Free The Age Atomic by Adam Christopher Page B

place. Perhaps he had found home.
    Perhaps.
    The man on the bridge slapped his cheeks to get the feeling back into them, rubbed his thick mustache to get the ice out of it, and turned carefully on the frozen bridge. Looking down, he stepped forward slowly so as not to slide on the ice, and vanished into the fog.
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    The interior of the airship was silent until the man returned, his wooden leg tapping loudly on the floor as he made his way to the pilot’s seat on the flight deck. He fell into it, and began pulling his gloves off. In front of him, the windows of the craft were opaque with frost.
    â€œHave you come to a decision?”
    The man paused and looked up at the ceiling, then shook his head as he dropped his gloves onto the control board.
    â€œNo. I can’t be sure. We need something else.”
    A shadow flickered in the room. “We could fly in and investigate.”
    The man chuckled. “And look what happened last time,” he said, banging the end of his wooden leg against the floor. “No, we need to wait. We need to be sure.”
    â€œWe cannot wait here forever.”
    That was true. The man sniffed and tugged at his beard. “If only there was a signal of some kind, something we could home in on.”
    â€œYou only found me because I activated the ship’s beacon. It is unlikely we will find such a signal out there.”
    The man hrmmed , and scanned the controls. It was worth a try.
    â€œA distress beacon, no,” he said, flicking a series of switches. On the control board a row of orange lights came on. “But maybe there will be something else. See if you can boost the output of the number two power cell. Perhaps we’ll be able to pick something up from the city – radio, perhaps, anything that might give us the information we need.”
    The shadow moved again. “Very good, sir” said the voice, this time nearer the door.
    The man sat back in the pilot’s seat, and looked at the frosted windows.
    Perhaps it was the right place. Perhaps it was home.
    But he had to be sure.

 
    TWELVE
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    â€œWe can do great things together, you and me.”
    Doctor X ignored the voice, and focused instead on the clipboard an inch from his face. He ticked some more boxes and scrawled a note in a hand he knew he would not be able to decipher an hour from now. His handwriting was poor at the best of times, but today she was coming to the laboratory to visit. And she expected much, even though she didn’t perceive time the same way as everyone else. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and adjusted his round-framed glasses. She could appear from anywhere, which, if he were honest, scared the living crap out of him. And at such a delicate phase of the operation, he needed his wits about him.
    â€œI know you’re listening, pal.”
    The doctor held his breath and flicked a switch on the panel in front of him. The voice wasn’t doing much for his nerves either. It filled the space, echoing against the hard surfaces of the laboratory. It was a male voice, eerily calm and muffled slightly, like someone on the end of a long-distance telephone call.
    Not that Doctor X knew much about that kind of thing. He’d only been introduced to the concept of “long-distance” in the last year. Imprisoned in the laboratory as he was, he still didn’t quite understand what it meant that there was more than just the city outside.
    The doctor ticked another box.
    â€œYou know I’m speaking the truth,” said the voice.
    The doctor shook his head, and put the clipboard down.
    â€œI think we’re almost ready, Dr Richardson.” No response. Doctor X turned on his heel, but he was alone in the laboratory. Well, the Project was there, trying hard to get his attention.
    â€œLaura?”
    The thin plastic safety door at the back of the laboratory flapped open as the doctor’s assistant came in, wheeling a trolley covered