A week after Kendra had been shoved into her new lab at
American Missile, she was allowed to leave the grounds for the first time to present
her paper at the astrophysics conference.
“Don’t even think about pulling any sort of stunt,” said Matt,
who was seated next to her in the second row of the huge, packed
amphitheater. He lifted his fist,
clenched around the pain remote, to emphasize his point.
Kendra winced, and ran a finger under the silver necklace she
wore. Matt had grown more tense
through the two long day of lectures.
It was a few minutes before seven in the evening of the second day, and
he seemed tight enough to twitch.
She dreaded the thought that he might accidentally trigger the remote.
“I’ve behaved perfectly since we’ve been here, haven’t I?” she
replied softly, hating even the pretense of compliance.
“And here to present her paper, “A Star to Steer By”, is
Kendra Tanagawa, Stamford PhD candidate, early publishing sensation, and recent
hire at American Missile,” announced the master of ceremony. How did he know the last bit? It hadn’t been in the bio she submitted
to the conference months earlier.
American Missile was one of several industrial giants to sponsor the
conference, and the AM logo seemed to be everywhere, like an omniscient overseer.
Kendra stood to a smattering of applause. The crowd had already sat through
eleven hours of 30-minute talks that day, not counting breaks for lunch and
supper.
At the same moment that Matt pinched her leg in yet another
warning, Kendra realized that someone in the audience applauded more loudly
than the others. She searched the
dark auditorium as she shuffled sideways out of the second row, and stumbled a
bit when she reached the carpeted aisle that led toward the stage. Matt, of course, had not allowed her to
wait in the wings like every other speaker had done. He made up some nonsense about her agoraphobia, and kept her
at his side until the last minute.
Kendra heard the murmur of conversation swell during the
minute or two it took her to jog to the huge stage and up the steps at the
side. Her knees wobbled as she
climbed the stairs to the stage.
Should she run into the dark wings and just keep going? She had no idea how far the link
between the pain remote and her jewelry would stretch. If only she could take off the damn
things, but the clasps were tiny combination locks, and she’d been unable to break
the slim silver cords. They must
have been made from some new titanium compound.
An usher met her at the top of the stairs to escort her to the
podium. Kendra put him between her
and the audience and used the momentary screen that his body offered to try
again to slip her hand through the bracelet. She made it farther than she ever had, but her hand was half
in and half out when the usher left her at the podium. If the master of ceremony tried to shake
her hand, and surely he would, she would have no hand free for the notes she
held in her right hand. Matt would
see what she’d done.
The master of ceremonies extended his hand. Kendra held her notes in front of
herself, with her left hand underneath, then she bowed to the MC. He looked flustered, but quickly
recovered and returned the bow.
Academia never failed to give the appearance of being politically
correct.
Kendra set her notes on the podium, adjusted the mic, and
began to speak. As she spoke, she
worked the bracelet down her left hand, millimeter by millimeter, until her
hand was free. Giddy with success,
she put the bracelet on a little shelf in the podium, and looked out at her
audience for the first time. The
auditorium was dark and huge. It
seemed to hang right in front of her.
The spotlights shone in her eyes.
Kendra could make out odd bits of light-colored clothing and the
occasional pale face, but she had no idea how many people had stayed for her
talk. She focused on her notes and
pointed out the highlights of the slides she’d brought. She did not look out at her audience
again.
Only a few people lined up to ask questions from the mics that
had been set around the auditorium.
Kendra answered each question succinctly. No one seemed to have picked up on the implications of
paper, namely time travel, so she was surprised when a man stepped in front of
Matt to intercept her at the bottom of the stairs.
“Ms. Tanagawa, I’ve read all your work, and have been most
anxious to ask you a few questions.”
The man was elegantly dressed in a tan silk suit, and a burgundy shirt
and tie. He spoke with a strange
intensity. Great, my only fan
is a psycho. Kendra lifted her
gaze to see Matt scowl at her from behind the man, and gesture with his head toward
the exit.
Kendra took a step toward the exit, but her strange fan was
faster. Again he cut Matt off.
“Perhaps you would join me for a late supper, or a
drink?” The stranger had a faintly
British accent.
“Oh, thank you,” she said without really looking at him, “but
we really need to get back to the lab.”
Kendra nodded toward Matt.
“Wonderful, then the three of us will go.”
“Listen, buddy--”
Matt didn’t get any farther. The stranger moved impossibly fast. Kendra blinked. In the next instant Matt walked
beside the stranger, who had his arm around Matt’s shoulders as if the two
really were buddies.
Kendra didn’t think it wise to leave a safely crowded convention
center with a stranger who could subdue a sociopathic industrial spy. She turned to hurry up the next aisle,
away from both men.
“Wait,” said the stranger. His voice sounded like a plea, as if he might weep if she
left. “Please come with me,
Kendra. You know me. We met…recently, though I have felt
hundreds of years pass.”
Kendra whipped around, and looked up into the face of the
vampire whom she had assumed she’d never see again. What a stupid assumption that had been.
