Against Gravity

22 October 2096 Edinburgh

Getting out of the country turned out to be less of a problem than Kendrick had initially suspected. Not long after his conversation with Todd he got another call from Buddy. Kendrick filled him in.

"I'm on my way to the States myself. Listen, head for California, okay? That's where we're meeting," said Buddy.

"I need to find Caroline first, Buddy."

"But do you even have any idea where they might have taken her?"

"New York. I know Hardenbrooke is on his way there, and may be he's got Caroline with him. It's not like I have any other options."

"You know this has to be a trap, right?"

"It doesn't matter."

Kendrick could hear Buddy sigh on the other end of the line. "I guess I'd do the same. Good luck, but maybe you should tie your wand into mine."

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. Every time I use this thing it gives someone a chance to track me down over the grid."

"So what? They can probably find you anyway. This way at least your friends will know where you are, right?"

Kendrick thought about it. "Yeah, okay then. Listen, about the… this whole thing with the Archimedes.'"

"Yeah?"

"How long before you go there?"

"Three days, Kendrick. Three days. Remember that."

Kendrick closed the co

"Long time, no hear," Roy chuckled when he realized who he was talking to. "What's it been, a couple of years? Anything from Buddy recently? Haven't heard from him in a good long while myself."

"Buddy's doing fine, Roy. Listen, I need a favour."

"Uh-huh," said Roy. "What kind of favour?"

"A special kind of favour."

"Right, hang on a minute."

The sound of Roy's breathing disappeared abruptly for a few seconds. "Okay, we're on a secure line now," he said when he returned. "Can you talk freely where you are?"

Kendrick looked around him. He was standing in a narrow alley near the city centre but a furtive glance around assured him that no one was paying attention to him. "Yeah, I'm alone."

"Is there something else I should know?" Roy asked, his voice guarded. "You sound, er, tense."

"Nothing you'd want to know," Kendrick replied. "I'm just worried about being tracked via this wand. Is there any way you can make my line permanently secure from tracking?"

"Not really, no. Only way to be sure is get rid of the thing."

"I don't want to do that," Kendrick replied. "I want Buddy to know where I am."

"Then so will whoever's looking for you."

"I know, Roy. It's a long story. I need you to help me because-"

"No," Roy said quickly. "By the sound of things, maybe you shouldn't even tell me. Keep it all on a need-to-know basis, yeah? Besides, I owe both you guys one."

Kendrick found it almost frightening how easily Roy created a new fake identity for him. As instructed, Kendrick used public transport to get himself to Edinburgh airport, heading for a public fax unit on his arrival. He tapped in the q-crypt key that Roy had supplied and a few seconds later the fax spat out a cream-coloured plastic card with his picture on it, along with fake retina and DNA details coded into a hologram strip, together with yet another assumed identity, also supplied by Roy. A small matt-black data-chip followed the card a few moments later.

Kendrick studied the plastic card, memorizing the name printed there, and wondered if he could really pull this off. He'd learned how to behave on passing through Customs. The secret was not to act too sure of yourself. People who behaved too smoothly were often those who raised suspicions.

The datachip contained his flight information and payment details. As far as the flight company was concerned, Roy was Kendrick's legal employer. Probably the datachip would also contain encrypted financial information to do with Roy's business. This would give Kendrick's trip some purpose: many businesses were now too paranoid to trust their most sensitive information to the public grid, as even private grid networks had their flaws. Nanodust transmitters were only one of many technologies available to the modern corporate spy, and as a result there was still a call for human couriers to carry information physically from one place to another.

To all appearances, therefore, Kendrick was just another courier. Okay.

Kendrick stared past the endless food concessions and identikit bars, which had always infested airport terminals, towards the check-in desks beyond. He took a step forward, then another, wondering just how self-conscious he looked.

To hell with it, he decided, picking up his pace. Do or die.

In the end, Kendrick's fears came to nothing. The check-in people asked him what he was carrying and he showed them the datachip, as Roy had instructed. A woman placed his chip in a reader and that was that -they waved him on.

The jet was barely half-full. Not surprising, given how its destination had lost its tourist appeal in recent decades. The majority of the passengers wore T-shirts or caps that made it clear they were on their way to do relief work. Apart from them, Kendrick saw a smattering of men and women in businesswear.

The jet boosted to the top of the atmosphere, skipping across the borderline between sky and space like a stone skimming across waves. Kendrick spent most of his time staring out the window at the deep blue of near-space.

23 October 2096 New York

A few short hours later Kendrick stepped out of the terminal building at La Guardia and into utter chaos.

There were tanks parked all the way around the airport. That was the first thing he noticed. The second thing was the sea of beggars who surrounded him the instant he stepped beyond the terminal entrance.

Just metres away Kendrick sighted a rank of antique and battered-looking cabs, the entirely manual kind that still needed real human drivers. He headed for the first in line, pushing past all the people pleading with him. One woman, her face a mask of tears, even thrust her baby at his chest, yelling words he couldn't comprehend amidst the commotion.

Knowing that he wasn't the only one having to deal with this gave Kendrick scant relief. He noticed the relief workers from the same flight pushing just as hard against this human tide but they looked like they had more experience of it. A phalanx of them just bulldozed through the beggars, heading for a private-hire bus parked a little way beyond the taxi rank.

Kendrick kept asking people to step out of his way but they thrust themselves in his path all the more eagerly. He could see soldiers sitting on top of some tanks in the distance and imagined that they were watching the scene with detached amusement.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted another passenger from his flight – a business type – literally battering the beggars aside with his aluminium suitcase. The man bulled on through, his technique appearing to work.

Giving up any pretence at the niceties, Kendrick followed his example. He propelled himself forward, smacking against shoulders and heads with his elbows. It was, indeed, the only way. Things were bad all over in his native country, but he'd forgotten just how bad.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered once he reached the first of the taxis. A woman whom he recognized from his flight – small and chocolate-ski