Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (43 page)

Johnny decided that getting his two new passengers into the gel pods and trying to explain about folding space would be way too much hassle. Besides, a conventional flight would give Sol some time to install the replacement shield generator. The door to sickbay swished open and he walked through to hear Alf saying, “… if you are quite finished.”

Louise was lying on one of the beds with Rusty curled contentedly at her feet, while Alf monitored an instrument panel next to her. As Johnny entered she sat up, turned to him, and said, “Bit of a temper your robot, hasn't he? Nice piece of kit though.”

“I
am
listening in case you were unaware of this,” said Alf. “Master Johnny—I must protest at this treatment. This human insists on calling me a simple robot and asking me what
stuff
I am programmed for. Please tell her I am an artificial life form, I am trying to perform a complex medical procedure and she is proving very distracting.”

“All right threepio. Don't blow a fuse,” said Louise. “It's only a few stitches.”

“I think she heard, Alf,” said Johnny, trying hard not to laugh. “How's it going?”

“As I have been saying to your … your friend, it is not simply a few stitches, though I hate to imagine what she means by that. I am repairing severe damage to her internal organs, which may take several days and some considerable skill to heal. If I am not constantly interrupted.”

“OK, metal man—I can take a hint,” said Louise. She lay back down on the bed.

“Thank you,” said Alf, who sounded at the end of his tether.

“Where's Bentley?” Louise asked. It was clearly very hard for her to lie still and do nothing.

“Left him with my dad,” Johnny replied. “He needed the company. You seen Clara?”

“Yeah. She was in here earlier—seemed a bit down.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny sat down on the edge of Louise's bed.

“Come on—I thought you were pretty bright. If I had that nutter down there—no offense but I spent a day with him—as my father I'd be upset.”

“That's not fair.”

Louise sat up again, making Rusty whine, while Alf threw his hands up in despair. She looked at Johnny and said, “Listen—I can see he's been through a lot, but all he talked about was his Nicky, little Johnny and Mary. Never mentioned anything about Clara once. How d'ya think that makes her feel?”

“He'll get better. He's started already. It's just … it's just he's never seen her before.”

“And I thought my family was weird. You lot take the biscuit. What are you going to do about it?”

“It's not my fault.” Johnny knew he'd got a lot of things wrong over the past few days but he didn't see how he could be blamed for this.

“I'm not saying it is, but you've got to talk to her, Johnny. She's only got you—you've got your dad … and Bentley.” Louise sighed as she lay back on the bed as though this was all the most obvious thing in the world.

“Thank goodness for that,” muttered Alf in the background

Johnny thought for a moment. “When we get home we're going to get her mum. We won't be weird—we'll be a proper family.”

“Great—but make sure you tell her.” Louise raised her head and looked straight into Johnny's eyes. “OK?”

“OK,” said Johnny.

He stood up and was about to leave when Louise called after him.

“And Johnny?” He stopped, standing in the open doorway.

“Thanks for coming back. If you hadn't …”

“No worries,” said Johnny. He turned away and ran down the corridor before Louise could burst into tears. As he reached the antigrav lifts he asked, “Sol—where's Clara?”

“Clara is in the strategy room on deck 14.”

“Deck 14,” said Johnny as he stepped into mid-air and began flying downward. He stopped moving, hovered in front of the Level 14 corridor and then stepped forward onto solid ground. His mind was definitely made up—the Chancellor could wait. It was its own fault it had gone off. Tomorrow they'd fold their way straight into St. Catharine's and bring Mum back to sickbay. Between them Sol and Alf would make her better in no time. The door to the strategy room opened. Clara was on the very far side of the force-field table, staring out of the windows into space. She didn't turn round, but said, “I can see your stars,” pointing to Cassiopeia below them to the right. “They're so much brighter here.”

“There's no atmosphere to block them out,” Johnny replied, as he walked across to join his sister. “Look at that white band. That's the Milky Way, the galaxy. Sometimes it's like I can hear it whispering my name.”

Clara nodded. “Where's Melania?” she asked.

Johnny pointed to the spot. “Weird isn't it? We're there as well as here. I spoke to Bram this morning just as we arrived.”

“I thought it was you!” said Clara. “That head floating by the fire.”

“I told him to give us sticky toffee pudding.”

Clara giggled and Johnny smiled. He was pleased she was laughing. “You know what we're going to do when we get back?
We'll get Mum straightaway—just like the Diaquant said. Then everything will start being loads better.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

“I tried to make a start,” said Clara, pointing to the near-invisible planning table in the middle of the room, “but Sol couldn't find it. I must have got the hospital name wrong.”

“Let's take a look,” said Johnny, turning away from the gigantic window to face the table. “Hi, Sol.”

“Hello, Johnny,” replied the ship.

“Can you give me a projection of St. Catharine's Hospital for the Criminally Insane? Same as you did for the Proteus Institute.”

“From this distance I have to rely on Earth records I have been adding to my database. As I told Clara, there is no mention of such an institution anywhere.”

“But that's crazy,” said Johnny. “It's in Sussex—right by Wittonbury station.”

“This is the area around Wittonbury,” Sol replied, and the see-through table changed to show a high-resolution satellite photograph. “If you can identify the structure I will create a projection.”

Johnny climbed the stairs to the mezzanine platform overlooking the table to give himself a better view. He spotted the train line and followed it south with a laser pointer embedded in his wristcom, until he eventually reached the station itself. “Sol—give me a two mile radius around there, will you?” The image changed and the little town appeared in much greater detail. Johnny had no trouble recognizing some of the buildings surrounding the station. He had no difficulty at all identifying the route he'd taken many times out of the station to St. Catharine's. It was just that St. Catharine's wasn't there in the photographs. The path led to a collection of green fields. “I don't get it,” he said. “Why can't we see it?”

“I cannot guarantee the reliability of images from your planet's satellites, Johnny.”

“Maybe it's like a military thing,” said Clara. “And they don't show it in the pictures.”

“The images do not appear to have been tampered with,” said Sol. “My resources are fully occupied integrating the new shield generator. Once we are safely back on Earth I will make the problem a priority.”

Clara looked crestfallen. She was about to say something but Johnny put his finger to his lips and shook his head. As innocently as he could he asked Sol, “Can you get a message to Kovac? I'm sure he'll find the hospital in no time.”

“It is highly unlikely that such a box of silicon and transistors will find St. Catharine's before I do,” Sol replied. “I shall map the area and perform any necessary searches myself before we reach Earth orbit.”

“I'm sure you will, Sol,” said Johnny grinning at Clara. They walked out of the door and made their way down the corridor.

“I don't think she likes Kovac,” said Clara as they stepped into the lifts.

“The feeling's mutual,” Johnny replied. They reached the door to his quarters, which swished open. Bentley barked a hello from next to their dad, who was crouched in the corner turning Johnny's battered games console over and over in his hands. “Want to say goodnight?” Johnny asked.

Clara stood in the doorway staring at her father for a few seconds. “No—I think I'll leave it tonight,” she said, turning away down the corridor as the door closed silently.

Johnny walked across to the corner of the room. “I'll take that, Dad,” he said, lifting the handheld from out of his father's hands and pocketing it inside his tunic.

“That was my son's,” said Michael Mackintosh, staring up at Johnny full of anger.

“Dad—it's me. It's Johnny.”

“What have you done with him? He was here earlier. I won't let you hurt my family.” Bentley placed his paws on top of his head and whimpered softly. Johnny wished he knew the right thing to say. “I won't let you hurt my kids,” said his dad, but the strength had gone out of his voice. He curled himself up into a little ball on the floor.

At Johnny's request the bed folded out of the invisible join in the wall. He picked the duvet and a pillow from it, lifted his dad's head off the floor and slid the pillow underneath, before gently covering him with the quilt. There didn't seem anything else to be done for now, so he went and lay down on the bed, said, “Lights off,” and was immediately plunged into darkness. “Sol—wake me up when we're thirty minutes away or you've got a fix on St. Catharine's. Or on the Jubilee for that matter.”

“Of course, Johnny,” replied the ship.

“Night, Dad,” said Johnny, but there was no response. He lay wide awake with his eyes open, getting increasingly used to the darkness in the room, wondering what the next day would have in store. Bentley curled up at the foot of the bed and was soon snoring. Johnny could tell his dad was asleep from the regular rise and fall of the duvet on the floor and the steady breathing from the corner. He wished he, too, could get to sleep. He wished it even more, as his father began muttering away to himself and Johnny spent the night listening to his dad's nightmares and imagining the terrible things the krun must have done to him over the past decade.

It was a gloriously crisp morning. The commuters, all looking the same in their dark suits and ties and shiny black shoes, were busy funneling through the entrance to the London Gherkin, which was framed against a clear blue sky. As Clara prepared for
the fold, Johnny studied her face, wondering how Alf had known when to give the signal before. He'd told Sol not to disturb Alf, who was still looking after Louise in sickbay. Instead, he'd decided to come in the shuttle with Clara. Besides, he'd been dying to do it ever since Clara had told him about the last time. Breaking orbit like that and coming down from the jet black of space all the way through the clouds, while invisible, had been awesome. He was about to say how great it was for probably the hundredth time, when he noticed the expression on Clara's face change. It was as though she was somewhere else now—the same look Johnny had seen that first time on Cheybora, when Valdour had kept her out of the gel pods. He knew she was ready. Raising the wristcom to his mouth, he said, “Now, Sol.”

Johnny looked up. There'd been no sound and nothing to see, but he could feel it was the Spirit of London now towering magnificently above him. Of course the workers who, a moment before, were walking through the giant M and W entrance into the Gherkin had no idea they were instead now stepping straight into hyperspace—into a little pocket of the universe that hadn't existed a second earlier. He stood up and helped Clara to her feet. She smiled at him, wobbled for a moment but then found her balance and they joined the crowds of people walking across the paving and toward the giant spaceship. Before they'd taken more than half a dozen steps a familiar voice squeaked inside Johnny's ear.

“Johnny … Clara … help me.” It was the Chancellor.

“What's happened?” Johnny asked, raising his wristcom to his mouth as he and Clara stared at each other.

“They're coming … help me.”

“Who's coming? … Where are you? … Gronack?” Johnny's questions were met with silence. “Sol,” he continued. “Where was that message from?”

“Computing … approximately 743.5925 meters from here
on a bearing of 141.42 degrees. The street name is Tower Bridge Road.”

“Come on,” said Clara. “That's just down here. You can see Tower Bridge from Sol.”

She started running and Johnny soon caught her, speeding downhill toward the Thames past the startled workers. Sol guided them as they sprinted through the streets, Johnny now ahead of Clara, hoping to reach the Chancellor before it was too late. Soon a square turret connected to giant, light blue suspension cables came into view that marked one side of the famous bridge.

“How much further, Sol?” Johnny asked as he looked ahead for some sign of the phasmeer.