The Paradox Initiative (9 page)

She didn’t sleep. Not more than a couple hours. She was staring at the numbers that hovered in the air just over the surface of the bedside table when they clicked from “6:29” to “6:30.”

She sighed. Then
she shoved her covers off, sat up and set her feet on the floor. Chills raced over her skin.

Wincing, she grabbed the top layer of blankets, tugged it loose of the mattress, then wrapped it around her shoulders and got up. She trailed across the carpet to the door, and hazily watched it hiss open.
She blinked slowly, and looked out across the room.

Wolfe lay on top of his covers on his bed, gazing at the ceiling. The standing lamp beside him glowed at about a quarter of its full brightness, l
eaving a good deal of his form in shadow. He wore his jeans and gray short-sleeved shirt. His leather jacket sprawled at the foot of the bed. One bare forearm lay across his forehead, turned so she could clearly see the black tattoo. Something rested on his chest: a piece of folded leather, open and face-down. Kestrel considered it. It looked like there were pieces of thin, worn plastic between the leather halves.
Was
it plastic…? He breathed steadily, evenly, as if he were counting.

Kestrel sank to the floor, curling her feet up underneath her, and leaned sideways against the doorframe. She tucked the
blanket around her, sighed, then let her head fall against the doorframe, too.

Minutes ticked by.
Hours, maybe. She lost track, after a while. Her eyes started to drift shut as her hands relaxed…

Wolfe pulled in a sharp breath. Kestrel’s eyes opened.

He sat up, groaning and running a hand through his hair. He rubbed his face.

“What time is it?” He cleared his throat.

“Um…” Kestrel croaked, startled, then glanced back over her shoulder. “Seven.”

“Okay,” he sighed, shutting his folded leather piece and stuffing it inside his jacket. “Get ready. We’ll go find something to eat.”

Kestrel tied her hair up in its usual ponytail and looked at herself in the full-length mirror of her stainless steel bathroom. She’d showered, washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on the little bit of makeup she could find the sparse kit she’d dug out of her bag. The no-nonsense, form-hugging zipped gray jacket and pants fit her pretty well, but the slipper-like shoes she’d found in the bottom of the suitcase felt a little too soft, so she had tugged on her beat-up boots. She sighed, tilting her head as she studied her reflection, and then ran her fingertips across her cheeks. She looked tired. She rolled her eyes.

“Gee, why would I look tired?” she muttered, ti
ghtening her ponytail again. Kestrel turned, snagged her card case and pulled out all her cards, then zipped them securely into a side pocket of her jacket. Taking another breath, she left the bathroom, crossed through her bedroom and out into the main room.

Wolfe stood waiting for her, hands in his jeans pockets. Absently, she noticed he
wore a different shirt, he was clean shaven, and his hair was damp and half-combed. He had put on his jacket again. He met her eyes.

“Ready?”

She nodded. He didn’t say any more, just walked straight through the entrance and out into the hall. Kestrel lowered her head and followed him for the hundredth time.

“So where would be the closest place to find food?” Wolfe asked her as they stepped aboard the lift.

“This early in the morning?” Kestrel thought about it. “Well, cruisers usually have a sun deck, where it’s simulated daytime all the time...”

“There’s food there?” Wolfe said as the doors slid shut.
Kestrel shrugged.

“Probably.”

“Okay, so…”

Kestrel
raised her voice.

“Sun deck.”

“The Sun Deck
,” the computer said back, and they shot off. Wolfe reached out and gripped the rail on the wall, steadying himself. Kestrel took hold of the rail on the opposite wall, her stomach flipping as the little vehicle shot upward, sideways, then forward. In ten seconds, it slowed, and the doors opened.

Kestrel flinched, then squinted, pausing a second to let her eyes adjust.
Wolfe was out of the lift already. She quickly stepped out too, scanning the place, her first breath filled with the scent of bacon, coffee and toast.

A huge circular room
opened up in front of them, ringed with food stalls, the center filled with white chairs and tables. Umbrella-like, clear tinted shades hovered over the tables, offering just enough protection to those who sat from the golden “sunlight” that streamed from the center of the ceiling and flooded the whole chamber.

The dark green
floor under Kestrel’s feet felt like rubber—their steps didn’t make any noise. She caught sight of only one other group of people, a family of four, seated all the way across the room. Clanking, buzzing and hissing issued from all of the food stalls as the businesses opened up and started up.

“Okay,” Wolfe said again, pausing on the edge of the seating area and turning to
scan the vendors. “Pick one.”

“Me?” Kestrel’s eyebrows went up.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he nodded. “I’ll have whatever you have.”

“Okay…” Kestrel said uncertainly, glancing at the options. “There’s a…A regular breakfast place.
The Biscuit
—it’s got eggs and toast and—”

“Fine. Go,” he nodded to it. Kestrel glanced at him, then crossed the room to the vendor.

“Good morning.” A white-clad man adjusting a screw on the side of the machine smiled at them.

“Good morning,” Kestrel answered, then faced the
tall machine, which was made up of several large blocks, each one containing a touch screen. She moved forward and tapped one, dismissing the welcome screen, then tapped twice on a picture of a plate of eggs and bacon with a glass of orange juice. It beeped at her. She dug out her orange meal plan card and stuck it in the slot next to the screen.

Your order should be ready
thirty seconds. Thank you.

“What—food comes out of a
tin box now?” Wolfe remarked from behind her. She turned around.

“Um…”

He heaved a sigh, pulled out his own card and stepped up to a different screen.

“
Why am I surprised anymore?” he muttered, flicking through his options. Seconds later, he had ordered and paid, and they stood waiting in silence. Then, a large drawer opened beneath Kestrel’s screen—her steaming plate lay on it. Her cup of orange juice appeared in the grasp of a claw hand out from the side of the machine. She picked them both up, then waited for Wolfe to do the same.

“Where do you want to sit?” Kestrel asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, walked over and seated himself at the nearest table, adjusting his jacket and then picking up his silverware. Kestrel hesitated, then moved around and set her plate across from him and sat down.

Wolfe set his forearms on the table and began to eat. Methodically, taking a drink between every fifth bite, staring at his food, or at nothing.

Kestrel sipped her orange juice, watching him, then took a few bites of eggs. After several moments of silence, she took another drink, swallowed, and spoke.

“So. What’s the plan?”

“What plan?” he asked, scooping his over-easy egg onto a half piece of toast.

“Once we get to the Triple Star System,” Kestrel clarified. “What
are we going to do?”

He glanced at her, then took a bite.

“Find William Jakiv,” he said.

“Why?” Kestrel wanted to know, folding her arms and setting them on the table. “You told me that you know things that he’d rather you didn’t know
, and we ran
away
from him. And now we’re running
toward
him.”

“I also told you that the less
you
know, the better,” he reminded her.

“Why?” Kestrel demanded again. “How is keeping me uninformed going to help me make decisions?”

“You aren’t going to be
making
any decisions,” Wolfe growled, finishing off the last bit of his food. Kestrel’s eyes flashed.

“So now I’m your prisoner?”

“No,” he said scornfully “But I’ve been tracking this man for three years. What we do in the end will be my
call, not yours.”

“You’
re forgetting that he’s holding
my
family hostage,” Kestrel snapped, leaning forward. “
My
family, who never had a
thing
to do with this scientist until
you
came along.”

He sighed, and when he
met her gaze this time, he seemed tired.

“Look, Brown Eyes—”

“Attention passengers on levels one through three: please proceed to the Star Deck. Mandatory escape drills for your decks will be conducted at eight-thirty this morning, Kansas time. If you do not arrive promptly at eight-thirty for your roll call, an attendant will come to your cabin to assist you.”

The announcer’s
pleasant voice made Kestrel grind her teeth.

“You’d better finish that,” Wolfe pointed at her plate. “That clock
over there says we’ve got ten minutes.”

Kestrel
scowled, stuffed her bacon in her mouth and swallowed her questions.

“Star Deck,” Kestrel said to the elevator after the doors shut.

“
The Star Deck.”
And it buzzed straight upward.

“What’s the
Star Deck?” Wolfe asked, holding onto the railing again.

“The front half of the very top level of a star cruiser is always transparent,” Kestrel explained. “It’s a huge room just for looking at the vie
w. The escape pods are usually all around the edges of it.” She shot him a narrow look. “So when are you going to tell me what I asked?”

The doors opened. Wolfe stared out.

A small, black hall waited before them—and at the end of it, something shimmered. His brow furrowing, his eyes intent, he stepped out. Kestrel followed him, watching. They strode down the corridor toward the low opening…

And out onto the deck.

Wolfe drew to a stop.

High
over their heads arched a limitless dome—a dome so broad it looked like the sky itself, stretching from horizon to horizon. Except this sky had no atmosphere, no clouds, no city lights to pollute or disguise the endless heaven above it.

It was just there.
Right
there. The cold, fathomless depth of blackest space, pierced through by millions and millions of diamond-like stars—like pinprick facets caught in the full sunlight, flashing and twinkling. All of the stretching cosmos hovered just above them, as if they could simply reach up and run their fingers along the spine of the galaxy…

And at the same time, it
plunged to an infinite distance up and away from them, looming dark and bright and full and utterly empty all at once.

Kestrel
had been on star decks before. But this view never failed to stop her in her tracks, and erase everything she had been thinking about. It made her feel like the smallest, most insignificant speck of dust in existence—and yet, somehow, it put a thrill through her blood that she could never explain.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Wolfe, gazing upward, hardly breathing. She risked a glance at him…

His face, silvery in the starlight. His eyes brilliant and vivid, his lips slightly parted. Then, he let out a shaking sigh, his eyebrows drew together…

And
he almost smiled.

“’Canst thou bind the sweet influences of the Pleiades,’”
he quoted, quiet and hoarse. “’Or loose the bands of Orion?’”

Kestrel stared at him—but he seemed to
have forgotten she was there. Slowly, he wandered forward, never taking his attention from the stars, until he stood in the center of the vast, dark deck. Kestrel absently noticed other travelers filtering in, but none of them spoke loudly. A deep, awesome hush settled over each one of them as soon as he entered.

For a long while,
Kestrel watched Wolfe’s tall, solitary form, then let her attention drift back to the stars. Only when the Escape Pod Assistant emerged and commanded that they listen to him did she or Wolfe move at all, or think of anything but the towering skies.