Prodigal Schemes

1 Schemes Knox was up to something, and Alex had to figure out what. Without getting caught. This was going to be fun. “Are you at IAS yet?” TrysKa asked over Alex’s earbud. “Almost,” Alex said. The dome for IAS, Institute of Adapted Students, lifted over the horizon into view. Alex gripped the handlebar in the hovertram more tightly as it zipped down the energy tunnel to his school’s biodome. “Are you in church?” he asked TrysKa. “I’m standing outside,” TrysKa answered. “About to go in.” TrysKa was back on the space station NT #2 orbiting New Terra, where it was technically Friday morning. Night and day, weekdays and weekends, didn’t exactly exist for spacefaring traders. They lived in one long night. But the stations in orbit aligned their day-night and weekly schedules with a specific city dome. Today was Friday in New York, so it was Friday on NT #2. Since Knox had a break in deliveries, the crew took the chance to go to church while one stayed and guarded the ship. It was Alex’s turn to stand guard. And that’s what Knox thought he was doing. “You never had the chance to tell me your plan,” TrysKa said. “If Knox is actually going to meet with Amalie tonight, how do we listen in?” “If Knox is going to meet? You mean when Knox goes to meet with her.” No one sitting around him even noticed his half-conversation. People commonly talked to someone on earbuds while they sat inside a public hovertram or rode down the conveyor belts of town or walked smack into the side of a building. Pedestrians didn’t always pay attention to where they were going when carrying on conversations via earbuds. In the space station, Alex would sneak off to the market and watch shoppers walk right into each other. Always good for a laugh. The IAS energy dome now filled the front window. Its electromagnetic shield shimmered like a bubble with a wall several centimeters thick. The hovertram sped down the last meters of tunnel into the biodome and all its vibrant color of life. The dead black mantle of the unterraformed planet ended, and grass, trees, and clouds took over, with a towering skyscraper, IAS, taking center stage. Birds scattered at the tram’s approach as the vehicle angled for the tram stop in front of the school. “And my plan is to bug Amalie,” Alex said. “Anything she hears tonight, we’ll know.” “How will you achieve that?” TrysKa asked. “Magic, of course.” “And a magician never reveals his secrets.” “Exactly.” The tram landed, and the passengers started unloading. Mostly beige uniforms of students filed out, but a few parents stood with them, along with late-arriving IAS instructors. Most of the staff arrived early, but a few didn’t teach class until later in the day. One soldier stood in the ranks, as well. Alex shuffled his way off of the tram with the crowd. When he exited, he stepped to the side to let everyone else off. “But how will you explain your trip to Knox?” TrysKa asked. “You know he’ll suspect you left.” “Oh, he’ll more than suspect.” Alex raised his hand to block his sensitive eyes from the midday sun. His contacts could shade the painful brightness only so much. He hurried to the shady side of the building but didn’t go inside yet. His conversation with TrysKa hadn’t finished, and those earbuds would not get reception inside the building. The school’s security systems monitored all incoming and outgoing communications, allowing only approved lines, and Alex’s earbud connection with Maverick was not registered. “I have other mischief planned to explain my trip to Knox,” Alex said. “Don’t you worry about that.” “Are you going to let me know what brand of mischief?” Alex smiled. “What’s the fun in that?” “Fair enough.” Then came the awkward silence. Alex leaned his head against the cool epoxycrete wall of the building. He could almost see TrysKa’s eyebrows bunching as she worked out how to craft her feelings into words. “I know. It hurts me, too,” Alex said. “I can’t believe Knox didn’t tell us about this meeting. If Amalie hadn’t hinted at it during our last chat…” “I know.” “Alex, why is he keeping secrets?” She barely whispered that last question. “Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Alex started up the steps to the school. “To find out.” # The lift door opened to the third floor, the medical and counseling wing of IAS. Memories billowed over Alex as he strolled down the hall of his old school, the Institute of Adapted Students. On his right and left, the counselors’ doors spread wide open, old tears lingering inside. He’d wept over his mom’s loss inside the third room on his left. What had his counselor’s name been? Miss Cathy. That’s right. It felt like so long ago that his mom had passed away. And like only yesterday. Alex passed five more counseling rooms, barely bigger than closets, with large pastel pillows on the floor for seating. Then the double doors of the doctor’s office greeted him. The see-through doors slid open automatically, inviting him in. The walls, floor, and furniture were a soft beige with a Celtic style tree of life painted on the longest wall. Birds, butterflies, squirrels, and all sorts of adorable mammals climbed, flew, and nested in its arms. Several miserable kids sat in the cushioned chairs that lined the walls, sheltered under the tree’s canopy. Most of the children had parents with them, but one girl curled up in a blanket alone. A blue-skinned medbot in floral scrubs waved at Alex from behind the counter. “Ready for your graduation ceremony tonight?” Meddie, the robot, asked with a feminine voice. “It’s about time.” Alex leaned his elbow on the counter. Again it felt as if the years had passed in a flash but also that they’d dragged with teenage sluggishness. But here Alex was, nineteen years old and ready for his graduation to adulthood with actual missions for his school and for Knox. “What brings you here?” Meddie asked. “I’m sick.” Alex fake coughed into his arm. “I need to see a doctor before it’s too late.” One boy in the waiting room giggled. “Do I really need to ask which doctor you want to see?” Meddie asked. “Is my girlfriend in?” “I’ll check when Dr. Mallet is available,” Meddie said and tilted her head as she accessed Amalie’s schedule and left a message. The medbot didn’t have to tilt her head. She didn’t have to move at all to do her job, but humans probably liked the movement. And technically a medbot’s job wasn’t just making schedules and accessing records; it was interacting with humans, too. One mother clucked her tongue in disapproval at Alex for calling himself Amalie’s boyfriend. Alex leaned back and winked. “Brant Mallet’s my big brother,” he said. “Amalie doesn’t have a boyfriend. I just like messing with him.” The woman pursed her lips. But another mom turned her head and smiled. He’d made someone laugh, anyway. Alex settled into the chair next to the lone girl. Her long black eyelashes drooped over puffy eyes. She curled up in a worn homemade blanket, hugging a stuffed gray animal. Maybe an elephant? Alex gently lifted the blanket to her chin. “Mom and Dad don’t live on New Terra?” She barely shook her head. Poor girl. Alex’s mom had lived on New Terra when she’d been alive. But many of the students attending IAS had parents who lived on one of the other Six Planets. No students were from Earth, of course. Adaptations manifested only in babies born on one of the six colony planets. Something about being away from humanity’s home planet had kicked in an evolutionary change in a few—Alex being one of them. A sippy cup of water sat on the end table next to the girl’s chair. “That yours?” Alex asked. Again her head lifted and lowered half an inch in a tired nod. The clear cup was almost empty. Alex opened it and went to the fountain niche in the wall next to Meddie’s counter. He put the cup inside, and cool water filled it with a whoosh, then automatically shut off. Alex screwed the lid back on and knelt before the sick girl. “Here you go,” he said, holding the spout to her lips. She opened her parched mouth and took several sips, then closed her dark eyes. Alex put the sippy cup back on the end table. The mom from across the waiting room had softened her pinched lips. Alex returned to the sterilizer next to the counter. A blue flash, and his hands were clean. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, probably undoing any benefits of the sterilization, and leaned against the wall. Time passed. They called the sick girl back into the private waiting rooms, and still Alex didn’t move. He stared off, letting his thoughts wander, and waited. The door opened, and Amalie stuck her head into the waiting room. “Alex?” He smiled widely and pushed off the wall. “Dr. Mallet.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers, and she cut her eyes at him. He held his arms wide, and they hugged. Her white doctor’s coat was crisp under his arms. “Glad you dropped by,” Amalie said. “Of course,” Alex said, but the button on his jacket sleeve got caught in her bun. “Oh sh—” Alex checked his language. “Shucks. Hold on. I’m caught.” Carefully he rotated his wrist to extract his button without undoing her hairdo. A few of the strands of hair were coarser than the rest and, right at the roots, flashed a glint of grey. But mostly Alex’s fingers brushed against the softer, natural auburn. With a deft move, he slipped a small white sticker under the collar of her blue shirt. That sticker was a joint invention of Ximena and his. It would send a low-resolution audio transmission that was undetectable. Well, almost undetectable. A program had to be looking specifically for that frequency to find it. Alex smoothed the loose strand of her hair back into place. “There. Everything’s in place now.” Amalie ran her hand over her bun, then narrowed her eyes at Alex. “So why are you really here?” More than one reason. Alex smirked. “Just wanted to see the school. Maybe pop in on Caedmon.” Amalie’s hazel eyes sparkled. “You’re going to see Caedmon? I wasn’t told by Knox that you had permission to take him to Maverick.” “I won’t bring Caedmon through that spaceport. That would be a dumb a—” he coughed. “A dumb thing to do.” The lips across the room pinched again. “What mischief do you have planned?” Amalie asked. Alex put his hand to his heart and gasped. “Mischief? Me?” Then he cracked his biggest grin yet. He felt his dimple poked deep in his right cheek now. “Is it really worth it to endure one of Caedmon’s tantrums?” she asked. “If I play my cards right,” Alex backpedaled to the door, keeping his face to Amalie, “it’ll be Brant who has to endure it.” Amalie winced. “I’m going to hear about this later.” Then she shrugged, “But it’s your graduation day. Go ahead.” Alex saluted and turned with a bounce. Amalie called out the name of her next patient, probably the son of pinched-lip lady. With a spring in his step, Alex returned to the lift. Everything was going according to plan. Phase One was now complete: Amalie had been bugged. The next step, of course, would be to get what he needed from Caedmon. To be clear, this was separate mischief from the bug on Amalie’s collar. The bug would wait until later tonight.