AbductiCon (9 page)

“We’re
working
on it,” Andie Mae said. “And good God. Like I’ve got the spoons to go on stage for Opening Ceremonies right now…”

“Work quickly,” Dave said. “Come on, Zach. Let’s get acquainted, you and I. You can tell me what Bob and Helen over there are filling Libby’s head with right now. Let’s go. I would be really surprised if there weren’t fires out there to be put out already, Luke – you’re just going to give yourself a heart attack staying up here. Come on down with us, and man the front office. Someone’s got to do it. I promise we’ll keep you posted.”

“Right,” Luke said faintly. “Absolutely.”

He followed Dave and Zach out like a sacrificial lamb. He might have said something to Libby about being a ‘sci fi’ fan – but this was far too much sci fi for him to assimilate, when it was all around him, and every impossible thing he saw or heard was now the stark reality he had to deal with from a position of authority. An hour ago he had been relishing his promotion to the Night Manager position – in charge, by himself, for the first time ever, of the entire hotel and a large convention, holding down the fort over what was at least in theory supposed to be the quiet time during the dead of night, until the more experienced day team took over again in the morning. Everything had changed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. And if he wasn’t questioning his career choices, exactly, it was only because his brain had momentarily frozen in gibber mode and he wasn’t fully capable of a complete and wholly rational thought.

The con seemed to be in party mode, just gearing up for things. Once Dave and Zach had disposed of Luke in his office and emerged into the lobby of the hotel, Dave took a moment to peer into the ballroom where the Opening Ceremonies event was supposed to be set. A couple of people were working on the sound system in the room, and the troupe of belly dancers who were supposed to be the opening act were already in costume and on the stage, apparently doing a last–minute run through their routine. One of them wore a large python draped over her shoulders and Dave frowned, making a mental note to find out (even if it was minutes before the thing started) whether the snake’s presence was actually sanctioned there. But right now that was the least of his problems.

The second, smaller ballroom – the one designated for the gamers – was quietly intense when Dave did his duty stop there. The people sitting around tables shaking dice in their cupped hands didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. Well,
they
, at least, weren’t going to kick up a fuss; Dave doubted if any of them had even been outside the room since they got there, or were even aware that the room wasn’t in the same place that it had been when they had entered it.

In the registration area there was still a line of stragglers waiting to register and sort out last–minute problems. Dave noticed with approval that someone had had the presence of mind to draw the curtains across all the large plate glass windows behind the registration desks; they were flimsy see–through lacy things and probably weren’t much by way of protection when it came to seeing what was going on outside, but their very presence simply made everyone look away from the windows, which was the important thing right now. Distract and keep occupied, at least for another hour or so. Until they had a chance to get everyone informed as to the situation.

At which point, Dave told himself, he would probably be looking back on these moments as the last precious instant of a halcyon peace.

The main entrance area didn’t have curtains and did have large areas of open glass, with the lights on the portico roof over the hotel’s front doors spilling onto the tarmac just outside… and rather pointedly disappearing into darkness not too far from that. But Simon and the hotel security had people wearing badges of authority strategically scattered around the area. Dave saw at least one woman who had wanted to step outside being politely but firmly shepherded back into the lobby. People weren’t panicking yet, or taking umbrage – Dave didn’t know what the cover story was, but so far it was working. It wasn’t going to stay working for long.

And then he spotted the first real trouble.

Vince Silverman, the writer Guest of Honor, was lounging on the front desk counter while his wife – what was her name? Angela? Angel? Dave racked his brain for the names scribbled on his card at the airport – was remonstrating with a reception clerk who looked on the verge of giving in to the vapors.

“Into the breach,” Dave muttered to himself. “Come on, Zach. Let me introduce you to one of our VIPs…”

Zach kept up with him precisely as Dave sidled up to the reception counter.

“Hi, Dave Lorne, hotel liaison. I was the one who was supposed to meet you at the airport, Mr Silverman. My apologies for the snafu. Is there a problem…?”

“My wife wished to go down to the swimming pool,” Vince Silverman said, “but apparently there was some sort of goon at the door who turned her away – there was some sort of problem, but nobody seems to be able to tell us precisely why my wife can’t have her swim…”

“I’ll handle this, thank you – ” Dave consulted the name tag on the receptionist’s vest – “Sal. It’s fine. Has Luke Barnes spoken to you yet?”

The girl managed to nod her head and give it a small shake at the same time.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dave said. “Mr. Silverman, might I have a word….?”

“Look,” Vince Silverman said, “I can see that there is
something
strange going down – and I can appreciate trying to limit collateral damage. I can probably distract Angel with something else. But I really would like to know what’s going on.”

“In a nutshell, and this is going to sound utterly insane but do bear with me, we have technically left what you might consider to be terra firma and actually all of Terra, as it were, and we’re presently hurtling towards the Moon at an unknown speed. We’re preparing a statement, but this entire hotel has been, uhm, commandeered. By a posse of what seem to be androids from somewhere far far away and a long long time from now. And when they, um, took the hotel itself, they neglected to bring the pool along, as far as I have been informed. Which means that your wife’s intended swim is rather a lot further away than she currently realizes.”

Vince stared at Dave through narrowed eyes. “Androids. From the future. Is this some sort of pre–Opening Ceremonies con thing?”

“Actually, no. We had planned what we do think is a nifty Opening Ceremonies program, but this we can’t take the credit for, alas. Our con Chair may be known as the Steel Magnolia or She Who Must Be Obeyed for a good reason, but even she doesn’t have the pull to bring in androids from outer space to star in her con ceremonies.”

“You aren’t feeding me a line of bull here…?”

“May I introduce you to Zach,” Dave said, gesturing to his silent companion.

Vince’s eyes flickered to Zach’s face, then back to Dave, then a double take back to Zach. “You’re telling me
this
is…”

“So far, we’ve found four of them, or more precisely, they kind of found us,” Dave said. “A couple of this guy’s colleagues are upstairs in the control room right now mashing up a Friday Night Con Newsletter with the happy news and a lot of dire warnings – the reason security isn’t letting anyone out for a walk outside is that currently there
is
no outside, technically, because this building that we’re in and a narrow strip of land that was just around it is all that there is out there right now.”

“Show me,” Vince said abruptly. And then, turning back to his wife, “Angel, the swim really is deferred. There’s a problem with the pool. Hang on here for a second, would you? Dave wants to show me something, I’ll be right back.”

“Zach, would you wait here?” Dave said, and stepped away from the front desk, gesturing for Vince to precede him.

The broad–shouldered young man at the hotel’s front door, dressed like a Viking, was one of the con’s own security team; he knew Dave, but still he raised an arm to stop him as he approached the entrance area.

“Hey, wait – they said…”

“It’s all right,” Dave said. “We’re fine. We’ll just be taking a step outside. I promise you nothing bad will happen.” He gave a small toss of his head in Vince’s direction. “It’s our Guest of Honor. Gotta keep him happy. ”

“Simon said, don’t let anyone out there, but I guess you know what he knows,” the security Viking said hesitantly. “I guess it’s okay.”

“Just don’t let anyone follow us,” Dave said.

“Got it. Uh, be careful.”

“Come on, Mr. Silverman.”

They slipped as unobtrusively as they could through the front door and out into the overhang of the portico, and then Dave took a few careful paces to one side with Vince Silverman warily following until they both stood only a few steps away from an edge which gave into a black void. Somewhere to their right the waning moon looked rather larger than it had any right to be – but Dave wasn’t at all certain that this wasn’t just a psychological aberration.

“Far
out
,” Vince breathed. “Wow. This is… this is just… beyond… Are we still in the atmosphere? How is there air?”

“They spoke of some sort of… force field or something… it’s holding all of us in, else we’d go flying off into the black beyond if we hit a point where gravity becomes an issue.”

“How are they
doing
all this?”

“They, um, they tried to explain and they said they’re willing to explain it all again, but it sounds like they’re trying to explain differential calculus to a cat,” Dave said.

“Perhaps I could sit in,” Vince said. “I wasn’t at all sure that coming here – especially with everything as last minute as it was – would be such a great idea but now, now, Jesus H. Christ, people, you’re practically writing my next novel for me as we speak. I want to talk to these critters you’ve got stashed away.”

“They’ll all be at the Opening Ceremonies,” Dave said. “And they’re about to go on, very shortly.”

“Well, that gives me the perfect excuse to get Angel’s mind off the pool, for now,” Vince said. “I’ll whisk her away so she can start getting ready for the gala. Come on then – I could stand out here for hours, but it sounds like both of us have a deadline to meet.”

Ξ

Back in the Con Ops room, things were heating up.

“Why on earth did I think that Opening Ceremonies at 10 PM were going to be such a good idea?” Andie Mae said, gnawing at her lower lip.

“Because only the doughty few come to those anyway, and you thought that if you made it the Event of the Night more might turn up?” Xander suggested. “It was a good idea. I don’t know if that will work in our favor, now, but it was still a good idea. But we do need a way to get those leaflets to everybody, not just the Opening Ceremonies gang. Maybe we could rig up a sort of a table or something with a large neon sign saying TAKE ONE OF THESE RIGHT NOW IT’S LIFE OR DEATH…”

Jess Sellers snorted. “Oh, that’s going to improve morale.”

“Just a simple DON’T PANIC will do,” Libby said, with a grin she couldn’t quite help.

“We can do that,” Boss said unexpectedly. “If you put a stack of these out in a place where they can be accessed, we can make a hologram – ”

“Of course you can,” Andie Mae said. “Okay, I have to go get changed, we’re almost due down for the ceremonies – is somebody looking after our movie star? He needs to be down there,
now.
Send a sheepdog.
And you,
Boss, you’re coming right along, and I’m going to point at you and laugh or cry – I just haven’t decided which yet – and tell everyone it’s all your fault. Get those things
done
, Libby, we’re running out of time…”

“They
are
done,” Libby said. “Printing now. Take a look.”

Andie Mae stepped over to the printer and picked up a single sheet of the newly headlined Friday night con newsletter, printed on eye–wateringly bright pink paper.

“And whose bright idea,” Andie Mae said, “was
that?
”

“I would have used red, red for danger, you know, but we don’t have red paper handy, and it isn’t as if we can pop out and get a couple of reams of it just now,” Libby said. “We happened to have a whole pile of the pink. Don’t ask. It seemed like a good idea to somebody at the time, I guess, or we just got it cheap. And besides, the print would show up worse on the red.”

“No…
this
.” Andie Mae’s finger hovered over the top of the page.

Libby picked up the newsletter sheet, her cheeks going almost as bright a pink as her newsletter’s paper. “Er, mine, actually,” she said.

She looked up, met Andie Mae’s eyes, and then they both lost it completely, Andie Mae laughing so hard that she literally staggered back a couple of steps to collapse onto a convenient empty chair, giggling helplessly into her hands. Part of it was mirth, another part was pure hysteria at the turn of events, but all of a sudden it was a matter of finding the situation fit for either laughter or for tears.

“I love it,” Andie Mae managed to get out at last, gasping for breath. “How utterly perfect. These are going to be fucking
collectibles
, if we ever live to tell the tale.”

She’d wanted a unique convention, she’d wanted to leave her mark, to be remembered for this – and although the situation that they found themselves in was hardly of her own devising it was definitely going to work as far as achieving that particular goal was concerned. Nobody who had been at this con, Andie Mae’s maiden voyage as con Chair, would forget the experience – and now the headline of the newsletter had summed it all up in one neat little phrase.

WELCOME TO ABDUCTICON.

This was nothing at all like Andie Mae had planned, nothing like the thing she had looked forward to and dreamed about – when she would step out onto that stage and take control and announce
her own con
and get the applause of the fen in the audience. It should have been smooth, and rehearsed, and practiced, and predictable. Instead, she waited behind the curtains at the back of the stage for her cue to go on while the belly dancers did their thing out front, her heart beating erratically, her face pale, her eyes burning. She was wearing a figure–hugging dress that seemed to be made entirely of purple sequins –she had found the monstrosity in a thrift shop a couple of years back and had known immediately that this had to be the gown she would wear for her first outing as con Chair at Opening Ceremonies. But events had robbed the gown of its glamour and its spell and she barely remembered what she was wearing.