the stool over my head, I hurl it at the screen behind the desk. The screen implodes in a riot of short circuits, leaving the room barely lit with the glow from the hologram.
The soundtrack starts running again. The sound waves hit me with force, as if the Counselor lashed out with a fist.
âStop!â
I clamp my hands over my ears. Stagger into the far corner. The sound of the plunging shuttle bores through my hands.
I slide down to the floor.
The volume increases, ragged at the limits of the speakerâs audio range. Scenes come, vivid on the inside of my squeezed-tight eyelids, as if the Newsvid is running in my brain. I slam my head against the wall. Pain blooms on my cheek, around my eye, weakens the images in my head.
Do it again.
Lights dance in my head.
Again!
The door opens.
âOhmygod!â Mrs. Phillips staggers under the blast of sound. She shouts at her own hologram, almost invisible in the shaft of light from the waiting room. âWhat are you doing?â
The image screeches back, âNecessary treatment.â
âStop!â She rushes to the desk, nose to nose with the wavering image. âStop at once!â
âNecessaryââ
âOverride! Code seven, triangle, beta!â
The hologram disappears. The soundtrack goes silent.
âStewart? Stewart, where are you?â
Mrs. Phillips looks anxiously around the room. But sheâs caught in the glare from the open door and canât see me. She shields her eyes. The light glints on a hypodermic needle in her hand.
âStewart? Can you answer me?â
Blindly, she steps my way.
I take her down with a scissors kick.
She sprawls onto the floor. The arm holding the hypo folds against her stomach and hisses out its supply of tranquilizer.
âOh no ⦠no â¦â she groans, reaching toward me. âDonât runââ
Then her eyes turn up white as the tranquilizer takes hold.
5
MISSION TIME
T minus 00:45:05
THE old spacerâs asleep on the bench, just like in the picture the Counselor showed me.
âWake up.â Barely a whisper. Cameras? Mikes? Iâm glancing around, but Iâd never see them anyway. âMister! Wake up!â
One eye opens, rakes me head to toe.
âBeat it. Iâm waiting for a midget.â
The eye closes.
âNo! You donât understandâIâm in trouble!â I shove his bulk.
Snake quick, his hand darts from the folds of his jacket and grabs my wrist. His reflexes are better than mine!
âDonât do that again.â
I try to yank away.
His grip tightens. He draws me close. âSweet Neptune, what happened to your face?â
âMy face?â I remember banging the side of my head against the wall. I touch my cheek. Pain flares. âWeâve got to get out of here! Theyâll see us soon as she wakes up!â
âWhat are you talking about?â He releases his grip. With a grunt and a curse, he sits up.
âI smashed the Counselor.â
âWith your head, right?â
âNo, a stool. It tried to brainwash me. Even smashed ⦠it wouldnât stop. Then Mrs. Phillips came in. She had a needle! I knocked her down and she injected herself. I donât know how long sheâll be out. Get up, will you! Before they come after us!â
â Us ?â
âThey had your picture. Sleeping right here!â
He looks over my head into corners, then drops his gaze to confront me with narrowed eyes. âWhat have you mixed me up in? Huh?â
âI had to find out if it was goofing up my AstroNav. It told me to stay away from you. It wanted me to watch Momâs crash all over again. Tried to push it into my head.â I can still feel the hard walls trapping me in the corner, see the glint of light on that needle â¦
âI donât need this.â He looks away.
âItâs your fault. Youâre the one who said they can make you forget. All I did was ask it