D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“He’s here, Courtney,” Dodger said. “I found out he’s on board.”

“I said don’t talk. I saw Mark. Saint Dane, too.” “What?” shouted Dodger, stunned. They kept moving down the stairs to A Deck. “I tracked Mark through the library. He’s on board with a woman.”

“Yeah,” Dodger agreed. “KEM Limited bought tickets for three people. I got that much, but I couldn’t get their cabins.”

“Listen to me!” Courtney barked. “They know I’m a stowaway. I’ve been running from the crew for half an hour.”

“Oh,” Dodger said flatly. “Not good.”

“I don’t know if they know about you. Saint Dane might not even know you’re here. But they’re going to get me sooner or later, so it’s up to you. You’ve got to find Mark. Do you still have his picture?”

Dodger jammed his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out the old photo of Mark and his parents.

“He doesn’t look much like that anymore,” Courtney said. “His hair is cut short. He’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a suit that makes him look like he’s grown up. But he isn’t. He’s just… Mark.”

They made it across A Deck and climbed back up to the Main Deck.

“Saint Dane is in the form of Andy Mitchell,” Courtney continued, breathless. “Remember the cab driver who nearly drowned us?” “Like I could forget?”

“That’s him. I don’t know who the woman is. I’ve never seen her before.”

“I’m thinking she’s some kind of actress,” Dodger declared. “You know, a Hollywood-type dame.” “Why?”

“‘Cause she’s using a made-up name.” “You found her name?”

“I told you, I got three names from the passenger list. Mark Dimond, Andy Mitchell, and a lady. At least, I think it was a lady. I never heard of a name like that.”

“What is it?”

Dodger reached for the door that would lead them back into the enclosed section of the Main Deck. “It’s Nevva Winter,” he said. “Who ever heard of a crazy name like that?” Courtney froze.

The door opened before Dodger could grab it. He was pushed behind the open door as two ship’s officers stepped out. If Courtney’s brain hadn’t locked at the sound of that name, she probably would have turned and run. She didn’t get the chance. The two officers jumped her and firmly grabbed her arms.

“That’s enough gallivanting around for one night, missy,” one officer said.

They led her back inside. The door closed behind them. They never saw Dodger.

A few hours later, after being interrogated by the ship’s security officer (to whom she said nothing), and officially identified as a stowaway, Courtney found herself alone in a hospital-like room toward the stern of the ship. It was called the “isolation ward.” It was where they put people with contagious diseases, to keep them away from the rest of the passengers. There was nothing Courtney liked about that. The room had four white bunk beds with clean sheets, and a sink. It was comfortable enough, and thankfully, there were no other occupants. The metal door closed with a loud clang and was locked securely from the outside. A single round window in the door allowed outsiders to check on the occupants of the ward without having to actually breathe the same air. It may have looked like a hospital, but Courtney knew what it really was. A jail cell. She was sentenced to spend the rest of her voyage locked up.

The job of finding Mark and stopping him was officially Dodger’s.

(CONTINUED)

Courtney paced the small hospital room, trying to come up with a plan. Any plan. Everything she thought of started with her getting out of that lockup, which was impossible. Time was running out. Mark was in danger. If events followed the history she’d seen on Third Earth, someone was going to shoot him and dump his body overboard. Soon. There was nothing she could do but hope that Dodger would somehow get to him before the killer.

Courtney tried the door handle for the fiftieth time. It was just as locked as the previous forty-nine times. The face of her guard appeared in the round window in the door. He was a friendly enough guy who introduced himself as Sixth Officer Taylor Hantin. It was his job to watch over Courtney and make sure she stayed put, though Courtney didn’t think he had to bother. There was no way she was getting out of that steel dungeon. She was about to try the door handle for the fifty-first time, when an idea struck her that was so simple, she kicked herself for not thinking of it before. Now that the crew knew she was on board, there was no longer any need for secrecy. couldn’t get to Mark, Mark might come to her. She leaped at the door and knocked on the round glass. “Excuse me!” she called politely.

Sixth Officer Hantin appeared at the window. Courtney thought he was probably in his twenties. He was young to be an officer, but then again he was a sixth officer. Not exactly high up in the officer pecking order.

“Yes, miss?” he replied politely.

Courtney was happy she wasn’t being treated like a dangerous criminal. The British crew was polite. Or at least, as polite as you can be while locking you into a tin can and watching you with a loaded gun on your hip.

“I know I don’t deserve any special consideration, but it’s very important that I see one of the passengers,” Courtney said. She tried to sound as innocent and helpless as possible.

“I’m afraid that’s against regulations, miss,” he replied, but with sympathy.

“I know,” Courtney pouted. “But I’m in a lot of trouble here, and I’ve got nobody to turn to except for my friend. He doesn’t even know I’m here, but he’d want to.”

Every word she spoke was deliberately vague, but the absolute truth.

“I don’t know…”

Courtney sensed he was weakening.

“Could you at least tell him that I’m here?” she begged.

Sixth Officer Hantin looked at Courtney through the glass window. Courtney tried to look as needy as possible. Finally the officer smiled.

“What’s his name?”

“Mark Dimond,” Courtney answered quickly. “Thank you so much, Officer. You don’t know what a wonderful thing you’re doing.”

“It’s ‘Sixth Officer’ and let’s hope I don’t get thrown in the brig the same as you,” he said, and walked off.

Courtney punched the air in victory. She absolutely knew that when Mark found out she was on board, he’d come to see her. She realized that getting caught by the crew might have been the best possible thing to have happened. Saint Dane had turned her in, and it was about to backfire on him.

Courtney went from trying to puzzle her way out of the prison, to fretting over what she would say to Mark. There was so much he needed to know. Mark hadn’t read any of Bobby’s journals from Quillan. He didn’t know that the woman he was with, Nevva Winter, was the Traveler from Quillan and a traitor who’d joined Saint Dane. Without Nevva Winter, Quillan would not have fallen. She betrayed her own people, and the Travelers.

Courtney tried to prepare a speech, but didn’t know where Mark’s head would be. Was he forced into coming to First Earth? Had he been tricked? Or had the unthinkable happened? Had he joined Saint Dane the same as Nevva? She discounted that last option as impossible. No matter what, she knew she had to do two things: stop him from introducing his Forge technology to First Earth, and warn him that somebody on board was going to shoot him. If she could do those two things, dealing with Saint Dane and Nevva Winter would be the least of their problems.

An hour passed. Mark didn’t show. Neither did Sixth Officer Hantin. Courtney started to worry. The ship was big, but not that big. It wouldn’t take Hantin that long to find Mark. Or maybe he’d changed his mind. Or maybe he’d got to Mark and Mark didn’t want to see her. Or could the worst thing have happened already? Could Mark already have been shot? All those possibilities raced through Courtney’s head, making her pace again. With each passing minute she grew more anxious. She was about to bang on the door again and demand to see a ship’s officer, when she heard a squeak. The door was being unlocked.