The street was a busy one, so they'd had to land the capsule in an alley and walk several blocks, but Sabrina was grateful for the time to get her head together as Ford shuffled alongside her in weary silence. It was true that no place ever smelled quite like your home planet, she thought; the air, even faintly tinged with pollution, seemed to have a positive effect on her mental processes. She was tired, too, but her body relaxed a little under the influence of the gravity and atmosphere it was designed for. It gave her a feeling of homecoming, even though she'd never been to Boston before.
Getting the right coordinates set, walking a confused and frustrated Ford through the process of opening the Way, then convincing him to sleep until it was time to emerge and hide the ship on the dark side of the moon had been an exhausting challenge. It was daunting to think that the hard part might only be beginning.
She rehearsed her explanation one more time and tried to think of what she would do if this plan didn't work. Where else could she go? A hotel, she supposed, but that would take money, and that would mean finding a bank and establishing her identity, which would leave a blatant electronic trail for Praxatillus to follow. No, she had to put her faith in this.
She kept a close eye on the house numbers as she walked. They were mostly older townhouses, sandwiched together in a typical urban configuration, and some were divided into two dwellings, evidenced by separate mailboxes attached to them. The number Sabrina was looking for was not, she was relieved to note. She walked up the three steps to the front door and swallowed hard. Let me be right about this, she prayed desperately.
The doorbell echoed through the house, and Sabrina's heart raced with the terrifying knowledge that it was too late to reconsider now. Of course, it was possible no one was home—
The door swung open. Sabrina found herself almost as stunned by the reality of this reunion as the slender strawberry blonde who stared at her, momentarily frozen before coming back to life with a gasp, her hands flying up to her mouth. Sabrina tried to remember one of the pithy greetings she'd prepared, but before she could get anything out, Cynthia Grayson reached out and pulled her into a fierce hug.
"Oh my God. Oh my God, Sabrina. I'd given up—" Cynthia pulled back just enough to get a good look at her oldest friend. "Where the hell have you been?"
Tears glazed over Sabrina's vision as she met her friend's equally watery gaze. "Cynthia," she choked out. "I—I need your help."
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The next few minutes were a blur. Cynthia sized up her long-vanished friend with a doctor's eye and wasted no time bundling her into the house. Sabrina barely had time to reach for Ford and drag him along as Cynthia led them into the living room, seated them on a wonderfully enveloping sofa, and whisked herself into the kitchen. When she emerged, she held two steaming mugs smelling of peppermint.
"Tea," Cynthia announced, handing a mug to each of them. "Drink up. When was your last meal?"
Sabrina wasn't even going to try the temporal conversions. She shrugged.
"Right, that's next, then." Cynthia eyed the way Ford's hands shook around his mug. "Are you on any medications?"
Sabrina smiled into her tea mug. "Same old Cynthia. Took you all of three seconds to go straight into doctor mode. No. We're not sick, exactly. It's—it's a really long story. And I don't think you're going to believe much of it."
Cynthia fixed her with a stern gaze, which abruptly melted into a wistful one. "Nothing new there either. God, I've missed that. I've missed you. I ought to be reading you the riot act for vanishing without a trace for years on end."
"It wasn't exactly voluntary," Sabrina said.
"You just let me know when you want me to call the police," Cynthia said. "But first, introduce me to your friend."
"Um..." Sabrina regarded Ford for a moment, and relaxed a little when she felt his mind touch hers reassuringly, willing to let her take the lead. "This is Ford. He's, ah, not from around here. I've been with his people for the past several years, helping them. We've made enemies. We got into a bit of trouble, and there are people looking for us. Nothing criminal, I promise."
"You don't need to tell me that," Cynthia sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Kath said the CIA had recruited you, but I thought she was pulling my leg."
"She was. How is Kath?" Sabrina smiled.
"Fine. I hear from her sporadically. The last report was that she's living on a beach in California somewhere. I got an invitation to a gallery show she did, so her sculpting must be taking off a bit. But don't change the subject, Sabrina. What kind of trouble exactly?"
"It's not espionage, Cynthia. More a...more like a humanitarian aid thing." How to sum up her years of service to Praxatillus? Impossible to find a simple phrase that could encompass all she had been and done.
"Hm." Cynthia cast a critical eye over Ford. Then she leaned forward and extended her hand. "I'm Cynthia Grayson. I'm a pediatrician, but if you're willing to take some expert advice, let me get you something for the fever you're obviously running. And then I'd recommend rest."
"Sounds good," Sabrina answered for him as he shook Cynthia's hand. "He did most of the heavy lifting, getting us here."
Cynthia rose, returning a minute later with two capsules and a glass of water. As she handed them to Ford, she asked, "Do you speak English?"
Ford glanced at Sabrina, who said, "Yes, but he's so exhausted it's probably not coming to him at the moment. Let's get him into a bed. I'm sure he'll feel more talkative tomorrow. Usually I can't shut him up."
"Right. Give me a minute to put sheets on the guest bed," Cynthia replied.
When she had left the room, Ford said, "Are you certain we will be safe here?"
"Ford," Sabrina admonished him. "You know all about Cynthia. How can you ask me that?"
"She..." He hesitated, and she realized in surprise that he was struggling with his words, and that he was speaking Praxatillian for the first time since they'd left Pharo. "How can she defend us from what we're up against? She seems so...ordinary."
Sabrina sighed. "It's okay, Ford. Once upon a time, I was ordinary too."
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Sabrina woke the following morning to the glorious feeling of her native sun on her face and the almost-forgotten smell of coffee. She shifted, burrowing her face more deeply into the pillow, and savored the feel and scent of cotton washed in a familiar detergent. For a moment she could imagine herself back in time, a normal teenager with her parents safely at home, spending the night at a friend's house merely for the fun of it. Except, of course, for the pair of warm arms that tightened around her in response to her slight movement.
Sighing, she wondered how she was going to explain all this to Cynthia. Ford had become extremely needy last night, forcing her to abandon her plan to sleep in the other room almost before it formed and preventing the private conversation she knew Cynthia was expecting. Sabrina had assumed, when she first thought of coming to Cynthia, that Ford would charm her friend, as he did most people. But in his current state he was hardly likely to make a favorable impression. Cynthia was a wise and fairly non-judgmental friend, but if she decided that Ford was a burden to Sabrina, she would be less inclined to offer unconditional help.
I've got to trust her, Sabrina thought. That's why I came here, to find someone I could trust when I can't trust myself. But the truth will only get me admitted for psychiatric evaluation. And we have to be careful not to leave records anywhere. She sighed again, feeling absolutely unequal to the task of outsmarting Scotty and Praxatillian intelligence. Not to mention Homeworld, and Malvarak, and whoever else might be trying to find them. Ford was possibly the universe's most dangerous weapon at the moment, and she had to keep him out of all hands until that was no longer the case.
Finally she couldn't resist the siren call of the coffeemaker any longer and managed to slide out of Ford's embrace, sending him the mental image of her going to eat breakfast and then returning. His exhaustion prevented any protest beyond a grunt and an outstretched hand.
Cynthia was on the verge of leaving for work, fully dressed and coifed. Sabrina had not thought it possible to be intimidated by such an old friend, but she had never seen her in her professional role before. "Good morning," she managed to mumble, making a beeline for the coffee. Cynthia had thoughtfully laid out a mug for her and watched with amused tolerance as Sabrina prepared and sipped at the brew.
"Oh my God," Sabrina sighed, inhaling the vapors. "I'd forgotten how good that could be."
"They didn't have coffee where you were?" Cynthia said, surprised.
"Not as such."
"And it wasn't military."
"Not my part of it, no."
Cynthia frowned. "Sabrina, we've been friends for more years than either of us wants to admit to. I will believe, unless confronted with proof to the contrary, that you are not involved in anything I would have to disapprove of; otherwise you wouldn't have come here. And if you feel you can't explain your circumstances to me, I will try my best to accept that. You've said almost nothing about how you got here, how long you will stay, and who your pursuers are. I hope that's because you would rather omit than lie, and I respect that. But..." She trailed off, staring into her coffee cup, for a few moments. "To accept this, to offer my help blindly, knowing there may be serious consequences...I have to have some kind of reassurance that you are the person I remember."
"I'm not sure how to offer that, Cynthia," Sabrina said, meeting her friend's gaze as calmly as she could. "I'm not sure it's even completely true, in some ways. I...my heart hasn't changed. My beliefs haven't changed. The rest of it...I've seen and done things I would never have imagined when we were younger. I think...no, I know...I am changed because of that. But I don't think I have ever done anything that would make you ashamed of me. I can't say my conscience is completely clear, but my mistakes have been honest ones."
Cynthia's lips curved slightly. "I can't fault you for that. All right, Sabrina. I don't think you would come back after so long and then betray my trust." She glanced at the clock. "I have to get moving. But later, I'd like to hear anything more you can tell me. Including your friend." Her smile grew until it was almost the mischievous one Sabrina remembered. "You can't bring a man into my house and share a bed with him and not expect to cough up at least a few details, you know."
Sabrina smiled and shook her head. "I know."
"I'll be home around six, I hope. In the meantime, mi casa es su casa. If you need anything, my numbers are on the fridge."
"Thanks. Have a good day," Sabrina called after her. Then she shook her head again. That was almost too easy.
She was midway through her second cup of coffee when Ford ambled into the room, rubbing at his stubbled chin and yawning as he dropped into the chair Cynthia had vacated. "I'm worried about how much you're enjoying that," he finally remarked.
Sabrina glanced up in surprise, hoping to catch a glint of the old humor in his eyes as well as his voice. But if it had been there, it was gone before she could catch it. "Well, it is addictive, actually. I lived on the stuff in grad school. I should lay in a good supply and take it home with us; I could probably make a fortune."
"But you—" Ford broke off, his forehead creased in confusion. She could feel him mentally casting about for a solid image of what her life was like on Praxatillus and the terror slowly creeping over him as he failed.
"It's all right, Ford. I don't hurt for money. When I'm not freelancing for the government or doing favors for your mother, I sponge off you." She grinned, hoping to lighten his mood.
It didn't seem to work. "Who are you to me?" he asked finally, his desperate gaze pulling at her. "You aren't Kestabriani, but you...fit...with me...."
"It will come back to you, Ford. When you remember yourself, you will remember me. Don't try to force it. All you have to know right now is that I'm your friend, and you can rely on me absolutely."
"That is a great deal to take on faith."
"Yes, it is." Sabrina set her empty mug down and returned his intense look. "You may not have the memories to support it, but I think if you listen to your instincts, you will find that you already do trust me. I can't promise not to make mistakes, but I can promise to do everything I can to protect you."
There was a silent moment in which she let him skim through her mind for reassurance. Then he leaned back in his chair again and smiled. "You are the fierce mother of many cubs."
Sabrina laughed, startled. "Where did you get that?"
"I don't know. It seemed fitting." He sobered again. "I know you trust your friend. But we cannot remain here long. They will look for us here. It will be one of the first places they search."
"I know. And I'd back Cynthia against a great many things, but not Praxatillian intelligence. I just...I just want a few days. To rest, to get myself back. Then we'll have to go." She took his outstretched hand. "It will be a long time before we will feel at home again, Ford."
"I know. And I am sorry for that, for you." He frowned. "Do you think, if I left, that they would leave you in peace?"
"No," she said, squeezing his hand fiercely. "They wouldn't. And I'd have no one to protect me when they came for me."
"Then I will stay until you are ready to leave," he declared. "And I will see that no one forces you to do anything."
She had to smile at that. "Ford, remember that we mustn't leave an impact here. This is my home planet. I don't want its future disrupted by the untimely discovery of alien civilizations. If they do find us, we're going to run, not make a stand."
"All right." He looked around. "What shall we do first?"
"I think breakfast. Then we should get some clothes down here. And after that, I'm going to try to decide what to tell Cynthia when she gets home."