Rogers sat on the side of her bed trying to get organized for the 10:15 flight. She could not decide which clothing should return and which should remain behind. She would stuff her choices into the only carry-on bag and then pull them out again in a change of mind. Some things were most appropriate, others had ventured into the cosmic world of Dreamland and so were now valued mementos. She shook her head and sat on the bed in frustration.
Cassiopia peered in the open doorway. “Everything okay with you?”
“Nothing a trunk wouldn’t cure.”
“I’m glad it won’t all fit. It means you’ll have to come back.”
“Would anyway,” Rogers replied. “I just had the most intense three days of my life, and my life’s generally not that dull, as it is. But the real question is; are you okay?”
Cassiopia came to the bed and sat next to her. “Maybe.”
“What will you do?”
Cassiopia looked towards the open door and spoke in a low tone. “There’s another way I haven’t told you about. It’s almost guaranteed to work.”
“Another way? What?”
“Shhhh, keep your voice down. I don’t want my father to hear.”
“Oh brother..., I‘m listening.”
“I need to create the true environment where Scott is right?”
“Yeah….”
“If I were to bring him into Dreamland his subconscious would do that automatically.”
“Are you talking about moving his body into Dreamland?”
“Yes.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.”
“He’s in a hospital with a feeding tube down his throat. How could you do it?”
“I could use your help.”
“It’s sounding a bit illegal. It would take a court order to remove a comatose patient from a hospital, even if you were legal family, which you’re not. You don’t even have power of attorney yet, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I would tell his doctor that I wanted a second opinion and was having him transferred temporarily to a different hospital, just for some tests. I‘d forge the paperwork, have him transferred down here and then intercept him at some point and bring him home. The Tel could carry him through the arched doorway easily, and at that point, wherever Scott’s mind is, would be the next Dreamland.”
“Wow! That would really work?”
“Pretty much guaranteed. A sleeping person is the perfect candidate to create a Dreamland environment. Their conscious mind is already turned off. They’re already in Dreamland, in a sense. How long will you need to be gone?”
“No way to tell, except if we don’t get a big break on the case in the next three or four days, something real, real bad is going to happen.”
Cassiopia stood. “While you’re gone, I’m going to begin planning. I can always change my mind and back out if I need to.”
“Well, if I can get back, I’m in, but keep me out of the forging and other illegal crap, okay?”
Cassiopia leaned over and embraced Rogers. “Thanks.”
The ride to the airport was quiet. Cassiopia escorted Rogers to the security area and hugged her goodbye. “It’s not actually a personally dangerous thing you’re working on, is it?”
“You know me,” replied Rogers.
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s dangerous for the bad guys.”
“You’d better say a prayer, though. If we don’t get a handle on this something unimaginably bad will happen, and believe me my imagination has grown considerably in the past few days.”
“I’ll be waiting to hear from you. Be careful.”
“You too, Cass.”
To the Professor’s relief, Cassiopia agreed no further trips into Dreamland made sense, for the time being. The random chance of finding Scott was not worth the risks. Instead, she secretly went about creating her clandestine plan, charting routes, calculating costs, laying out a timeline, and listing needed resources. The Orlando Trauma Study Center was the perfect candidate for a fake transfer. She pulled admission and transfer documentation off the net, and modified them to her needs. She collected the names of doctors, front office personnel, and assistants, and kept a running record of their job descriptions. The air ambulance service turned out to be a breeze, although it would leave a notable dent on her credit card. The ground ambulance service was a bit trickier. There was no way EMTs would deliver an unconscious patient to a residence without asking the wrong questions and informing the wrong people. It would have to be a fake ambulance crew. After only a few minutes of searching, Cassiopia found a leasing service that would provide an emergency medical vehicle as a movie prop. It would add another spike on the credit card, but that was to be expected. ID badges for the two medical technicians were easily created, C. Cassell, A. Rogers. Uniforms would need to be acquired and modified.
After four days of work, Cassiopia had most of her requirements laid out and ready. Dr. Cassell would not be told anything, until the day Scott arrived. She would then beg his forgiveness for the wrongness of it and hope he would go along. The most worrisome item was that there had been no word from Rogers.
By 10:00 P.M., she had finished the last of it when the doorbell rang. She went to the front window and looked carefully out between the curtains as Markman had trained her. A lone figure stood at the door, but she could not see his face. Breaking all the rules, she switched on the outside light and opened the door. There stood a nervous Ann Rogers, in a dark trench coat, and brimmed hat.