“Is something the matter, lady?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just odd, that’s all. If I’m reading this right, the captain has given the spaceport total access to the flight computer. They’re running some really comprehensive diagnostic programs, checking everything on board.”
“Is that bad?”
“I’m not sure.” Louise stiffened, glancing around self-consciously. She cleared her throat. “They’re also accessing the internal cameras. Watching us.”
“Ah.”
“Come along, Fletcher. We must get ready to leave.”
“Yes, ma’am, of course.”
He had dropped right back into the estate servant role without a blink. Louise hoped the cameras wouldn’t pick up her furtive smile as she pushed off from the deck.
Genevieve’s cabin was full of four inch light cubes, each of them a different colour. Little creatures were imprisoned inside them, as if they were cages made of tinted glass. The projection froze as Louise activated the door, an orchestral rock track faded away.
“Gen! You’re supposed to be packed. We’re here, you know, we’ve arrived.”
Her little sister peered at her through the transparent lattice, red-eyed and frazzled. “I’ve just disarmed eight of the counter-program’s Trogolois warriors, you know. I’ve never got that far before.”
“Bully for you. Now get packed, you can play it again later. We’re leaving.”
Genevieve’s face darkened in petulant rebellion. “It’s not fair! We’re always having to leave places the moment we arrive.”
“Because we’re travelling, silly. We’ll get to Tranquillity in another couple of weeks, then you can put down roots and sprout leaves out of your ears for all I care.”
“Why can’t we just stay in the ship? The possessed can’t get inside if we’re flying about.”
“Because we can’t fly about forever.”
“I don’t see—”
“Gen , do as you’re told. Turn this off and get packed. Now!”
“You’re not Mother.”
Louise glared at her. Genevieve’s stubborn mask collapsed, and she started to sob.
“Oh, Gen.” Louise skimmed across the narrow space and caught hold of the small girl. She ordered the processor block off, and the glowing bricks flickered into dewy sparkles before vanishing altogether.
“I want to go home,” Genevieve blurted. “Home to Cricklade, not Tranquillity.”
“I’m sorry,” Louise cooed. “I haven’t being paying you much attention on this flight, have I?”
“You’ve got things to worry about.”
“When did you go to sleep last?”
“Last night.”
“Humm.” Louise put a finger under her sister’s chin and lifted her face, studying the dark lines under her eyes.
“I can’t sleep much in zero-gee,” Genevieve confessed. “I keep thinking I’m falling, and my throat all clogs up. It’s awful.”
“We’ll book into a High York hotel, one that’s on the biosphere’s ground level. Both of us can have a real sleep in a proper bed then. How does that sound?”
“All right, I suppose.”
“That’s the way. Just imagine, if Mrs Charlsworth could see us now. Two unmarried landowner girls, travelling without chaperones, and about to visit Earth with all its decadent arcologies.”
Genevieve attempted a grin. “She’d go loopy.”
“Certainly would.”
“Louise, how am I going to take this block back home? I really don’t want to give it up now.”
Louise turned the slim innocuous unit around in front of her. “We escaped the possessed, and we’ve flown halfway across the galaxy. You don’t really think smuggling this back to Cricklade is going to be a problem for the likes of us, do you?”
“No.” Genevieve perked up. “Everyone’s going to be dead jealous when we get back. I can’t wait to see Jane Walker’s face when I tell her we’ve been to Earth. She’s always going on about how exotic her family holidays on Melton island are.”
Louise kissed her sister’s forehead and gave her a warm hug. “Get packed. I’ll see you up at the airlock in five minutes.”
There was only one awkward moment left. All of the Bushay family had gathered by the airlock at the top of the life-support section to say goodbye. Pieri was torn between desperation and having to contain himself in front of his parents and his cluster of extended siblings. He managed a platonic peck on Louise’s cheek, pressing against her for longer than required. “Can I still show you around?” he mumbled.
“I hope so.” She smiled back. “Let’s see how long I’m there for, shall we?”
He nodded, blushing heavily.
Louise led the way along the airlock tube, her flight bag riding on her back like a haversack. A man was floating just beyond the hatch at the far end, dressed in a pale emerald tunic with white lettering on the top of the sleeve. He smiled politely.
“You must be the Kavanagh party?”
“Yes,” Louise said.
“Excellent. I’m Brent Roi, High York customs. There are a few formalities we have to go through, I’m afraid. We haven’t had any outsystem visitors since the quarantine started. That means my staff are all sitting around kicking their heels with nothing to do. A month ago you could have shot straight through here and we wouldn’t even have noticed you.” He grinned at Genevieve. “That’s a huge bag you’ve got there. You’re not smuggling anything in are you?”
“No!”
He winked at her. “Good show. This way please.” He started off down the corridor, flipping at the grab hoops to propel himself along.
Louise followed with Genevieve at her heels. She heard a whirring sound behind. The hatch back to the Jamrana was closing.
No way back now, she thought. Not that there ever had been.
At least the customs man appeared friendly. Perhaps she had been fretting too much about this.