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The next day when I got home, the new chandelier had been hung; I admired the play of light in the glittery cut crystals. I put my books away, put writing instruments in the drawer of the desk along with other things of a desk-y nature, and arranged the computer system better. Then I had fun putting my makeup away in the drawers of the vanity and played a little with the vial of my perfume, placing it just so. The chair and footstool were missing already. Alan is really efficient. He'd added a couple of things; a pewter candle snuffer, placed the matches in a silver container that had an abrasive strip in an unobtrusive place, and set another silver cup to the side with a burnt match in it; nice to have some place to deposit them. I hadn't thought that far ahead. I thanked him when I went down for dinner.
"You did a lovely job with the room," he said, thawing a bit as he handed me my pre-dinner seltzer and lime. For the first time I wondered if he'd been offended or hurt when I said I was going to clean my own room. My reasons were still valid, plus I enjoyed it, but maybe I should have been nicer about it?
Dad was running late, so Mom and I chatted, a little awkwardly, about how I'd fixed up my room and done the things. Alan handed me some upholstery samples, and I chose a really nice dark silver satin that had a narrow lavender stripe through it for the chair and a solid light silver satin for the footstool, with piping to match for each piece of furniture. The conversation was a bit easier with him joining in too. We'd given up on Dad and went in to dinner, but he came in just as we were sitting down. He looked grim.
"What's the matter, Dad?" I asked as I spread my napkin on my lap.
"Carol Osborn's son has been kidnapped," he said bluntly as he sat down. The Osborns owned Oscorp, a large corporation that at one time had given the old Stark Industries and Wayne a run for its money, but had declined in quality and relevance between now and the first half of the twenty-first century. Ms Osborn seemed to be rebuilding it, according to things my dad and Grandpa Damian said, a more capable executive and leader than her father and grandfather had been.
"What?" Mom asked anxiously.
"She got a ransom notice just before noon. The note threatened that this is only the first kidnapping," Dad said tightly. "She was kind enough to notify me and others in the city of the danger. Lys, I don't want you taking your pod anymore. I think it's safer if Alan drives you."
"I actually think my pod's safer, Dad," I said, then hurried on before he could say anything. "Uncle Tony built a huge array of safety features into it. When it's waiting for me, it settles flat to the surface so that nothing can be put under it. It only opens to my fob with either my or Uncle Tony's fingerprint, it won't drive anybody but me, the windows are reinforced, it will call emergency services if it's hit, and if it detects a threat, it will hop ten meters in the air and go forward until it sees a clear space in traffic, set down, then do it again until I'm at a police station. Uncle Tony says that's a gray area in the law because it's under the height required for aerial transportation and it doesn't go very far, under the limits for use of the aerial capability, which you're not supposed to use in the city anyway. The ten meter height is less than emergency vehicles travel at, they go around at fifteen meters. And it's got a tracker." He listened to what I said, looked at Mom, and asked Alan what the safety features on the family pod were. They weren't as extensive as mine, relying more on the skill of the driver to keep the occupants out of trouble. I cheered AI Tony's badgering me to read the whole owners manual to myself.
"All right, Lys," Mom said. "You can continue to use your pod, but please, I'd appreciate it if you'd curtail your other activities. Go to ballet, summer school, and work, but come home right after."
I was so relieved that I didn't have to abandon my precious pod that I agreed. I didn't know the Osborn kid, but I hoped he'd be ok. I listened to Mom and Dad talking about it; the ransom was to be paid at one o'clock in the morning, no tricks. I was moved to object when they considered bringing Deri home.
"She's only got another week and a half, about," I protested. "She's having a great time. And does anybody even know where she is? I know that she's at Camp Lowe, but come to think of it, I'm not even quite sure where that is. And I know Deri just said she was going to camp this summer when anybody asked. I mean, yeah, she can be irritating, but unless there's a real threat, can't she finish up?"
Mom sighed and Dad rubbed his eyes. "I'm talking to Alex, Damian, Tony, the other parents in the family later. I'll ask for a risk assessment then." Mom squeezed his hand. "Alan, you'll want to talk to Aslyn and come to your own determination, just in case. You keep quite a low profile but Aslyn is well-known as being an important member of Valkyrie. You're welcome to come to the teleconference too." And for the first time that I could remember, after dinner there wasn't any tea in the library after dinner. That part was fine with me; I grabbed an apple hand pie and scooted up to my room. I finished my homework, glad that summer school was coming to an end in a couple of weeks, then went upstairs to my sewing room to finish the tie backs and work on the cushion. My coworkers had advised me to tuft the cushion with buttons so that the fabric and the batting that I wrapped the foam core in would stay put. I'd bought some pretty buttons with rhinestones to add what I hoped would be an elegant sparkle. I worked in silence, a little worried, and for once glad that I didn't have a lot of outside activities. The remaining tiebacks were easy to finish, and I worked on the cushion, placing the stuffing part inside and hand sewing the edge closed. My hand stitching was still rough, but it was designed so that it was on a short side that was against the wall, so nobody would see. I had just finished marking where the tufting was to go when there was a knock on the door and Alan poked his head in. He looked around with interest.
"This is very pleasant, Miss Lys," he said. "Efficient and well organized."
"Thank you, Alan," I said, turning toward him.
"Your parents would like to see you; they're down in the bat cave." I stood and picked up the cushion, putting the needle, thread, buttons, and scissors into a bag. I'd finish it in my room. As we walked through the attic and down the stairs, Alan said, "If you intend to pick up sewing as a hobby, may I suggest some shelving and perhaps a cabinet? You'll want to keep yardage and remnants organized, perhaps start a library of sewing books, that sort of thing."
"That's a good idea," I said thoughtfully, and detoured to dump things in my room. I caught up with him again. "What would you recommend?" We chatted on the way down to the bat cave. My folks were in the conference room with the really big viewscreen; as I came in some of the people on the call dropped off. I waved at Uncles Bucky and Tony. Uncle Bucky smiled at me as Tony finished reiterating the safety features on my pod. When he'd finished, he gave me a virtual high-five for remembering them.
"Nothing's known about the kidnappers," Uncle Bucky said to my parents. "There's been a rash of kidnappings like this in Asia, Africa, and Europe, but not in the western hemisphere, and hopefully this is an anomaly."
"Kids being used as bargaining chips isn't anything new," Uncle Tony said with a sigh. "But as long as Lys stays inside until her pod is right there and hurries right out, she's safer than pretty much anybody. The pod automatically scans for threats and won't set down if it thinks something is hinky, like a threat between you and it. If it goes by without setting down, kid, call the cops and get away from windows and doors."
"How does it decide if there's something weird if it is just going by?" I asked curiously, and Uncle Tony gave me some doublespeak that apparently meant that the pod tapped into security cameras for monitoring purposes. Huh. The adults ended the call and we went back upstairs. I was given permission to continue with my schedule, but until more information was developed, it was ballet, school, work, home, and that was it. I'd have to suspend my lunches with Aunt Amy. But as least I wasn't going to be locked up on the estate, so that was a victory, and it had been decided that Deri and Van were most likely safe at the camp. It had monitors and a system so that campers couldn't sneak out at night (why would they? It's apparently in the middle of nowhere) and, like a lot of places these days, to separate people with business, like food deliveries, from those who did not or were lost.
Ballet was going great. I felt like I was improving my technique and started to wonder if maybe I really could dance professionally and whether I'd want to. Well, I had a couple of years to watch Miles and figure out whether it was for me. We didn't have a recital at the end of summer because most people went on vacations at some point, but for the winter recital we'd be doing selections from The Nutcracker, and I was hoping to have a shot at dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy.
At the end of the week, Mom and Dad presented me with a choice of three schools for next year. Two were private, but interestingly, one was not. It was a fairly new school, built within the past twenty years, located in the revitalizing Hell's Kitchen neighborhood. I had cousins in both the private schools, but nobody I knew went to the public school. I looked through the brochures that they'd gotten for me. The private schools were typical prep schools, all around academic excellence but oriented with a module of classes for those expecting to be business leaders in their careers. HKHS was also highly rated, strong academics without the prep school uniforms and a wider range of electives.
"Are you sure, honey?" Dad asked a little doubtfully. "You won't know anybody there." I gave him a pointed look and he sighed. "Ok, I'll get you enrolled tomorrow," he said, and I smiled. Things were looking up.