Music of the Spheres Read Online Free PDF Page A

spectacles. When he spoke, there was a
hint of a foreign accent that Justine couldn’t quite place.
    “My apologies, ma’am. I am not sure where I need to go.”
    Justine, who had been in the port a hundred times, said,
“Are you here for a tour or a flight?”
    “Flight.”
    “Check-in is right over there.” She pointed to a bank of
kiosks to their left. “Then you’ll have to go through security.”
    “Thank you,” the man said with a slight nod, and then he
headed off.
    Justine had no need to check in. She went straight to the security
gates and said good morning to the ever-watchful guard. She had to remove her optilink
so that he could perform a retinal scan. There was a gentle chime as the
computer confirmed her identity, and then a second chime indicating she had a
personal message.
    Justine put her optilink back on and turned in the direction
of the holoslate. While any words written in analog format on a sign were
nothing more than a blur, the optilink sensor had the ability to receive digital
data and feed it directly into her optic nerve—the original purpose of the
technology. Her name, position, and other vital information popped up on the
floating slate beside the scanner, and the blinking message icon hovered below
her name.
    She touched the icon, and it transformed into a terse
sentence: Please report to Director Mathers.
    The guard, trying to be helpful, pointed down an adjacent
corridor with his neuro-baton and said, “Administration is that way, ma’am.” He
sat back down on his chair, looking bored. “Director Mathers’ office is there.”
    “Thank you,” Justine replied with a smile, though she knew
exactly where his office was, and headed off in that direction.
    ∞
    “Sir?” she spoke softly at the entrance of Director Mathers’
office.
    Behind the large oak desk, a high-backed leather chair
swiveled around towards Justine. Director Allan Mathers held up one finger for
her to wait. His other hand was touching the comlink on his ear.
    “—Yes, she’s here now,” he said to whoever was on the other
side of the call. “—Yes. Consider it handled… All right. I’ll brief her and
send her right down.”
    He pulled the comlink off his ear and dropped it on the
desk.
    “Justine,” he said. “Close the door and come in. Sit.”
    Usually, the director greeted his employees with a smile,
but today his face was grave and drawn. He looked out the window into the
distance while Justine closed the door and approached the desk.
    “What’s up, sir?” Justine asked as she eased herself into
the small guest chair.
    Director Mathers turned back and leaned his elbows on his
desk. He touched the tips of his fingers together and leveled his gaze at Justine.
    “Did you scan the news this morning?” he asked.
    Justine shook her head. “Sorry, sir, I was in a bit of a
rush.” Then, when the director didn’t follow up his question, she asked,
“What’s happened?”
    “Justine, you are aware that with all the cutbacks, quite a
few of USA, Inc.’s subdivisions, like NASA, have been outsourcing a number of
their flights to commercial lines like ours. We even sometimes provide transport
for armed forces troops and military cargo to Luna and the outlying space
stations.”
    Nodding, Justine said, “Yes, of course. Why are you telling
me this?”
    “I’m not comfortable about it, but the directive came from
corporate.” He glanced up at her, then looked back at his hands.
    “What directive, sir?” Justine wrinkled her eyebrows. “I’m
not sure I follow.”
    The director took a deep breath. “Well, apparently a report
just came in that the original Mayan scroll—the one they say was transcribed
from alien visitors a thousand years ago…”
    “Yes,” Justine said, gulping. “I know which one you’re
talking about.”
    “Well,” he continued, “it’s been stolen, and the old man who
had it has gone missing. They think he might have been kidnapped.”
    “Oh?” Justine