To The Stars (The Harry Irons Trilogy) (7 page)

It wasn't supposed to be this way, Harry thought. He was supposed to be looking forward to training with his new team and preparing to travel to the stars. Now he had to find a job and hope that sometime in the next year, one of the other corporations would show an interest in hiring him.

There was a lot of action on the street. More traffic than usual. They strolled past a group of thugs. One of the punks muttered something under his breath in George's direction. George wouldn't let it go and confronted the hoodlum.

"You got a problem?"

"Yeah, you." The punk laughed and looked to his friends for reinforcement. They nodded approvingly.

It wasn't an isolated occurrence. Scores of youth gangs roamed the streets at night, looking for crude fun and opportunity. They usually didn't bother the students. Tonight was different. Harry looked closely at the five young men. They were all dressed in black and wore their hair closely shaved to the skull. Tattoos of snakes and dragons adorned their arms. From their dilated eyes, Harry could tell they were flying on one or more of the many designer drugs commonly available on the streets. There was danger here.

"Well," George said, "what are you going to do about it?"

Oh no, Harry thought, here it comes.

The young man smiled and reached to his back pocket. George took a step backward and the punk drew out a stiletto. The other hoods spread out, encircling George, Frankie, and Harry.

"I'm gonna cut you," the punk said, brandishing the knife.

"Do it," urged one of the gang.

Surprisingly, the hood didn't hesitate. He lunged the point at George's midsection, but George nimbly dodged the thrust and caught the hood's arm as it extended. Without waiting any longer, Harry sprang to action, delivering a kick to the chest of one hood and pushing another aside. The remaining two grabbed Frankie and began to beat him.

George had the punk's arm locked up. The young tattooed man bent over at the waist and tried unsuccessfully to twist out of George's grip. Harry pulled one guy off Frankie and punched the other. Frankie scrambled to his feet. A gun went off and everybody ducked.

Harry glanced to his right and saw that the hood he'd pushed aside had pulled the gun. George still held his punk in an arm lock.

At that moment, a limo floated down and landed on the street. One of the back doors opened and a hand waved to Harry.

"Quick!" A male voice said from the interior.

Frankie was the first to enter the limo, quickly followed by Harry. George, still holding the punk by the arm, edged himself to the curb. He placed a foot in the small of the man's back and shoved him away. Then, George jumped into the hovering limousine. Immediately, the limo sprang into the air and left the gang behind.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry turned from the window and looked at Edward Fagen.

"That was a close one," Fagen said.

"We had 'em going until that guy pulled a gun."

"You handled yourselves well."

"Well," Frankie said matter-of-factly, "I'm just glad we got away before I got mad." Frankie tenderly touched his swollen lip and looked at George. "Am I bleeding?"

Harry thought he saw a touch of a smile at the corners of Fagen's mouth.

There was something about Edward Fagen. He showed little emotion. His words and his actions were delivered with a minimum of effort, hitting their mark concisely. He was a powerful man, Harry could see at a glance; not by the outward furnishings, the expensive limo, the clothes, but by the strength he seemed to emanate. This is a man, Harry thought, who has been to the stars.

Fagen spoke to Harry. "I'm almost glad this incident occurred. It gives me the opportunity to speak with you."

Harry couldn't imagine why. He was an alternate. He wasn't going to the stars. "I got alternate." Harry blurted.

"I know. But we need to speak privately." Fagen turned away and spoke briefly into a phone. After a moment, he replaced the receiver and the limo dropped smoothly to the street below.

"What's going on?" asked Frankie.

"I need to speak with Harry. I've called for another limo to have you two delivered to Foundation headquarters. Harry will join you there."

There was no argument from Frankie or George.

When the limo rested on the pavement, Fagen held open the door. "Good evening, boys. Stay out of trouble."

The two stepped out onto the sidewalk. "Thanks, Ed. See you at the party, Harry."

Fagen shut his door and the limo lifted up again. Fagen spoke to the driver through an intercom. "Ten minutes, James?"

"Yes sir, very good, sir," came the prompt reply.

Fagen faced Harry. "Now, I wanted to tell you that I did everything I could to get you aboard. We were watching you through the tests."

Harry looked at Fagen and said nothing. Where was he going with this?

The older man continued. "You were my first choice. I pressured the election committee but when the final tally came down, you were passed over for one of the board member's nephews."

Harry knew it was against the election rules to discuss the procedures. Why was Fagen telling him these things?

"You're probably wondering why I'm telling you this. Right?"

"It crossed my mind."

"Yes, well, as you're probably aware, I'm not supposed to talk about candidate selections. Inner workings of the company and all that. They like to give the impression that the selection process is entirely fair and the nominees are always the best, the most deserving..."

"And?"

"And oftentimes they're not. Sure, the corporation wants good, talented people, but these are high dollar positions offering instant success and wealth, untold wealth, if a mission gets lucky. As a result, the survey positions are bought and sold by corporate shareholders for their own purposes. Hell, I do it myself. That way I get to pick some of my own crew. You got bounced. It happens all the time.

Almost bounced you myself after the zoomball game. You gave up, you know. And that scene in the restroom. Man, you were so uptight, you couldn't even take a piss. After sitting through a three-hour test!"

"Even in there?"

Fagen laughed. "Come on, Harry, what did you expect? It's the biggest game in town."

Suddenly tired of the conversation, Fagen paused and looked out the window. Turning back, he asked, "Do you look at the stars, Harry?"

Harry looked up through the transparent top of the limo. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Probably ever since you were a kid," Fagen muttered. "Me too." Suddenly waking from his reverie, he pointed out the window. "We're there."

Harry looked down and saw the brightly lit rooftop. Shuttles, limos, and air taxis landed, released their occupants, and took off again. Fagen's limo took its turn and gently set down.

"I don't like the kid they assigned me, Harry. He'll get somebody killed, for sure. If you want, I'll work on the situation... see if I can work something out."

Harry had nothing to lose. "Sure," he said, "go ahead."

In the faded light of the limo back seat, Fagen's cold, gray eyes focused on Harry making Harry feel uncomfortable for a brief moment. Fagen nodded and a hint of a smile appeared not at the corners of his mouth, but at the edges of his eyes. "Good," said Fagen. "No promises, but I'll see what I can do. Now go enjoy the party. You've earned it." Fagen stuck out his hand.

Harry took the offered hand and again noticed the controlled strength in the man's grip. "You're not going?"

"I have business to attend. But you'll not be alone. Kathleen should be along soon."

"Well, thanks again."

"Thank you, Harry."

Harry stepped from the limo into the glare of lights. The car lifted up and moved away. It looked as though it was going to be quite a night. Harry still had a chance.

He worked his way through the crowd to the ballroom entrance. Music flowed from the open doors. Young women in extravagant sequined gowns swayed to the beat. In the foyer Harry located a directory that told him neither his friends nor Kathleen had yet arrived. As he entered the ballroom, he was scanned, identified, and entered into the directory. Via the same process, his name would be automatically removed when he left.

To his left and right were huge ornate staircases that led to upstairs lounges. Before him, a wide dance floor held a frenzied group of dancers. The music was supplied by an outlandishly-dressed popular band that played contemporary rhythms. Harry watched the dancers for a time, then moved up the stairs toward the observation deck.

From 99 stories up, Harry stood on the observation deck and looked out over the city. As far as he could see, lights spread out before him. He watched a limo drop and set down before the door. It deposited its passengers and lifted off again. An air-taxi came in next and picked up two people.

As he watched another air limo settle onto the landing pad, someone called his name. It was Frankie and George. Harry waved and turned back to the window. The air-limo deposited a large party and took on another large group.

"What a ride!" Said Frankie. "We've got the limo for the rest of night."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Who is that Fagen guy anyway?"

"He's a..." Before Harry could get the words out, a flash of light lit the observation deck. Outside, a small blast issued from the air-limo as it lifted with a new load of passengers. Another vehicle, an air-taxi, was involved in the accident and dropped quickly out of sight. The limo floated at an angle for an instant, then quickly followed the air-taxi. It happened so fast that the people outside hadn't the chance to run. They stood transfixed and asked one another what had happened. There was nothing to indicate that anything had happened besides a rapidly dissipating wisp of smoke. All the evidence, the two air-vehicles, the drivers, the passengers, had disappeared in a dead fall to the streets below.

"Wow!" George said. "What happened?"

"There's been an accident." Harry made for the stairs. "Maybe we can help." Frankie and George followed.

Below, in the ballroom, no one knew about the incident. Those who had just arrived were in the lobby, the shock still on their faces; among them, Kathleen and Bart. Kathleen saw Harry and called to him.

"It was the car right behind us. I knew most of the people in it."

Harry noticed that Kathleen seemed remarkably calm.

"You're in, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"Why Harry, one of the occupants of that car was our linguist. You're the alternate. You'll take his place."

Chapter 7

The shock of the crash and the accompanying casualties weighed heavily on Harry. Maybe he was to blame. After all, he'd given permission for Fagen to do anything to get him assigned to the team. How far had Fagen gone?

How could he have known the extent Fagen would go to assure Harry's assignment? Was the explosion an accident? Or not?

He looked into his coffee cup as if the answers might be found floating amid the grounds. The phone buzzed and his mother answered. Harry, lost in his thoughts, didn't pay attention.

She replaced the receiver. "Harry?"

Harry turned his eyes from the cup.

"That was somebody from Braithwaite," she said with guarded anticipation. "They want you to come to the corporate offices."

"When?"

"As soon as possible. Right now."

Harry didn't stir.

Mrs. Irons waited expectantly. Finally, she asked, "Harry, is something the matter?"

"No, Ma, I'm going." He rose from the table and went downstairs to change clothes. In minutes, he was on his way to the Braithwaite Foundation corporate offices.

Arriving, he gave the receptionist his name. "Oh yes, here we are. Harrison Irons, room 331. Take the escalator to the right, Mr. Irons."

"Thank you." He should have been happy, excited at the prospects. Under the circumstances, he wasn't.

He found the room easily enough and entered. A secretary looked up from her computer screen. "Yes. Can I help you?"

Harry looked around. He stood in a small outer office. Down a hall, other corporate employees passed from room to room, some with papers in hand, all with serious faces.

"My name's Harrison Irons. I was told to report here."

The secretary looked at her monitor. "Just a moment, please. Yes, there you are." She raised an eyebrow. "You were selected as an alternate survey team member?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mr. Irons, it looks as though you're no longer an alternate. Your status has been changed to active. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Harry said automatically. He held back the rush of excitement, reminding himself of how he got the job.

"We have a lot to do. There are forms to fill out, doctor's examinations, and inoculations. Oh, and your team is meeting in forty-five minutes. Well, we'll do as much as we can now and work around your schedule to finish up."