Saving Thanehaven (22 page)

Kerchunk
. The gate behind Noble revolves again to admit Yestin.

“This reminds me of home,” Yestin remarks. “There should be a train along here soon.”

“A train?” Noble repeats.

“Shhh!”
Lorellina has also forced her way through the revolving gate. Now she lifts one hand and cocks her head. “Do you hear that?”

Noble listens. Sure enough, a faint squealing noise
is growing louder. It’s coming from the mouth of the tunnel to his right. He can feel a slight vibration in the platform beneath him.

“That’s it,” Yestin announces. “That’s the train.”

“Step back!” Noble warns, just as a disembodied female voice rings out.

“The next connection is for 709348880021743. The next connection is for …”

“We have to catch that connection!” By now Lorellina is shouting, because the squeal is rapidly becoming a roar. “What should we do—block its path?”

“With what?” Noble looks around frantically for something to throw into the ditch. But there’s nothing except the gate, which is firmly bolted down. And even though he probably has the strength to rip it apart, he certainly doesn’t have the time.

“It’s okay,” Yestin loudly assures him. “We don’t
really
have to catch this train. We just have to get on it.” The noise has become almost deafening. There’s a blast of hot air and a giant
whomp
and suddenly a vehicle like a huge silver truck emerges into the light, shrieking horribly as it slows down. “There are doors, see?” Yestin bellows. “They’ll open for us!”

Nodding, Noble covers his ears. He can see the doors—and the windows. The train’s interior is well lit and completely unoccupied. He watches empty seats roll past him at an ever-decreasing speed. There seem to be hundreds. At last, the train sighs and stops.

Its many doors slide open, hissing like snakes.

“I hope this isn’t a trap,” Lorellina remarks.

Noble shrugs. “We can’t go back now,” he observes, stepping onto the train. When nothing happens to him, the others follow his example. They all sit down warily on a row of hard blue seats.

“Doors closing,” says the disembodied female voice.

With a jolt and squeal, the train begins to move again. The well-lit platform rapidly flickers out of sight. Soon, there’s nothing beyond the windows but impenetrable blackness.

“This train is bigger than the shuttles on our spaceship,” Yestin comments.

Noble doesn’t say anything. He’s worked out that they’re sitting in only one small part of the train, which seems to be made up of a dozen or so vehicles strung together. Thanks to all the windows, he can see into the two adjoining vehicles—which appear to be empty.

He can’t be sure, though. Someone might be hunkering down behind the seats.

I wonder if it’s possible to pass along this train while it’s moving
, he thinks.

“Are we in Mikey’s phone now?” Lorellina asks suddenly. Noble is so preoccupied that it takes him a few seconds to process her question, by which time Yestin has already answered it.

“No. We’re
heading
for Mikey’s phone.”

“Good.” The princess sounds relieved. “Because there’s no one here to give our message to.”

Noble grunts. He’s listening to the
clackety-clackety
that’s coming from beneath the train and wondering if he should be worried about it. Perhaps not. Then Yestin says, very softly, “I hope we can get back.”

Lorellina stares at him. “What?”

“Well … if our message reaches Mikey, we might not have time to go home. Not before his computer’s turned off.”

Lorellina seems unimpressed. “So?”

“So we can’t get into the computer once it’s turned off,” Yestin explains.

Noble and the princess exchange horrified glances. Then something occurs to Noble. “We used all our tokens,” he says. “What if we need more of them to catch the train back again?”

“I
knew
this was a trap!” Lorellina is becoming more and more agitated. “The Kernel is a liar! We should never have agreed to deliver his message! Why would we
want
Mikey to turn off his computer?”

“Because if he doesn’t, it’s going to crash,” Yestin insists. When Lorellina lifts her lip in a sneer, he adds, “Didn’t you see what was happening back there?”

“I saw. And I was told to blame Rufus. But what if the
Kernel
was to blame?”

“No.” Yestin shakes his head. “Believe me, that wasn’t the Kernel’s fault.”

“How do you know?” the princess demands.

“Because he runs the operating system. And the operating system would only do that if it had been sabotaged.” Yestin turns to Noble, his bony face puckered into an anxious frown. “
You
believe the Kernel, don’t you? It’s Rufus who was lying, not him.”

Noble doesn’t know what to think. He finds it difficult to believe that Rufus ever
meant
to cause any harm, even if harm was somehow caused. And he’s also convinced that the Kernel was lying when he promised to negotiate with Rufus.

On the other hand, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Rufus is right and the Kernel is wrong. Even Noble can see that. He’s starting to realize that the world is a much more complicated place than he ever expected it to be.

Suddenly, the train begins to slow down. It plunges out of the darkness and into the light. Its windows begin to frame views of another well-lit platform.

By the time it eases to a standstill, wheezing and groaning, Noble is already on his feet.

“Arriving at station 709348880021743,” the disembodied female voice announces. “Arriving at station 709348880021743.…”

“Our stop,” says Yestin, jumping up. He accompanies Noble and Lorellina onto a platform that doesn’t look very much like the last one. This platform has smaller tiles, arranged in more elaborate patterns. There’s a lot of finely molded ironwork. The elevator
sits behind
two
doors, one of which is like the folding wall of a cage.

The button mounted beside it is made of brass, set in a beautifully engraved brass panel.

“Mikey’s phone must be a
really
old model,” Yestin observes, gazing around in astonishment. “Everything here looks antique.”

“You mean we’re inside Mikey’s phone?” asks Noble. “Right now?”

Yestin shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Stand clear. Doors closing,” the disembodied female voice declares. As the train doors slide shut, and the train itself begins to move, Noble wonders—with a sinking heart—if he’ll ever see Thanehaven again.

He doesn’t feel comfortable. Something’s not right about the air, or the light, or the colors. He senses that he doesn’t belong here. He certainly doesn’t want to stay.

“You mean this is where we have to leave our message?” Lorellina demands, glaring around at the empty platform. “But where is everybody?”

Yestin opens his mouth, then hesitates. Only when the train’s departing squeal has become a distant whine does he finally point to a mosaic pattern above the elevator door. “That says
EXIT
. Maybe there’ll be someone upstairs.”

“Come on.” Noble moves forward. “Let’s go.”

He jabs at the brass button on the wall, instinctively
copying the Kernel’s actions. Almost at once, there’s a clanking sound. Then the inner door of the elevator bangs open behind the bronze-colored mesh that’s protecting it.

Noble finds himself gazing through the mesh at another very small room. But unlike the last elevator, this one is richly paneled in dark, glossy wood—and is already occupied. A young man wearing a red uniform and white gloves smiles politely as he leans forward to push aside the bronze mesh door. He has a round, freckled, snub-nosed face and a blond crewcut under a rimless cap.

“Going up,” he chants. “Where to, sir?”

“Um …” Noble isn’t sure.

“Message for Mikey?” It’s Yestin who answers.

“Hop in,” says the young man.

Noble, Yestin, and Lorellina all manage to squeeze into the luxurious little elevator; then its operator slams the cage door shut behind them. Once the inner door closes, the operator presses another button, and the elevator starts to ascend jerkily, with a low-pitched whine.

No one says anything. Even the young man remains silent until the elevator comes to an abrupt halt.

“Here you are,” he says, once again leaning forward to drag open the doors. “There’s your in-box.”

“Where?” Noble can’t see a box. He’s looking at a very large room that’s seething with activity. Along the
wall opposite the elevator about two dozen women are sitting on high stools, sticking wires into panels full of holes, then pulling them out again. All these women have short, curly hair and calf-length skirts; they’re gabbing away into mikes, making a tremendous din. Other women are sitting at rows of desks in the middle of the room, tapping away at black machines that look a bit like Mikey’s computer—except that they don’t have screens. Wooden doors and frosted-glass panels line the left-hand side of the room, while on the right-hand side is one long row of filing cabinets.

Noble guesses that these cabinets must be full of paper, since they’re almost identical to the ones he saw in the Archive. Besides, the whole
room
is full of paper. All the people bustling around have armfuls of paper. There’s paper sprouting from every black machine. And great towers of paper are stacked on the desks.

“Try over there.” Beside him, the young man points at a nearby counter. “See that window? That’s the in-box.” With a beaming smile and a white-gloved salute, he steps aside to give his three passengers an unobstructed exit. “You have a nice day,” he adds. “And thanks for visiting International Mobile Equipment Identity number 709348880021743.”

Noble catches the princess’s eye. She shrugs. There’s no way they can turn back now.

So they step across the threshold and advance into the busy room, with Yestin trailing behind them.

A
woman carrying a bundle of paper is clacking along in high-heeled shoes. She nearly bumps into Noble, who dodges her just in time.

“Excuse me,” she trills. “So sorry.”

Other women are darting between desks and doors, loaded down with sheets of paper in every color of the rainbow. A loud buzz of conversation is interrupted, now and then, by a clanging bell or a banging drawer. There’s so much going on that no one seems very interested in the three newcomers, who thread their way cautiously through a network of desks toward the in-box service window.

A gray-faced man is sitting there, perched behind a brass-topped counter. He’s small and thin, with a green eyeshade strapped to his balding head. His
ink-splattered shirtsleeves are rolled to the elbow; he wears a black waistcoat and has a pen tucked behind one ear. Arranged in front of him are a stamp, a small book, a silver bell, a metal spike with papers impaled on it, and a machine that’s spitting out yet more paper, in ribbonlike coils.

“Yes?” he snaps, when Noble approaches him. “How can I help you?”

“Um …” Noble clears his throat. Before he can proceed, however, Lorellina grabs his arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispers.

“Do what?”

“Turn off Mikey’s computer.” She scans Noble’s face, her green eyes blazing. “Do you trust the Kernel? Do you believe him?”

As Noble ponders this question, Yestin weighs in. “
I
do. I believe him.”

“Why?” Lorellina whirls around to confront Yestin, who flinches. But he doesn’t back down.

“We had computers on board our spaceship,” he quavers. “If Mikey’s computer is anything like them, we
have
to deactivate it, or it can’t be fixed.”

“Suppose you’re right, though?” Noble murmurs. He’s acutely conscious of the man at the window, who has just coughed impatiently. “Suppose we can’t go back to the computer once it’s turned off?”

“Then we’ll have to wait,” Yestin replies. “As soon as the problem’s solved, and the computer is working again, we’ll look for a way back in.” Seeing Lorellina’s
impatient scowl, he squeaks, “At least, it will give us a chance! Once the computer’s trashed, we’ll
never
be able to go home!”

“Truly?” says Noble.

“Truly.”

“Ahem.” It’s the man at the window, who’s drumming his fingers. “Do you have a legitimate message, or not? Because I’m warning you—this phone plan features a spam control option.”

Noble ignores him, focusing on Yestin instead. “What about Rufus? What will happen to Rufus if the computer is turned off?”

Yestin shrugs.

The princess stamps her foot. “Why do you care about Rufus?” she exclaims. “You should be worrying about my poor cousin. What will happen to him? Or to
any
of those we left behind? They are all in grave peril!”

“They are,” Yestin agrees. “And the only thing we can do for them now is to send that message.”

Noble hesitates, trying to rearrange all the scattered images cluttering up his head. A past, he concludes, is difficult to organize—especially when it’s starting to grow longer. For one thing, it’s full of change.
You think you know where someone fits
, he muses,
and then you realize that you don’t
.

He’s feeling trapped and bewildered. The last time he felt like this was before he discarded Smite, back when he had no control over what he was doing. Now
it’s as if his sense of independence is slipping away again.
But maybe I never really
did
gain my freedom
, he speculates.
How could I have been master of my own destiny, when I never even knew what was going on?

He wonders if Rufus has been misleading him—misleading everyone—by promising freedom while withholding information.

Suddenly, the elevator door pings, causing the man at the window to lean forward aggressively. “If you don’t have a message,” he says, “then please step aside.”

“But we do have a message!” Noble blurts out. “A message for Mikey!”

“Oh, yes?” The man surveys them suspiciously. “So which one is it?”

“What?” Noble doesn’t understand.

“Which one of you is the message? Or is it the three of you together?”