The Paradox Initiative (7 page)

The soft
bustle of a crowd descended on them before they emerged from the wide staircase into the station. Kestrel had to blink to readjust her eyes.

Wheat-colored marble flooring with wide, black designs intersecting it. Tall
, Romanesque walls with arched windows of paned glass. At the far end across from them, a towering window bearing an old-fashioned, gold-faced clock. A clock which now read 10:40. Several groups of people milled around throughout the room. The lights of passing trains flashed outside all the windows.

Wolfe
tilted his head back, studying the huge chamber.

“I’ve been here before,” he murmured.
He cast a glance at the milling crowds. “It wasn’t this busy, though.”

“
This historical part hasn’t been open very long,” Kestrel answered, trying to keep herself from shaking. “It’s probably more than five-hundred years old.”

“Was it always called The Hub?” Wolfe asked.

“Um, no. Union Station,” Kestrel answered, hurriedly scanning the terminal signs. “But it’s gotten so big lately that if you ride a train, you
have
to go through here, whether you want to or not.”

“Hm
,” was all Wolfe said.

“There
it is,” Kestrel pointed, starting toward one of the widest, busiest terminals. More than thirty people, all carrying baggage, waited outside its doors. Up above it, in gold, digital letters, it said: KANSAS CITY SPACE PORT—TRANSIT TIME: 3O MINUTES.

“This is
really
cutting it close…” Kestrel winced.

A ruckus issued from behind. Kestrel
spun—

Four black-clad policemen darted out of the stairwell, their hands on their weapons belts, frantically searching through the crowds.

“C’mon,” Wolfe whispered, then nudged her further into the mass of people waiting, most of whom were now watching the police.

Beep
.

The sliding door in the wall opened, and then the door of the train outside
did the same. Wolfe slipped Kestrel right through first and followed, then guided her toward a corner seat.

“The train to the Kansas City Space Port is now boarding,” a pleasant computer voice said. “Please seat yourself quickly. If you are standing, please use hand rails. Thank you.”

Kestrel sat down and stuffed her bag under her chair again. Wolfe sat down directly beside her and did the same, again. All the rest of the thirty-some people filed in, some half-heartedly glancing back to watch the police. Finally, the doors closed, and the train powered out of the station, picking up speed every second. And Kestrel felt Wolfe let out a low sigh.

This
car did not rattle or jiggle. The inside smelled fresher, and most of the passengers had dressed for travel—comfortable, clean clothes, and carrying baggage. Nobody talked. They studied the floor, or gazed out the windows as they leaned back and forth with the movement of the speed train.

Kestrel’s attention drifted out the window to her right. The city lights blinked past
, and sometimes blacked out altogether as they passed through a brief tunnel. The engine hummed all around them.

“There it is,”
a woman said to her little daughter, and pointed. Kestrel leaned forward to see…

The spacep
ort, its unfathomable walls alight with colorful dancing advertisements, shining like a sun through the blackness. Flashing tower lights stood atop its circumference, giving it the appearance of wearing a crown. Far above it, in an endless line stretching off into the distance, hovering spacecraft waited to land, their running lights creating a highway in the cloudy sky.

“That’s somethin’
,” Wolfe murmured. Kestrel didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and considered him.

“Those guys…” she said quietly. “They were just…Just muggers, right?”

Wolfe focused on her face. Said nothing.

“Or—did they work for Conrad?” Kestrel whispered. Wolfe shrugged, looked out the window.

“Don’t know. Don’t think so.”

“Or, do they work for…” Kestrel trailed off. Wolfe’s jaw
tightened. He didn’t answer. Kestrel fell silent.

Five minutes
later, they plunged into a terminal and halted. The doors
beeped
open, and everyone jostled out. Kestrel snatched up her bag as Wolfe hustled her through the door—

And they stepped into the grand entryway of the KCSP.

Wolfe stopped.

Loudspeakers in every corner announced flight cancellations, baggage claims, terminal changes,
warnings about suspicious activity, and personal calls. Thousands of travelers walked noisily and with great purpose every which way, crossing the elaborate tile design on the floor, ducking in and out of the hundreds of inviting shops that lined the circumference of this huge level, or stepping aboard elevators. Directly ahead of them waited a vast staircase, which held ten rows of up and down escalators. On either side of this staircase hung suspended pools of water—water that then cascaded straight down into the floor and vanished. The sound of the rushing falls muffled the foot traffic, and filled the whole chamber to its height.

“Come on,” Kestrel said
, and together they left the tunnel of the train terminal and stepped out into the majestic space. The floor, a black-and-royal-blue mosaic of Orion, reacted to their footsteps—the white tiles flashed, and the blue tiles lit up with sparkles. But after a few strides, Kestrel couldn’t help but look up—even though she’d seen it hundreds of times before.

The skylight—the entire ceiling—through which
everyone could see all of the blinking starships waiting to land; and the clouds above, which glowed as they reflected the running lights and the lights of the spaceport itself.

Kestrel adjusted her grip on her luggage and faced the staircase—now, she could see the ove
r-arching, banner-like sign hanging from end to end of the chamber, its letters twinkling like diamonds.

THE
KCSP: YOUR GATEWAY TO THE STARS

“Watch your step,” Kestrel
advised as she hopped onto an escalator and started to rise. Wolfe nimbly followed her.

“Gatway to the S
tars,” he mused, slapping his hand down on the rail.

“St. Louis always got to be called ‘Gateway to the West,” Kestrel said, keeping her eyes ahead of her. “Kansas City wanted to
go one better.”

“
Might as well.”

Seconds later, they
got off the escalator…

And stopped i
n front of a black wall with a single door, above which a severe blue sign blinked.

SECURITY

“Okay,” Kestrel took a deep breath. “We have to get our cards out now.” She set her bag down on a metal bench off to the side and opened it, then pulled out the clear container. “Here, this is yours—I need mine.”

Wolfe
quickly set his bag down, took what she handed him, and pulled out her case.

“And you need to carry your own luggage, and I need to have mine,” Kestrel said, impatiently shoving a strand of hair out of her face as she took her ID
s from him. She shut his case and faced him as people strode of the escalators behind him and passed into security. She met Wolfe’s eyes. He stood completely still, brow furrowed.

“We’ll
get separated in here,” she told him quietly. “And separated from our bags. We’ll have to meet up after we’re all the way through.”

“
Fine,” he nodded.

“Just…” Kestrel made herself keep breathing. “Stay very calm, and do whatever they say. You don’t…have any more weapons on you, do you?”

He smiled crookedly.

“Fresh out.”

Kestrel frowned.

“No, Brown Eyes,”
he said. “That means no.”

“Fine,” she said, irritated. She opened her case and pulled out the
blue card and the red card. “You need to have these first. They’ll want the others later, when we actually board.”

“How long does this process usually take?” Wolfe asked, pulling out his own cards and snapping the case shut.

“About an hour.”

“And it’s…eleven-ten right now,” Wolfe observed, pointing to a clock across the way. “And we’re supposed to board at—”

“Twelve-thirteen,” Kestrel finished. “We’re going to have to run.”

“Then let’s go,” Wolfe
decided, picking up his bag and striding toward the door. Kestrel immediately followed him, stepping through the intimidating entrance and up to one of the dozen security androids—a tall, silver, bulky robot with no facial features except red eyes.

“
That way, please
,” it pointed to its right. Kestrel bit her lip as she watched Wolfe get sorted off in the other direction. He didn’t look back. Kestrel started walking.

In about ten paces, s
he stopped in front of a shut door. On the wall off to the right of it, a computer blipped.

“Please insert you
r identification card and your Travel Permission card into the slot indicated by the green light,” a female computer overhead commanded. Kestrel stepped forward and slid them in, in the order specified.

“
Please remove all sun-shades and hats, and stand as still as possible in front of full body scanner.”

Kestrel’
s heart hammered. If her cards didn’t work, if the scan didn’t match up with the info
on
the card...

The door glowed, then flashed at her. An exact replica of her image transferred onto the door, and a red line traveled up and down its length, lingering especially on her face
…

She held her breath.

“
Welcome to the KCSP, April Johnson. Please proceed
,” the computer instructed. Her chest loosened. The door hissed open. She stepped through. It hissed shut behind her. Now, she stood in a low, narrow, black tunnel, with walls and ceilings of gleaming, one-way mirrors.

“Please place all luggage in the slot to your right.”

Kestrel lifted her bag, careful to keep her little clear case in her left hand, and set it inside the wide opening. She let go. Her bag instantly disappeared.

“Your safety is our concern. As you proceed onto the conveyor belt, please watch your step.”

Kestrel kept her attention on her feet as she climbed aboard the conveyor belt, feeling her palms start to sweat. The belt picked up speed—to about walking pace. Slower, in fact. She ironed out her expression. When she was little, this part had been kind of fun. Now her skin crawled at the idea of all the androids, cameras, technicians and armed guards watching her through that one-way glass.

A green
archway appeared up ahead labeled BODY SCAN TWO.

“Please close your eyes.”

Kestrel did. She passed through the archway, and a bone-buzzing
thrum
vibrated her entire frame. She opened her eyes, unclenching her jaw and rubbing her tongue on the roof of her mouth. That one always made her whole face itch. However, the sensation had only just passed when another arch came into view.

BODY SCAN THREE.

“Ugh,” Kestrel groaned, but kept her balance.

During the next twenty minutes, s
he passed under seventeen more body scans, each of which buzzed, beeped, tingled or shivered through her whole frame. Finally, she could see ahead of her that the conveyor belt ended in a small room.

“Please wait for a probing android
to inspect you.”

Kestrel gritted her teeth as the conveyor stopped.

“Please stand with your feet apart and your arms out to the sides.”

Kestrel obeyed, staring at the door ahead of her. A trash-can shaped android shot out from a slot in the wall to her right and whirled all around her,
rapidly raising and lowering, waving glowing blue wands. It swept them over every surface of her body, then extended upward to eye level and glared a light in her face.

“
Open your mouth, please
,” it monotoned. Kestrel did. It rammed one of the wands into her mouth. Her whole skull vibrated.

“Open your eyes, please.”

Kestrel forced them open, and the android scanned both of them.

“Thank you
.” It withdrew, and darted back into its little slot. The door opened, and Kestrel walked through.

A woman wearing a blue jumpsuit stood behind a podium. She smiled at Kestrel, and held out a gloved hand.

“May I see your other travel cards?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kestrel said, handing her clear case to her. The woman swiftly opened it, then pulled all her cards out and inserted them into her desktop. She watched the screen. Kestrel fought not to fidget.

“Authorization to cross the Liquor Line—check. Meal plan—check. Sufficient credit—check.” She looked at Kestrel and smiled again. “Proceed past me and down that hallway,” she pointed. “Turn to your right and wait for the search of your baggage to be completed. You’ll pick up your ID and your Travel Permission card there as well.”

“Thank you,” Kestrel nodded as the woman handed her car
ds back. Kestrel immediately slipped the cards back in the clear case, then followed the glowing arrows in the floor down the straight corridor to the turn.

She rounded the corner. Four
stoic, armed men in blue uniforms stood against one wall. Two more men wearing gloves had Kestrel’s bag open on a table, and they shuffled through the clothes, pressed against the lining, examined the hinges and clips, and felt all its edges. Kestrel waited at a respectful distance, saying nothing.

A man snapped the bag shut, turned and held it out to her.

“Here you are, ma’am. And here are your ID and Permissions cards back. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you.” S
he gave them all a smile and took her bag and cards.

“The terminal is just that way,” the man pointed. She nodded, turned around and hurried out of the room, hoping
Wolfe had not proceeded too far without her…

She walked through a set of clear doors and came out into a well-lit white lobby filled with benches and people re-arranging their possessions after having them tousled by security. Kestrel slowed down, sweeping the crowd, her body
tensing...

“Come on,” a voice snapped in her ear. She whirled to see a scowling Wolfe towering over her right side. He
didn’t pause—he plunged ahead, toward the door of the lobby. “Like you said, we’ve gotta run.”

“What time is it?” Kestrel asked as she trotted up next to him. The doors in front of them whooshed open and they rushed into a long, brightly-lit, crowded white lobby that would force them to turn either right or left.

“That clock says 12:05,” Wolfe pointed to one hanging overhead.

“Oh,
no—”
Kestrel gasped.

“Which way do we go?” Wolfe demanded.

“Um…Um…” Kestrel spun around, searching the hovering signs toward the extremities of the hallways. “
The
Effervescent, The Exhilaration, The Entertainment, The Elation…
”

“
The Exception,”
Wolfe pointed far down the wide corridor to their right. “That sign there, see it?”

“Yes—!”

“Go, go, go.” Wolfe broke into a run. Kestrel leaped after him.

T
hey pounded down the concourse, weaving in and out of the crowd, hopping over resting luggage and dodging around fake trees.

“Excuse me, sorry, sorry—excuse me!” Kestrel tried as she shoved people’s shoulders. Wolfe didn’t offer any apology—he just plowed ahead of her, running as fast as possible with all these people in the way.