D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“I told you, I know hotels. Trust me.”

Courtney shrugged. Dodger reached out and took off her floppy hat. “You’re a pretty gal. Don’t go trying to look like a boy. Dressed like that you’re going to stick out like a sore thumb.”

Courtney looked down at her woolen pants and sweater. She suddenly wished she had thought ahead enough to have worn one of those creepy dresses she’d seen in the shop windows back in New York.

“I look like one of those immigrants you see in pictures from Ellis Island,” Courtney admitted, discouraged.

“Don’t worry,” Dodger assured her. “I’ll scare something up for you.”

Courtney nodded. “Where will I find you?”

Dodger thought and said, “I’ll meet you on the bow in an hour. Be careful, keep moving. Avoid the crew, but don’t be obvious about it. They don’t know all the passengers yet.”

“Okay, good luck.”

“Good hunting.” Dodger tipped his cap and ducked out the door.

Courtney was alone again. The task ahead was daunting, but clear. Find Mark. Stop him. Save him, but stop him. She knew she couldn’t fail. It was all about his Forge invention. She had to get him to destroy the model. The moment it was gone, she felt sure that history would change, and all would be as it was meant to be. The dados would no longer exist on Veelox, and the war for Ibara would never begin. Bobby would be safe. Mark would be safe. Halla would be safe.

Courtney stuck her hat in her back pocket and tied her hair up to look as presentable as possible. She took off her sweater and untucked her white shirt. She then tied her sweater around her waist, hoping to look like a sporty kind of girl rather than a stowaway. She looked at her reflection in a mirror that took up an entire wall of the restaurant. She turned up her collar to try looking even more stylish. She realized it was hopeless. She was going to stick out like, well, like a stowaway. She knew her best chance of not getting caught by a crew member was not being seen by a crew member. With that impossible challenge in mind, she set out in search of Mark.

Her plan was to stick to the areas with the biggest crowds. She figured the odds of spotting Mark were better there. Just as important, she hoped to blend in. Those hopes evaporated as soon as she stepped onto the Promenade Deck. It was a wide, enclosed deck, with a ceiling and windows to protect against the elements. Though the frenzy of the boarding process had died down, the place was still alive with people. None of them looked anything like Courtney.

There would be no blending in.

The women all wore dresses or neatly tailored suits. The men were in suits and ties. Courtney always imagined a cruise to be a place where people dressed down and wore shorts and ran around having fun. That wasn’t the case in 1937. She felt like a little kid at a very grown-up party, which is pretty much exactly what she was. Worse, she had crashed the party. She decided the best thing to do was not worry about anything except finding Mark. She thought that if she skulked around looking guilty, somebody was sure to spot her and turn her in. She covered lots of ground quickly and methodically. She first traversed the entire enclosed Promenade Deck, until she ended up back where she’d started. Along the way she kept peering at the men, getting in their faces, hoping one might be Mark. All she got in return was a bunch of strange looks.

Her next step was to climb up to the Sun Deck, which was named because it had no ceiling and only a handrail along the side. Walking along this deck felt much more like being on a ship. She could feel the sun and the wind and the sea spray. Lifeboats hung high movie Titanic. She shook that image out of her head fast. There was enough to worry about without dwelling on ocean disasters.

The late afternoon sun was setting, casting warm light on the water. Courtney wished she could have stopped to enjoy it, like so many of the other passengers who leaned out over the rails. That wasn’t going to happen. She was on a mission. She passed a few people she could have sworn were stars she’d seen in ancient movies. What were their names? Clark Gable? Cary Grant? Cary Gable? She saw a chubby guy who looked like an old-time movie comedian, though she wasn’t sure if it was Laurel or Hardy. Or neither. She made a mental note of trying not to think of these people as being from the past, because on First Earth they were very much in the present. She saw hundreds of people, but no Mark.

Courtney felt much more at ease on the Sports Deck. Here passengers were playing shuffleboard and tennis. Eager sports-minded passengers were out playing in the dying sunlight. Courtney was happy to see that these players didn’t wear dresses and suits. The men wore long pants and sweaters, and the women wore loose skirts. She wanted to hang out on this deck a little more, if only because she didn’t stand out so much in the clothes she had on. It was also kind of unique to watch people playing on the deck of a moving ship at the base of the three massive orange-and-black smokestacks. It might actually have been kind of fun, if it weren’t keeping her from trying to save all of humanity.

After searching unsuccessfully for nearly an hour, it was time to head toward the bow and her rendezvous with Dodger. She realized with frustration how difficult a task finding Mark was going to be. Finding him would take a huge amount of luck. She hoped that Dodger had been able to find out where his cabin was, because running into Mark by accident seemed impossible.

The ship was way too big. As she walked toward the bow, she tried to think like Mark. Where would he go? What would he do? The obvious answer was that he’d spend most of the time in his cabin, reading. That was Mark. But Mark was curious, too. He’d never been on a ship before. He’d want to know how it worked. He’d explore. What would be one of his first things to do? She didn’t think he’d spend the whole time reading.

Reading. The realization was as simple as could be. The library. That’s where he’d go. Was there a library on this big ship? There had to be. They had everything else. Without the least bit of concern that they’d ask her who she was and if she had paid for the voyage, she marched right up to one of the stewards, who was serving drinks to a couple tucked snugly into deck chairs.

“Excuse me, could you tell me where the library is?” she asked politely.

“Certainly, miss. “It’s in Regent Street. Take the-“

“Got it, thanks,” Courtney said, and jogged off. She didn’t even look back to see what she knew would be curious stares at the bold girl in pants. She knew exactly where Regent Street was and how to get there. After being on the Queen Mary for only a few hours, she was beginning to know her way around. She quickly ran down several flights of narrow, wooden stairs that brought her back to the Promenade Deck. She entered the Regent Street shopping mall and moved quickly past the fancy shops. All she wanted was the library. She found it on the far end. She burst through the door, startling a woman behind a desk, who Courtney figured was the librarian.

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed.

“Sorry,” Courtney apologized. She scanned the small room that was ringed with shelves full of leather-bound books. Plenty of books, no people.

“Can I help you, miss?” the older woman asked pleasantly, having regained her composure.

“No, thanks,” Courtney said quickly, then got an idea and approached the desk. “Maybe you can. A friend of mine said he was going to reserve some books and wanted me to pick them up. Could you check for me?”

“Certainly,” the woman said with a slight British accent. “What would his name be?”

“Dimond. Mark Dimond.”

Courtney knew it was a total stab in the dark, but figured it might lead to some information.