any answers, or even a clue. Lorelei scowled as she walked the well-tended path, kicking at a rock in her way.
"So what are you dressing as, Lorelei?" Esme asked her hopefully. Unlike the other two, she had always been fully invested in the idea that the right clothes and shoes were the main keys to success in life.
She hadn't given it much thought, but she said the very first thing that popped into her mind, without even thinking. "I think I'll be a mercenary," Lorelei said, a sly smile creeping over her features. "You know, like one of those super-secret CCB agents?"
Anila and Esme stopped mid-stride to stare at her.
"What?" Lorelei shrugged. "I already sort of dress like them, you know, when I do my physical training," she explained, tilting her head to indicate Mr. Smith behind her. "It's an easy costume: fatigues, boots…"
"Your aunt would be upset," Anila said solemnly, her dark almond eyes sparkling with mischief. "Whatever would she say?"
"I bet she'd ground you for a month," added Esme.
Lorelei stopped to consider this. She'd been grounded for far less grievous offenses before, and it might actually be fun to see the expression on Aunt Jessica's face in front of all the most important people on Elysium. It was a thought, at least. "Or maybe," she said dramatically, raising her own arms and pretending to menace her friends, "I'll just be really scary, and dress as a zommmmbiieeeee," she announced, moaning out the word as if she really had just become an undead version of herself.
That was too much; the three of them, even Esme, dissolved into fits of giggles. It was sorely needed after a couple of long, dry lectures on World War I and Latin irregular verbs that afternoon.
On her back, Lorelei felt a slight vibration through her pack. For a moment she wondered if Anila had set her up with some wild prank again, then realized it was her faithful old Dragonfly pad at the bottom of her bag, the one she'd stuffed down in there before leaving home that morning. She'd been so preoccupied she'd all but forgotten about it. Now, though, Lorelei could feel her heart thumping. One long followed by two shorts and another long, was the notification from one very specific person.
"I laughed so hard I have to pee," she said to her friends, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes for effect. "Be right back, okay?"
"Be careful of zombies. I hear they like to hide in the toilets," Anila warned.
"They do not," Lorelei heard Esme say as she turned to leave. "They're not even real…"
Turning back toward the school, and the one place she was sure she'd have at least a few minutes of privacy, Lorelei nearly ran into Mr. Smith, who had been following perhaps twenty feet behind them. "Are you quite all right, Miss Delacourt?" he asked her, kneeling down so that they were nearly at eye level. "Did you forget something?"
It was the way he asked it, like there was some hidden meaning in his words, that made her swallow hard. With him, nothing was ever as it seemed; an entire reef of lively creatures lived beneath those still, calm waters. "No, Mr. Smith. I, um, just need to go to the restroom again," Lorelei said, hoping she sounded genuine.
"Very well. I'll wait outside for you."
It was only a short distance back to school, and yet Lorelei felt that same heady mix of excitement and dread she normally reserved for the hooded man himself. J.F. Drake had finally written her back. What had he said? What sort of news, or advice, had she gotten from him?
She didn't dare pull out her comm pad, or even take off her backpack, until she'd safely locked herself into the farthest stall from the door inside the girls' bathroom. Yes, perhaps she was being watched even in here, but Lorelei knew she didn't have a choice. Besides, her curiosity was burning now. She had to know. With trembling hands, she pulled the old but venerable device from the bottom of her bag and unlocked it to receive the text message. When she finally read it, she didn't know whether to be disappointed or not. It was short, as if Drake had been in a great hurry when he wrote it.
Coming up next few days for extra security. Maybe you and I will finally meet.
After a moment, Lorelei realized she had been holding her breath, and exhaled deeply. Was that all? Nothing about an answer to her questions, or a bit of advice on dealing with her aunt? She scrolled through again, looking for anything. It didn't come.
Knowing her time in here was short, since there was only so long Mr. Smith would wait without assuming she'd somehow fallen in, Lorelei texted back rapidly, fingers flying.
I don't even know what you look like. And we have the masquerade next week, is that what you mean? How will I know it's you?
She clicked "send," then waited for what seemed like an eternity, pacing the tight confines of the stall. When at last the pad did vibrate its alert again, Lorelei read what it said. It was a single line. She felt her heart frantically galloping.
Oh, I think you'll know me when you see me.
To Be Continued