The Aurora City Page 7

  The next morning, Culpeper was graced by a cold front that left a stark blue sky, and dead calm. Markman met John Paul at the Taslam Industries building’s guard station. “We’ll be back early tomorrow. I promise,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t stay in Aurora long enough to get into the Crillian library stuff. That second trip was kind of a brain drain.”

  “It was fine,” replied John Paul. “We have enough data to keep us busy until you return. The library search may prove to be a long and dragged out affair. The two of you have done well. We are indebted to you.”

  “Not really. I’m pretty sure we’re all in this for the same reasons.”

  “By the way, I have something for you. It will increase your efficiency, so to speak.” John Paul motioned Markman to follow. He led him outside the building and around to the side parking lot. There, parked in the first space, was a shiny new, black Corvette convertible. John Paul paused to read Markman’s reaction. Markman stared back with a confused look. “This unit has some special features. It is invisible to radar. It has collision avoidance. The windshield will become infrared if you ask for it, so you can see at night with or without lights. The seats will stun the occupants if they are individuals you don’t like or someone attempting to steal it. It will also stun everyone up to a fifty-foot radius should that become necessary. If you or Cassiopia are within that radius when the stun occurs, it will mask you both from the stun. It has extensive self-protection features. It cannot be stolen or towed unless you authorize it. It can traverse the roadways with no driver at all and will find and come to you if you speak those commands into the key chain. No vehicle on the road can match its acceleration or speed. There are a host of other features. You’ll need to study the tablet in the storage compartment. There is one for you and one for Cassiopia. The tablets are normal, password-protected devices until you or she touches them. Then, all classified material becomes available. You can also ask the car itself for information. It will speak to you and understand you. It responds to the name, Core.”

  “You can’t be serious. You’re giving us this to drive? You’re kidding about some of that stuff you just said, right?”

  John Paul laughed. “The paint on this car cannot be scratched, even by you.” John Paul handed Markman the keys. Markman stood with his mouth open.

  John Paul smiled. “At least I’ll know you won’t be late for anything,” he said. “We’ll take care of your rental. You won’t be needing it.” John Paul chuckled to himself and walked away smiling.

  It took a few minutes for the wonder to wear off. Markman finally climbed in and took the wheel. Cautiously, he switched on the ignition and sat in awe of the 0,000,002 readout on the odometer. He started the engine and listened to the smooth rumble, a throaty sound that seemed to promise more speed than any man could hope for. On a whim, he commanded, “Core, shift to drive.”

  A raspy male machine voice answered. “Please engage brake.”

  Markman stepped on the brake pedal and sat wide-eyed as the shifter jumped into drive all by itself. He pulled out onto the road and had to overcome doubt that he might not be actually driving the thing. A few swerves to the left and right assured him he was. The ride to the hotel was brisk. He shut it down and called Cassiopia on his cell. “Hey.”

  “Hi. I’m just about set. I still cannot get him on the phone.”

  “I’m parked illegally right in front of the hotel. Should I find a spot and come up?”

  “No. I’m on my way down. Do you need anything from up here?”

  “Nope. Believe me; I’ve got everything I need.”

  Markman found a pair of dark sunglasses in Core’s storage compartment. He put them on and tried to be Mr. Cool as Cassiopia came trotting out the front door of the hotel. She stopped halfway there, looked around for some other vehicle, and then stared. With a look of bewilderment, she came up to the driver’s door. “What is this?”

  “A present from John Paul. He said it would increase our efficiency.”

  “How will I ever compete with that man?”

  Cassiopia pranced around the front, dropped her bag behind the seat and climbed in. Looking for her seat belt, Markman surprised her by grabbing her chin and planting a long, passionate kiss on her lips. “John Paul has no chance against you.”

  Cassiopia smiled back affectionately. “I’ve never ridden in one of these.”

  Markman laughed. “Neither have I. Core, say hello to Cassiopia.”

  To Cassiopia’s surprise, a raspy male voice greeted her. “Good morning, Cassiopia. Please fasten your seat belt.”

  Cassiopia looked at Markman inquisitively.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he said, and he placed the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. “Will the wind be too much?”

  “No. Not at all. I love it.” She twisted sideways to wrap her hair behind her head and began looking the car over.

  “There’s a tablet in the storage compartment you need to study. It’ll tell you all about this thing.”

  “That will have to wait. I need to keep on with the sensesuit system material. There’s so much.”

  Cassiopia settled in with her tablet and began studying. Markman played with his car.

  “Core, music.”

  “Please state category.”

  “Beatles.”

  “Please state individual recording, specific collection, or dates.”

  “Revolver.”

  Immediately the requested music began playing. Markman smiled at his accomplishment and soaked in the countryside, over-steering occasionally to reassure himself he was still driving.

  Cassiopia immersed herself in study. She wore her dark rimmed, low power reading glasses as she stared at the intricate schematic drawings on her tablet. As Markman settled in with his new, best toy, he began stealing looks at her. She was wearing a deep blue flounce skirt that came above the knee. The wind kept lifting it slightly. For Markman, it was distracting. She had a gray, loose silk v-neck blouse that ruffled in the wind. Her ivory blond hair kicked about in the turbulence as though it were trying to escape its tie.

  Markman’s mind slipped back to the subject of marriage as he glanced over at the beautiful woman beside him. What if she was opposed to marriage? If that was the case, and he asked her, it would be a big relationship bomb for evermore. And, the arrangement yet-to-be-made with John Paul, did not make things easier. If they accepted his radical offer would marriage still be an option? Markman decided this was not a time to consider asking Cassiopia. He would put the matter aside, though it would continue to be bothersome.

  They reached Knoxville in record time, which surprised Cassiopia. Had she looked up from her studies more often, she would have realized some stretches of road were covered in speeds exceeding one hundred miles per hour. Markman tried to conceal his guilt. Cassiopia kept staring back suspiciously as she unsuccessfully tried to call her father. At the hotel front entrance, she practically vaulted from the car, leaving her bag for Markman. As she darted passed the bellhop and through the front door, Markman waved and called out, “It’s okay, I’ve got it.”

  In the lobby, she tapped at the elevator call button too many times, then patted her leg impatiently as she watched the overhead numbers click down. When the doors finally opened, she spun in and tapped her floor key with unnecessary insistence, then stood with her nose close to the doors until they opened. A brisk walk down the brown carpeted hallway brought her to her father’s door. The do-not-disturb sign was still hanging. She sliced her card key and pushed the heavy door open.

  To her relief, he was sitting on the bed with his feet up staring at a blank TV screen.

  “Father, damn-it-all, are you alright?”

  “Cassiopia! It is wonderful to see you, Daughter.”

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

  “Is the blasted thing shut off again?”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for days. What have you been doing?”

  “
Just resting and this and that.”

  “Too many sidebars, I’ll bet. You’re hiding out, aren’t you.”

  “I am fine, Daughter.”

  “Well, you worried me a great deal. I wish you would check your phone more often.”

  “The thing is a curse.”

  “You always say that, but I need to be able to get in touch with you, after all.”

  “You are right, Daughter.”

  “I’m starved. Come to lunch with me.”

  “Very well.”

  Cassiopia pulled out her cell phone. She dialed Markman.

  “I’m still looking for parking. How is he?”

  “He’s okay, just hiding out as usual. We’re going to lunch at the diner on the corner.”

  “You guys go ahead. I’ll bring up the bags, change, and catch up.”

  “Okay. We’ll save you a seat.”

  After helping her father straighten his tie and slip on his dress jacket, Cassiopia grabbed him by the arm and dragged him downstairs. Outside on the sidewalk, the Professor seemed to need time to adjust to the light. He collected himself and was led by his determined daughter to a patio table at the nearby restaurant. They sat and studied their surroundings.

  “Haven’t you at least wondered where I’ve been, Father?”

  “Cassiopia, you’re always so busy.”

  “I’ve been studying some very interesting programming evolutions. You might be surprised.”

  The Professor stared into the restaurant behind her. She turned to see what he was looking at. “Father, there are some very serious matters we are going to need to discuss.”

  “What would you like to talk about, Daughter?”

  “Now is not a good time. Let’s save it for later.”

  Nearby, an elderly lady emerged from the restaurant, guided by her walker. As she passed, a small purse fell from her feeble grip. Cassiopia bent over, retrieved it and handed it to her. She smiled and nodded a thank-you. To Cassiopia’s surprise, she shuffled her way to the driver’s door of a weathered Ford sedan and balanced herself just enough to open the door. Her climb in was tentative at best, and a prolonged struggle ensued to collapse the walker and drag it in.

  “So Father, what sidebars have they coaxed you into so far?”

  “I have not attended any sidebars.”

  “You haven’t? How could you possibly have avoided them? Where have you been? What have you been doing?”

  Before the Professor could speak, the sound of the sedan starting up dominated the patio. The engine revved far too high and stayed too long. A moment later, a loud squeal of tires pierced the air as the car jumped forward directly at Cassiopia’s table. There was no time to think. Cassiopia dove from her seat intending to escape to one side, but realized the car was headed directly at her father. Lunging wildly, she managed to grab the shoulder of his jacket and threw herself down hoping to pull him with her. The vehicle hit the curb and went airborne, striking the Professor directly in the back, crushing the table along with him. He was torn from his daughter’s grasp and carried ahead, along with broken fragments of tables and chairs. Striking the restaurant’s picture window, the car exploded through and kept going. People were screaming and running, others caught in the flying debris were knocked down or pushed along deeper into the restaurant. As the vehicle settled into a smoking pile of furniture and bodies, the rear wheels lifted off the ground and spun full speed with a hideous scream until the engine finally ruptured and died.

  For a moment there was a deafening silence, punctuated by occasional falling debris, shattering glass, and popping and cracking sounds. A shrill scream suddenly knifed through the desolation. Other screams and cries followed. People began yelling in fearful tones, calling the names of loved ones. Someone began moving debris to escape. Cassiopia pushed herself up onto hands and knees. Her blouse was torn away from one shoulder. Dazed, she climbed up and began searching for her father, calling his name as she went. People were milling about crying, bleeding and in shock. Pieces of tables and chairs were everywhere. The entire glass front of the restaurant was gone except for jagged pieces of glass sticking out of the framework. Dazed, Cassiopia went to the deformed storefront and stepped through the fractured window. She pushed aside torn lumber and draperies from beside the wrecked auto in search of her father. Several unconscious people were sprawled out within the destruction on either side of the car. As she neared the front end, her father’s face came into view, nearly covered by rubble. His eyes were wide open staring at the ceiling. The front of the car covered him up to his chest. A broken section of table lay across his neck. Cassiopia struggled to move enough trash out of the way to kneel beside him. She cleared garbage off of his chest and searched his neck for a pulse but found none. With one hand pressed against her mouth, she choked back the impulse to cry out. Tears began to flow. She pressed her hand against her chest and began to hyperventilate, then searched again for a pulse. A man in a white shirt and tie with a stethoscope around his neck suddenly appeared opposite her. He knelt down and also searched for a pulse. He leaned down and listened for breathing. Sitting up he shook his head sympathetically. “I need to go to the others,” he said, and he stood and began stepping through the debris looking for other victims.

  Cassiopia wept. She repositioned herself and hugged her father’s body. She rubbed at his chest trying to be closer. There was wetness under the car near his stomach. She looked at her hand expecting to see blood but was surprised by a milky-white substance. Still crying, she searched the portion of his stomach beneath the car only to find more of the same fluid. She stopped crying, wiped her eye with the back of her hand, and pulled his torn shirt apart. Something beneath it startled her. It was a white tube sticking out, probably a vacuum tube from the car’s engine. She opened the shirt more and found a ragged incision in his stomach. Something was not right. The tube was coming from within him. She maneuvered to see better and discovered more. The chalky-white fluid was pooled and draining from there. She moved the tubing aside and to her astonishment found wiring. Frantically she pulled everything as open as she could and found her father's stomach and chest was full of tubing, wires, and circuitry.

  Cassiopia sat up straight. This was not her father. It was some sort of robotic machine. Did that mean her father was still alive somewhere? She wiped away more tears and stared down in shock. This android was very advanced technology. Only John Paul’s people had the capability to produce something like this. What was going on? Why had they done this? Why had they substituted an android in place of her father without telling her? She had come to trust John Paul. Was this a violation of that trust? Scott had said it was not wrong to trust. Perhaps there was a reason for all of this. John Paul had said her father was in danger. Had he substituted this duplicate in order to shield her father, and then not told her hoping to keep the facade as realistic as possible?

  Screams and shouting brought her back to reality. She placed her hand on her racing heart, looked at her father’s face and had to consciously force away the thought that it was really him. She wiped her eyes once more and pushed back from the fake body. What to do now? Suddenly she remembered the implant. She glanced around to be certain no one could hear. “John Paul, help, emergency!” She knew he would hear, but he was in Culpeper. By the time he arrived, emergency services would have pulled out the car and found this strange replica of a body. John Paul would never have meant this technology to be seen. Perhaps she should try to stall authorities from moving it? Where was Scott? Were there other people she should be trying to help instead of kneeling here? She looked around and found police officers and bystanders attending to the other victims. She pulled herself back in close to the imposter body and pretended to be still caring for him. A police officer came around the car, saw her and froze. He nodded regretfully and retreated.

  A familiar voice from within the noise of chaos suddenly called her name. A moment later, Markman appeared. “Oh God, no!”

  Cassiopia
shook her head and put one finger on her lips.

  Markman froze with a confused expression. “Are you hurt badly?” he asked and knelt beside her. She pulled her right hand out from under the car and showed him the milky white substance. He stared back in bewilderment. She pulled open the Professor’s shirt enough that he could see tubing and white fluid. He jerked back in repulsion and looked at her with perplexity. As he began to understand, she covered the body over.

  “What is this? What is going on? How badly are you hurt?” he whispered.

  “Just scratches and bruises. I think we should stall or hide this as long as we can so they won’t see it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this thing wasn’t meant to be seen. It must be something from John Paul’s group. I don’t understand it, either. Maybe it’s a decoy to protect my father. I’ve called for John Paul, but it’s only been ten or fifteen minutes. They’ll never get here in time.”

  “They’ll have to raise the car to get him out. That’ll take a while. Problem is, they’ll try to make us leave. They won’t….” Markman stopped in mid-sentence. He stared at something behind Cassiopia. She turned to see. To her amazement, it was one of the men in black standing over them. Out on the sidewalk another was showing his credentials to a police officer. Outside, more ambulance and security people suddenly began showing up. The man in black standing beside them said nothing but began keeping people away. A few minutes passed, and to Cassiopia’s further amazement, John Paul appeared next to the man in black. He nodded to his associate and squatted close to Cassiopia and Markman.

  “How badly are you injured, Cassiopia?”

  “Not bad. This is not my father. It’s a robot.”

  “We’ll take it from here. Get yourself treated and as soon as you’re able, gather your things and meet me back in the lab.”

  “But what is this?” pleaded Cassiopia. “Where is my father?”

  John Paul gave a not-now shake of his head. A second man in black appeared next to them. Markman took Cassiopia by the arm and stood her up. He looked her over carefully. Her knees were scraped and bleeding. There was a cut on the shoulder where her blouse had ripped away. Her skirt was stained and shredded. Markman became alarmed. “Come on. We need to take a closer look at you. How do you feel?”

  Cassiopia suddenly felt faint. She swayed a moment and pushed into him. He caught her with one arm under her shoulder, hooked the other arm behind her knees, lifted and cradled her. Stepping carefully through the confusion, he carried her past the smashed car’s open driver’s door. A paramedic was treating a head wound on the old woman still in the driver’s seat. Other victims were on Gurneys on the sidewalk waiting to be loaded into ambulances. The street had been sectioned off. Firemen were taking debris away. The place looked like a bomb had gone off.

  A crowd of gawkers had gathered outside. They parted to allow Markman and the unconscious woman he carried to pass. On the sidewalk, clear of the bedlam, Cassiopia awoke and groggily pushed herself back to her feet. She staggered a moment, causing Markman to pull her to him, but steadied in his embrace. It was a short walk back to the hotel.

  Back in the room, Markman sat her on the side of the bed and lingered a moment to be sure she wasn’t about to faint again. She sat stiffly, still in partial shock, swaying slightly. In the bathroom, he found a small first aid kit and returned, kneeling in front of her.

  “Alcohol wipes. Little sting here.” He cleaned the wounds on her knees, elbows, and shoulder, then found antiseptic applicators and applied them. Next, there were gauze patches. He gently began taping them in place.

  “Are you sure there are no other injuries? How do you feel?”

  “Just a little dazed, that’s all. The car didn’t hit me. I got out of the way in time.”

  “Can you wiggle your toes and fingers okay?”

  “Yep.”

  “Look at my finger a second, will you?” He held up one finger and moved it left and right, studying her pupils as she followed the movement. “No unusual dilation. Looks like you didn’t hit your head too hard. Still, want to stop in the emergency room and let them check you out?”

  “No way. We’ve got to get to Culpeper. I want to know what’s happened to my father.”

  “If you’re sure, we can leave right now.”

  “You have my permission to drive as fast as you want.”

  “Really?”

  Cassiopia hurried to change. She grabbed a silk printed twill wrap dress and stood by the door waiting for Markman to pull on fresh jeans and a blue dress shirt. On the road, she seemed pensive. Markman kept looking over, wondering if she was really okay.

  “So what do you think?” he dared ask.

  “About which?”

  “Your father was a robot.”

  “I’d like to know whose robot he was.”

  “You think it was put there by John Paul?”

  “Maybe we’ve been sold a bill of goods from the very beginning.”

  “Maybe we’re in over our heads.”

  “Maybe.” Cassiopia looked over at him. “What do you think?”

  “I’m holding off judgment. I’m having trouble believing John Paul is a liar.”

  “How fast are we going?”

  Before Markman could answer, the Corvette spoke. “Ninety-seven miles per hour, averaging eighty-four miles per hour.”

  Markman looked over with a touch of guilt. He wondered if he should let off.

  “Good,” said Cassiopia, and she looked away.

  They slowed outside of Culpeper and continued to the Taslam Industries building. Cassiopia barely waited for Markman to finish parking. She bailed out and headed briskly inside, forcing Markman to trot to catch up. Inside, the security officer looked up, nodded, and said, “Med lab.”

  John Paul was waiting when they arrived. The med lab door tried to hit Markman as he followed speedy Cassiopia. John Paul was in a separate sterile lab adjoining the main med lab. Cassiopia burst in but stopped abruptly. There, on a stainless steel table, was the body of the imitation Professor Cassell. It was naked except for a cloth over the waist. Incisions in the stomach and chest area were held open by clamps. Everything had been cleaned so that more artificial components were visible within. One of John Paul’s technicians in a white lab jacket was standing over the body, doing something with a silver instrument.

  Cassiopia went to the table and demanded, “Where is my father?”

  John Paul looked up with a solemn expression. “We don’t know…yet.”

  “But this is one of yours, isn’t it?” She gestured toward the duplicate on the table.

  “No, it is not,” replied John Paul.

  Cassiopia began to ask something else but stopped when the technician straightened up and held up something in a matchbook-sized clear cube. He handed it to John Paul.

  “It’s your father’s implant,” said John Paul. “We’ve encased it in sterolite to preserve everything about it. It may provide clues.”

  “Clues to what?” asked Cassiopia.

  “Please, let us go to the commissary. I could use a cup of coffee. This discussion will be of some length, I suspect.”

  Together they made their way to the serving counter in the commissary, ordered drinks, and moved to a nearby table.

  Cassiopia remained impatient. “Where is my father?”

  “He has been abducted,” replied John Paul.

  “By who?” she asked off-balance.

  John Paul sipped his coffee and stared down into it. “We are working the problem from several different directions. I cannot tell you just how many resources are being devoted to this. Be assured; there is nothing more important than finding and recovering your father.”

  “Who? Who abducted my father?”

  A tired John Paul sat back and rubbed his open hands together. He looked sympathetically at Cassiopia, then Markman. “This is extremely difficult. As you both know, there are some things I have refrained from discussing with you. The two o
f you have not fully consigned your services to this organization.”

  “You mean given up our lives completely,” said Cassiopia.

  “Yes. That is exactly what I mean. So as I’ve told you repeatedly, there are matters that cannot be divulged to persons outside the organization, matters that are beyond and above Earth science.” John Paul paused, then sipped his coffee. Cassiopia remained silent, waiting.

  John Paul continued, “I have done everything possible not to involve you in matters of the higher dimensions so that there would be no conflicts in your Earthly lives. I have not been completely successful in that. There is the matter of knowing about your implants. There is your knowledge of our field operatives. Your current awareness of our organization and its charter is already affecting your view of life. As you can see, by working with us, there is the effect of celestial information gradually effusing into your lives. This happens quite innocently simply through the need to know, and the two of you already know far too much, far more than is prescribed.”

  “All I’m asking is who took my father?”

  “Ah yes, and so we step much deeper into the ocean of higher awareness. And, if we go too far, your minds will no longer be able to doubt the truth. You will be forced to consider as reality things up to this point you have only imagined as intangible possibilities. For Scott, that transition will be a fairly easy one, although he will never be the Scott Markman he was since his life will have become a part of the higher world rather than a worshiper of it. For you Cassiopia, the effects could be harmful. An expansion of your consciousness that cannot be supported by a simple foundation of Earth science. Your mind will be in a state of weightlessness with nothing to hold onto. Quantum physics will no longer reassure you about reality. You will be forced to find faith and hold onto it for understanding.”

  Cassiopia became indignant. “John Paul, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Of that I am certain, Cassiopia.”

  “Where is my father?”

  “Do you understand that if I explain this, you will be delving deeper into our organization and there could be some danger from that?”

  “Yes,” said Cassiopia without hesitation.

  John Paul sat back. “Okay, but to quote a gifted writer; remember, all I’m offering you is the truth, nothing more.”

  “Please, John Paul….”

  “So we shall leap without looking. Very well. Where do I begin? Scott, have you read Revelations?”

  “I’ve read every word in the Bible along with most of the books not included. I particularly liked The Book Of Enoch.”

  “Cassiopia, have you read Revelations?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with….”

  “Please, let me continue.”

  “Has either of you read the Koran?”

  Markman raised one hand, “Read it.”

  Cassiopia shook her head.

  “Have either of you read the Tanakh?”

  Markman raised his hand once more. “Oh yeah!”

  Cassiopia said nothing.

  “In these books, reference is made to a war that takes place in heaven, a war in which evil is cast out forever. In some cases, this war is interpreted as one that marks the end of the world. In other circles, it is considered a battle that ends an age of civilization or ends a period of society. Most people view the battle from the point of view of their own lives. When will it happen? How long will it really last? What will become of me? So, from that perspective what we have is a very simplistic view of a battle that, in reality, defies description. That’s why it is told in symbolism and motif. It cannot be described or explained in simple human language. The truth is, the battle described in Revelations began hundreds of years ago on levels far above us. And in fact, the war has been all but won on those higher dimensions. You see, there never actually was any question about the outcome. There never was any chance of evil conquering good. If you doubt that, take a look at some of the heroic deeds that mere humans have made, sacrificing themselves around the world. One of the problems with vanity is self-delusion. Evil was deluded because of its own self-importance, and selfishness. It never really had a chance. The only reason for the battle was to gain time for those people undecided about their allegiance to good or evil. Many, balanced precariously on that line, have come to understand that the meaning of evil is hatred, suffering, and destruction, while the path of good leads to love, peace, and understanding. Waiting for those prodigal sons and daughters has been worth the price, even the terrible consequences we see all around us every day.”

  Cassiopia squirmed in her seat. “Please, John Paul. I don’t know about any of this. I only want to know what’s happened to my father.”

  John Paul nodded patiently. “As this heavenly battle continued, and those heavenly beings that had become committed to evil began to retreat from heaven, their only recourse was to take refuge and hide in lower dimensions. As each of those lower areas was lost, they continued their downward escapes until some had only this Earth as their last resort. They hoped to hide within groups of the selfish, greedy, vain people here on Earth, but even that was only a temporary escape. As the net tightened around them, in desperation they sought to find alternate dimensions to escape to. For a few of the leaders, that became their primary goal; finding access to alternate dimensions, or even alternate universes.”

  Cassiopia sat up straight. “No!”

  John Paul nodded. “Yes. Your father is the foremost genius on Earth when it comes to multiverse theory. Even he does not realize that. Cassiopia, do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “But who or what are these people?”

  “It is enough to say they are formally heavenly beings who have taken on human form and are desperately trying to hide or escape. They have knowledge and powers above those of this Earth. They have taken your father in the hope that his genius combined with their knowledge will help them open a gateway to somewhere they can escape.”

  “When? When did all of this happen? How could I not know?”

  “The accident with the train. Our operatives on the train reported at the time that something seemed suspicious, but the diversion was too well played. They knew what we could detect and carefully worked around it. They needed about an hour to copy your father’s recent engrams to their imitation professor. They couldn’t do that at your home. You were too well guarded. They staged the train accident, moved their equipment onto the train, captured your father, and did the transfer right there. They removed your father’s implant and installed it in the android. Because the transplant location never altered from where the Professor was expected to be, it did not raise any suspicion.”

  “Well, is he alright then?”

  “Yes. He is only valuable to them alive and well.”

  “How will you find him?”

  “It won’t take long. You must remember, before this ever happened we were already after these…individuals. They were on the run. Operatives from higher levels than ours were on their trail and closing in.”

  “Operatives from higher levels than yours?”

  “Let us not go there, Cassiopia.”

  Markman interrupted. “So John Paul, none of this has anything to do with the sensesuit work?”

  “I would not go that far, Scott. There may very well be a connection somehow. We need to continue the sensesuit work vigorously, if possible. However, because of your knowledge and familiarity with the Professor, we may need to break from the sensesuit study at some point and use the two of you to help recover the Professor.”

  “I want to go and find my father right now. Nothing else matters,” exclaimed Cassiopia.

  John Paul tried to sound sympathetic. “Cassiopia, where will you begin your search for fallen angels, and what will you do if you find them?”

  Cassiopia sat speechlessly. She turned to Markman for support. Markman did not answer, but secretly he knew what he would do when he found them.

  Chapter
8