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  “I was, too!” Mr. Stranberg grinned as Karen’s reassurances soaked into his mind. After a long moment, he forced the smile off his face, aware dimly that he was getting confused, but not being disconcerted, and not finding that knowledge as important as he knew he would have previously thought it was. “I think we should talk to your Tutor, just to confirm this for now, until your father gets back. Then we’ll have to discuss curriculum, etc.”

  Richard got up, not knowing quite what he intended to do but deciding that Karen needed his help, then he stopped as he heard her take a deep breath and continue with renewed confidence and a feeling of power somehow apparent in her voice.

  “You don’t really need to see Tutor.” She changed her focus and stared at the policeman. He nodded his head and turned to leave. Richard watched, fascinated by this demonstration of the power that she was able to wield.

  “Wait a minute!” The Principal jumped forward with an astonished glance at the officer as the effect of Karen’s influence on him faded away. “I think we do need to see him, Officer Wayne.”

  Richard turned slightly and asked:

  “Tutor, can you help her?”

  There was a pause, then:

  “I am attempting to augment.”

  Karen turned her face towards the Principal.

  “Oh, he’s really very busy just now; you wouldn’t want to interrupt him.” She glanced at the police officer. “You must have lots of more important things to do,” she suggested, her eyes battleship grey now and her forehead moist despite the cool breeze, as her level of concentration and effort reached a new high.

  Richard leaned closer to the screen. Unconsciously he stared at the two men, as if he, too, could influence their minds. Mr. Stranberg brushed absentmindedly at an imaginary spot on his suit. Richard held his breath, screaming ‘believe!’ in the cavern that seemed to have opened up inside his mind. For what could have been a few seconds or perhaps several minutes, no one moved. Then both men nodded, thanked Karen, and walked slowly down the hill. She stared after them. Richard listened in relief to the faint sound of the wind caressing the battlements. As they neared the police car and reached for the doors, he hurriedly stuttered:

  “Ah, a-audio… at the car.”

  The wind seemed to roar, and the rustle of the leaves crackling as they were crushed under foot was like huge plate glass windows crashing to the ground, then some words, muffled and incomplete, could just be discerned as Tutor filtered out the unwanted sounds.

  “…things are coming… …happy with that…” Then the patrol car pulled away with an explosion of noise like an old Phantom jet-fighter roaring low overhead, after-burners blazing.

  Karen stepped back into the room as Richard pulled his hands away from his ears.

  “I think it worked,” she said, wonderingly, as she collapsed with a sigh onto a cushioned patch that arose from the floor to meet her, and ran the back of her hand over her forehead. “For a moment there I wondered if I could handle both of them.”

  “You convinced those two, but the driver sounded pretty suspicious.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me one bit; they must have seemed stupid to him, leaving without any results but looking completely satisfied,” Karen chuckled.

  Richard leaned against the wall and settled into the chair-like bulge that formed beneath him.

  “Maybe they’ll have a big argument about it.”

  Karen smiled slightly, but did not respond.

  “Your technique is very unstable,” announced Tutor, once they had stopped talking. “I was only able to augment for seven point four two seconds.”

  “It was enough.” Karen flopped further down and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, Richard noticed that they were a dark grey, almost black. “The kids at school were much easier,” she whispered.

  “You may as well turn off the monitors now, Tutor. All Karen needs now is some rest!” Richard stared at the outside views morosely until the moss below the star field was restored. So much for my diversionary tactics. It looks like the fire acted as a beacon and brought them here even quicker than they would otherwise have come. What’s next, I wonder?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Serendipity is an indication of cosmic order – Idahnian

  After Tutor had turned off the audio-visual monitors, and the serene silver light from the stars that Richard had surmised were located in the Galactic Centre had been restored once more, he and Karen sat and soaked up the silence for quite some time. Finally, Richard’s expression changed from contemplation to excitement.

  “Let’s try and keep them happy,” he began, running his hand along one side of his jaw as he continued to think things out. “Let’s keep one step ahead of them!”

  “Who?” Karen, her eyes a little unfocused, looked at him, questioningly.

  “Whoever tries to check up on you next. The Principal and the first police officer were satisfied when they left here, but I don’t think that will last. The driver is probably still arguing with them. If I guess right, he will insist that they phone here, just to see if Tutor is really ‘in residence’.”

  “But we don’t have a phone,” Karen sighed, quite exhausted from her efforts ‘disinteresting’ the visitors. “So how could they phone us?”

  “Not yet, we don’t!” Richard grinned. “Ah, Tutor, could you patch us into the phone system? Make it seem like you and Karen have a regular home here?”

  “Checking,” Tutor said briefly. There was a period of silence lasting about twenty seconds, then: “Yes, I have access to the local network, how many lines do you need?”

  Karen smiled at Richard, impressed by his forethought and proud of her mentor, also.

  “Great stuff!” Richard exclaimed, both relieved and gratified that his expectations were confirmed. “I think one line will do for now. Oh, and can you make the local exchange show a listing for Citadel?”

  “Confirmed. Citadel is now officially part of the telephone communication system; anyone calling information will be able to get the number for S. Amer’s residence at 29 Daniel Street. I’m afraid I can’t insert it into the phone books until the next printing, though,” Tutor apologized.

  “Amazing!” Richard laughed. “Tutor could be a great criminal, without even trying!” After he spoke, he pondered soberly on the marvels he had already discovered that Tutor could achieve, and began to imagine what lengths evil men would go to, to possess Citadel and the secrets contained within it. Those thoughts soon killed the humour that had seemed to exist moments before.

  Later, when they had rested for a while and eaten food produced by the synthesizer from a seemingly endless list of options described in the ‘Sustainable Food Supply System’ (none of which were familiar to Richard, but all of which seemed extremely palatable) the young man lately from Boston stretched out with a sigh.

  “This is the life,” he yawned as the ‘chair’ under him adjusted silently. He looked over at Karen, curled up a few feet away in a shallow depression that had formed automatically in the moss floor. He recalled something she had said the first day he met her, something that he had not understood at the time but did now. “Did you ever try to synthesize that chocolate bar like you said you would?”

  Karen’s eyes opened slightly. “Huh? Oh, no. I’d intended to, but organizing the school fire so that it appeared to be an accident took longer than I thought. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it; I can get one later.” Richard’s eyelids started to droop; a combination of the effects of the food and the stressful day. His chin sank gradually onto his chest and his breathing became slower. Overhead, the stars looked down unblinkingly.

  “An ‘Officer Hughes’ is calling the phone number I allocated to Citadel,” Tutor announced abruptly. “Voice match to sound of driver of police transport is positive, within acceptable error parameters. Do you wish to respond?”

  Richard woke up and started to ask how Tutor could identify the driver when the phone was
still ringing, then decided it didn’t matter.

  “Do you think I should talk to him, Richard?” Karen asked sleepily.

  “Yes... no! Why don’t we let your Tutor answer it?”

  Karen thought about this for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”

  There was a slight crackle as the line was opened, then Tutor’s rich voice started up. “Hello, Amer residence, Karen Amer’s Tutor speaking.”

  “Oh,” P.C. Hughes sounded surprised, to say the least, almost as much as if he had found out that the mythical unicorn really existed, and not only that, but knew how to use a telephone, too. “Mr., ah ...” He paused to give Tutor time to provide a name for their records, but Tutor was silent. “...Karen’s Tutor,” he continued hesitantly, unconsciously capitalizing the title.” This is Hughes from the police department, ah, sir. I was wondering if you were authorized to sign papers on behalf of Karen’s father, as I understand that he’s not home at present.”

  “Tell him he’ll have to wait until my father returns,” hissed Karen.

  “No, Officer Hughes, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until he comes back,” responded Tutor, the warm but totally synthesized voice tinged with the faintest hint of regret.

  “Could you give me any idea when you might be expecting him?”

  Richard and Karen exchanged glances, struggling to think of a suitable response.

  “I can try to contact him, and get him to call you,” Tutor suggested, without waiting for direction. “Would that satisfy you?”

  “Yes, that would do just fine. Just hold a moment, please.” There was a pause, and the sound of a hand being placed over the mouthpiece of the phone. Finally, the hand was removed. “Thank you very much, sir. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Officer Hughes.” The connection was ended.

  Richard clapped, and after a moment’s hesitation, Karen joined in.

  “Bravo, Tutor,” congratulated Richard. “You have just the right style for a private, oh so exclusive teacher.”

  Karen thought briefly how wonderful it would be if Tutor could fulfil his promise. She tried to picture her father, but the memories of a five-year-old refused to provide a clear image. Bittersweet.

  “There’s another call coming in, Karen,” Tutor announced a moment later, breaking in on her daydream. “It’s for you, and the caller is female.”

  “Are phones always like this?” she asked Richard, picking up on his automatic response to rapid phone calls in quick succession.

  “Weeell…” He shrugged, and she of course knew already how he felt.

  She nodded to indicate she would take it. “Karen Amer here.”

  “Hello, Karen, this is Helen Westbrook. I’m with the social services department. I would like to come over this afternoon and talk to you; Officer Hughes was just speaking to your tutor and, as a result of that conversation, I have been requested to visit your home to ensure that the facilities meet certain minimum Federal and State government standards. I’ll be around in about ten minutes. See you soon.”

  There was silence, like that after a tremendous noise. Then Tutor announced:

  “The connection has been broken.”

  “This is getting out of hand!” Richard exclaimed, jumping up and pacing across the room, his movements exaggerated by the nervous energy he tried to contain. “Every move we make seems to make them more interested, not less.”

  “Tutor!” Karen almost screamed in despair as she got to her knees. “Get her back! I can’t see her, not now, and certainly not ever in here. I’m exhausted. I couldn’t disinterest a mouse right now. Don’t say anything if she’s still there, just let me talk.” She looked at Richard, her eyes sparkling despite the dark grey tint of her irises.

  He found himself marvelling at her abilities, and how great she looked, even when she was tired and angry, then he glanced around at the Moss Room once more. Minimum government standards! Richard chuckled to himself at the thought of an inspector trying to rate Citadel in accordance with the Establishment’s latest requirements.

  “You are through,” Tutor announced calmly.

  “Social services.”

  “Is that Helen Westbrook?”

  “Yes, speaking.”

  “This is Karen Amer. I’m so glad I caught you; my tutor is taking me somewhere special this evening to celebrate his remarkable recovery. I have to leave right now. Sorry about that, I’ll call you in the morning and set up a time when you can come around – goodbye!” she ended sunnily.

  “But–”

  “I broke the connection for you,” Tutor confirmed.

  Karen jumped up and grabbed Richard by both hands and they danced around, sharing a sense of triumph in her quick thinking, though they knew it might only provide a temporary reprieve. They realized that their period of grace would be over all too soon; their peace would last only hours, and after that, it would be their safety and the safety of the entire world that would be at stake once more.

  “She’ll be back, of course.” Richard started pacing again. “Or someone else,” he muttered. “Even if they weren’t suspicious, someone would come to read the meter, or fix the drains, or to tell ‘the occupant’ that Citadel would have to be demolished, as no one applied for planning permission to build it!”

  “There must be something else that we can do, before it’s too late,” Karen wailed. “I can’t even stop them from entering Citadel; if they happen upon the door, they can walk right in.”

  Richard looked scared for a moment, then sighed as he thought it through. “That’s okay, they’ll never realize where it is… unless they checked for trails in the grass, or used a dog…” Richard’s reassurance petered out like damp firewood used to start a wood stove on a chilly fall morning.

  “Even if they got in, they’d never figure out how to use Citadel,” Karen said, in an attempt to comfort herself.

  “That wouldn’t matter to them. If they can’t figure it out themselves, then they’d make you tell them,” Richard said quietly.

  Karen’s eyes opened even wider as she caught the tail end of his thought and began to imagine a little of what that process of compulsion might entail.

  “We have to find out how Citadel works before they come back,” he insisted.

  “But I don’t even know where to start!” Karen turned to Richard and grabbed his hands. “It was going to take me years, and I haven’t studied at university or learned anything that would help me to comprehend something as complex and mysterious as Citadel. There’s nothing I know about this place, except of course the living area and the washing pools, and then all I really know is how to feed myself and–”

  “They won’t believe you. We have to act now!” Richard urged her, his sense of impending doom highly exaggerated by the emotions he now felt from his physical contact with her. “There’s got to be something we can do! At least let’s figure out how to close the door!”

  “Tutor, you’ve got to help us;” Karen begged her mentor in her native tongue as she also reacted to Richard’s emotions. “We’re in a desperate situation. Please, Tutor. This is terrible. It’s a, a…” she trailed off, searching for the appropriate word – one learned just once, and long ago, one that she had no previous cause to use. Her body flooded with adrenaline, by the full impact of a kind of positive feed-back of two inter-connected personalities (like two old-style public address systems at opposite ends of a small dance hall, both at maximum volume, starting to build rapidly to a crescendo).

  “Major disaster, I’d call it,” Richard shouted, also lapsing into her language, more than a hint of panic in his voice. “A catastrophe, complete and total.”

  “Emergency!” Karen finished with a gasp, and they collapsed into each others’ arms, sobbing.

  The star-field overhead dimmed to an inconsequential level and an orange glow filled the room from the moss-like surfaces below it. A harsh, synthesized voice – totally unlike Tutor’s warm, friendly tones – reverberated around the walls, the volume loud enough
to compel immediate attention:

  “Total Emergency. ‘Category Five Situation’. Confirm status?”

  Richard and Karen exchanged startled glances, then a wild look of hope appeared in Karen’s tear-streaked face, to be rapidly assimilated by her new companion as their connection deepened.

  “Confirmed: ‘Total Emergency’!” Karen said, loudly, with the slightest hint of wavering in her voice.

  “‘Category Five’ indicates override of security measures for need-to-know records access… witness required.”

  Richard stopped, his hand halfway to her jaw, where he had intended to gently wipe away a tear.

  “Witness required,” the voice repeated.

  He looked puzzled for a moment, then he understood and gave the necessary confirmation in a jumbled rush.

  “‘Category Five’, ah, ‘Total-Emergency’, confirmed and witnessed!”

  “Prepare for A-V recall, mission record update, commencing one-four-two-six planet local year.” The voice announced their stupendous breakthrough with cold indifference, and as the sounds ceased, the entire room seemed to dissolve away into a black nothingness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Demographics are always changing – anon.

  Ruth laughed weakly from her makeshift lounger made out of stacks of rough black coveralls piled on the floor, her back propped up against a large box next to one of the uncomfortably and strangely low laboratory work surfaces.

  “You don’t normally fry your TV dinners, do you, Terry? Maybe that’s your problem with your girlfriends. Perhaps the ladies would prefer a more traditional approach!”

  Stadt grinned, pleased that she felt well enough to joke with him. He was sitting sideways on one of the benches with his knees almost at the level of his armpits, twisted towards the work surface, tending some kind of inductive heater which had a slab of what looked like mild steel attached to the top. The prospective meals were sitting on the top of the slab, sizzling gently.