estirose

Here's the last of four. The Questor Tapes was a Gene Roddenberry pilot which shares some similarities to Starman (that is, they're both people on the run from government agencies, and feature beings who don't know that much about humanity; Questor is an android, and the titular Starman is an alien).

Summary: One of the teachers at Scott's school helps him when he's on the run.

The Signs Known
by Estirose
c 2012

"Scott! Over here!"

Scott started at the sound of a male voice calling him. It wasn't his father, though the voice sounded familiar. When Mr. Adamson, the Social Studies teacher, stepped out of an alley, he couldn't help but stare.

"Don't just stand there. Come on!" Mr. Adamson exclaimed. "My home's right here, you'll be safe."

He didn't really know if he could trust Mr. Adamson, but it was better than nothing. Nothing the man could do would be worse than what Fox would do if he caught up. Scott could hear the yells in the distance and ran his teacher's way.

Mr. Adamson led him down an alley into a yard gated by a wood fence. "You'll be safe here, for the moment," he said, giving Scott a wry grin. "Would you like to come inside? I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but…."

Sitting inside with Mr. Adamson was a whole sight better than hiding in dark alleys. He followed Mr. Adamson into the house, quietly noting the exits in case he had to leave rather abruptly. Just because Mr. Adamson seemed nice didn't mean he shouldn't be cautious.

"And let me get you some orange juice. Out of a carton, but that doesn't matter, does it?"

"Not really," Scott said, finding his voice.

The teacher seated him on a slightly ratty couch, not that Scott could complain, and came back in with two glasses and a carton of orange juice. "Don't do much entertaining," the man said, looking around. "Hope it doesn't bother you."

Shaking his head, Scott watched him pour the juice. "Not really."

"You know, you're a lot more coherent in class." Mr. Adamson looked at him grinning widely. "Of course, anyone would be, but I have the sense you're used to this kind of thing."

The words made Scott finger the pin attached to his jacket. Hope - his only real friend at his last school - had given it to him. "Maybe."

"Came from Asa Gray over in Sacramento, right? I read your transcripts." The teacher sat down. "There are holes in it you could drive a Mack Truck through."

There was nothing Scott could do about that, so he stared at his orange juice instead.

"But then again, I'll tell you that my background's not spotless that way either." Mr. Adamson leaned forward. "You get to know the signs once you've done it yourself. And to patch up your paperwork the best way you can. That's why nobody's noticed me yet."

The only thing Scott could do was stare for a moment, then he recovered his voice. "What'd you do? Rob a bank?"

"No." Leaning back in the chair, Mr. Adamson looked up. "Walked out with a piece of classified government hardware, under some really odd circumstances that you don't need to know about."

"Oh." Scott really didn't want to know. "So, how do you hide? In plain sight?"

"Pretty much." Mr. Adamson gave him an approving nod. "I have a friend that's very good with computers. Can hack into just about anything. Got me past UK immigration when I didn't bring my passport, once. And these new modems are pretty fast at 300 bps, that's bits per second. Plus, he's good at covering his tracks. Anyway, he falsified my paperwork a couple of years ago, and I went to school to teach Social Studies - about as far away from my original field as possible."

Scott looked around. The apartment was fairly neat, even if the furniture was ratty. There was a picture on the fireplace, of a younger Mr. Adamson with a blond-haired, blue eyed man that was standing stiffly by him. "That your friend?" he asked, indicating the portrait.

"Yeah. Don't ask me anything about him, I can't tell you. Made a promise." He looked. "We're close, even if he's overseas right now." He sighed, and checked his watch. "I've got to make a call. Will you be all right, sitting here? I can get you a book if you want."

"No, thanks." It seemed so nice, to have a place to rest. And at least he hadn't lead Fox to his father. "I might want to borrow your phone after, though. Call my Dad."

"Good idea." Mr. Adamson grinned. "Maybe you can call first. Q can wait a few minutes." He disappeared into the house, returning a few minutes later with a rotary phone. "Bring him here. I'll see what I can do to get you both safe."

As Scott dialed the number, he could only hope that he was right.