Cheers come from the crowd behind us, and I turn around to see why. To the left, on the street, a large white vehicle slows. The door has the Board’s emblem on the surface. It must be Hammond.
The transport rolls to a stop. Two large men, dressed in black, exit from the front and flank the emblemed door right as it slides away. Luca steps from inside, followed by Hammond. Her lips turn up into a tight smile and she motions to the crowd, which immediately bursts into applause. Luca and her guards fall in behind her as she proceeds toward the stage. Once behind the podium, she raises her hands to quiet the enthusiastic crowd. Many still clap and roar with occasional cheer.
“I am so privileged to join you today,” Hammond gestures to the two moons. “Can you believe what an amazing place our new home is?”
Of course, the crowd erupts again, and she has to do the thing with her hands to quiet the people down. While she does, I flip my attention to Luca, who’s staring my way. But when our gazes touch, he looks to Hammond and clasps his hands loosely in front of his waist, shoulders straight back. The two guards in black take up space below the stage, at each corner, and wear expressions apparently meaning business.
Beside me, Alina is just as engrossed in Hammond as the rest of the crowd.
“You all are the heart of Arcadia. Your dedication to transform our new planet into a home that humans can be proud of is the very foundation this relocation project is built upon,” Hammond says. Hanging her head a moment, she waits a fully charged second before facing the crowd once more and saying, “We all share a great sadness over the explosion on the starship Pathfinder and those who died.”
My stomach tightens. Maybe she is going to give us some information.
“Please know that we are doing everything we can to examine the explosion’s cause,” she says. “But, so far, investigation shows this just to be a terrible accident.”
I pump my fist at my side. She must be lying.
Hammond goes on for at least fifteen more minutes, but I don’t hear much of it. All I want is a chance to give her a piece of my mind. But she’s probably going to return to her vehicle as soon as the speech is done, a feeling I can’t shake.
I lean into Alina. “You said you live in the dorm, right?”
“Yeah . . . 725. Why?”
“I don’t think I can do our tour today.”
“Sure, okay.” She returns her attention to Hammond.
“Excuse me,” I push past the people in the front row and head toward the vehicle. All I need to do is be in her walkway, and then I can get her attention.
“Thank you, thank you,” Hammond says, and I pick up the pace to make sure I have a clear view of her for when she comes down the stairs.
I keep my attention glued to her location and press past a few more people. “President Hammond,” I shout.
She turns to me and locks eyes. Immediately, one of her guard steps in front of her.
Hammond sighs and, reading her lips from across the stage, I can see she tells him, “It’s fine,” and then she waves me forward.
I step toward her. “Tell me more about the explosion in the bay.”
“Miss Foster. As I’ve already shared, the Board is working on it, but so far the details are classified information. You know I can’t give you what you want, let alone in this setting.”
I knit my brows. “Richard Foster’s my father, and I deserve to know what happened to him. You stuck me in that dorm with no information. It was cruel!”
She hushes me and gives a tense smile to the people around us. From behind her, Luca steps from the crowd and leans in to her ear.
“We need to go, President Hammond,” he says.
“Yes.” She turns her attention back to me. “When the investigation is complete, you’ll have any information I’m able to release. But I make no guarantees.”
“But—”
“No, Miss Foster. The explosion was unfortunate. But it happened. Be grateful you have a roof over your head and food in your mouth. Now go and make a new life here.”
One of her guards eases toward me and touches the weapon on his hip.
Hammond turns to Luca, her nostrils flaring. “Would you please escort Miss Foster to ensure she makes it safely from the gathering?”
Luca motions to me, but I quickly spin on my heels and storm through the crowd, my palms sweating.
Was that a threat? Why wouldn’t I be safe?
Chapter 8
T hrough the swinging door’s small window, I check that no one is coming and then push open the white swinging door from the kitchen. In my hands are a tray of plated chicken and roasted potatoes and a medium rare steak with a side of green beans. The food’s smell wafts up into my nose and makes my stomach growl.
Three days ago, and right after I spoke to Hammond, I received a message that I was assigned as a server at Spectra, the only fine dining restaurant so far in the city. I suppose it could be worse.
Still . . .
Only one more hour until my shift is over.
In a few seconds, I arrive tableside to the well-dressed couple with my best fake smile. I learned quickly that if you forget to smile, patrons tend not to tip you much at the end of their dinner. In graceful motions, I place the ordered food in front of the diners.
“Enjoy your meal.” I lay on the thick, sweet tone." Is there anything else you need?” I ask.
The man looks at the woman and then shakes his head. “No, I believe we are fine.”
I nod and turn toward the kitchen to retrieve an order for my second table, when a person catches my eye. A dark blond boy dressed in a sharp suit enters the front of the restaurant.
Max! My heart skips with excitement. But it quickly stills since I still want to be mad at him.
He glances around the room and spots me. His face lights up, and any anger inside of me melts. Max is just far too nice to justify any lingering offense.
“I’m sorry,” he mouths before my supervisor, Suzanna, approaches him. Then he turns his attention to her and starts a conversation I can’t hear.
Taking as few steps as I can toward the kitchen, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Max shakes Suzanna’s hand and points to me. She glances my way and nods, then gestures Max through the restaurant.
Soon enough, Max is by my side. “Go into the kitchen. I’m supervising as you pack a to-go order for the bigwigs.”
The two of us push through the doors.
“Where were you?” I say as the doors shut behind us. “And why didn’t you answer my messages?”
Max tips his head. “You think I did any of that on purpose?”
I sigh. “No, I was just checking.”
“Ever since Hammond shuffled me off the ship, I’ve been looking for you. All my contacts were deleted off my Connect. I finally got a tip off last night when one of my assignments mentioned a friendly girl with long strawberry blonde hair as their server.”
Well, at least my act makes an impression on a few people.
“I was a little unsure about the friendly part, but—” Max smiles and I smack him in the arm. “But, other than that, I was pretty sure it was you.”
I shake my head at him. It’s good to have Max back. “But what are you doing here?”
“I convinced today’s assignment that having a fancy meal sent to their quarters for a working dinner meeting would be a good idea. Earlier in the day, I had overheard him saying how he wanted to try the food here.”
Remembering my other table, I glance up at the screen on the wall, displaying the completed meals. It’s not ready.
“What’s your order number?” I ask.
Max taps on his Connect. “Thirty-six.”
I recheck the screen. “Okay, it’s still going to take about ten minutes. But I can start the salad.” I lead him to the salad station and pull on a pair of disposable gloves.
From the side, one of the other servers gives Max a strange look. Probably because he shouldn’t be in the back.
“He has to oversee the order for a client. Suzanna cleared it,” I say to her.
She shrugs. The restaurant patrons tend to be picky, so she apparently accepts my explanation, grabs a basket of rolls, and then returns to the restaurant floor.
“Suzanna did clear it, right?” I lean into him.
Max nods. “But we don’t have a lot of time, and I have information for you.”
My stomach drops as I grab the recyclable container for the salads.
“Did you find out something about the explosion?” I whisper and peek over my shoulder to ensure none of the other staff are nearby. “Or about my dad?”
“Not yet,” he says. “But the last of the Board are arriving from Skybase today. Hammond decided to keep a few of the members onboard until all of their offices and housing had a thorough sweep with additional surveillance installed.”
“And what does that mean for me?”
Max tips his head. “Not all of the Board sides with Hammond all the time. There are one or two you might be able to plead your case to. Lia Hirata and Lawrence Cooper would listen to you.”
I load the containers with lettuce and other salad ingredients. I glance at the order screen again for the dressing types and pour the correct ones into their dishes and snap on the lids.
“I tried talking to Hammond the other day,” I say. “She has guards all around her, and then I ended up here.” I gesture around the kitchen. “I’ve never served food, and the first day I nearly got myself fired. I’m pretty sure Hammond is happy for any excuse to send me back to work so I stop asking questions. What do you think would happen if I try to approach a Board member in broad daylight?”
“Well, I would never suggest you talk to them in broad daylight,” Max says. “I have pretty good information that those two work late into the night at their offices. And might be meeting without Hammond tonight.”
A small amount of hope swells in my chest as I load the salad containers into a delivery bag. “And you know the location?”
Max’s lips curl into a devious smile. “And I have the codes to get you into the Capitol building.”
“Are you coming too?”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re going to need to do this on your own. I have an assignment, and you need to move quickly before you lose your chance.”
I glance to the screen again and see that both of my tables’ orders as well as Max’s to-go order are ready.
He taps his Connect and holds the device to mine. “There. I sent you the codes and Hirata and Cooper’s office locations. The building codes change daily, so tonight is your only chance for this. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get access again.”
I throw my arms around his neck as tears sting at the corners of my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper into his ear.
“It’s the best I could do. I’ll make sure to be in contact soon.”
Suzanna steps into the kitchen. I immediately release Max and step around him to retrieve the ready orders.
She raises her eyebrow but says nothing, and then moves off in the opposite direction.
All too soon Max is gone with the delivery bag in-hand, and I’m back on the floor apologizing for the lateness of my table’s meal. But the couple is quick to forgive when I give a sweet smile and promise a slice of cheesecake when they finish.
♦ ♦ ♦
After my shift ends, I message Irene that I won’t be home until late. I have no idea if she cares, but I figure informing her is the polite thing to do.
The two moons hang overhead, making the sky considerably brighter than on Earth. Stabbing pain shoots from my toes and into my feet from hours of standing, but it’s only about a fifteen-minute walk to the Capitol building from the restaurant, so I do my best to ignore the sensation.
A few pedestrians mill around on the street and the train is still running. But overall, the city is much quieter than the morning bustle. Most of the jobs are long hours, and my guess is that a lot of people are simply tired. I know I am. If Max hadn’t shown up today, I’d probably have gone straight to bed when I got home. If that’s what the dorm is—a home.
As I walk, I twist mom’s wedding ring on my right ring finger while I mull over the plan I made for once I get into the building.
I’m still wearing my serving clothes and have my work ID for Spectra. The instructions Max gave will lead me through the service entrance in the rear. The guards change shift right at 8:00 pm. I should be able to slip in then. If I get caught, I’ll just tell them I was hired to serve at a meeting held tonight. The plan is probably a terrible idea, but right now, it’s all I can come up with.
The map on my Connect leads me down to what appears to be a shortcut through the backside of a few buildings. Native plants twine up building surfaces in random patterns and recolor the wall’s metal gray to various shades of green. I run my hands along the leaves to calm my nerves and notice how the vines boast tiny white flowers now twisted closed for the night.
As I graze the bud with my fingertip, a faint glow comes from beneath my chin, and I look down. The crystal is glowing again! Another light catches my eye and I halt all movement. The flower beside me has opened and emits a soft cyan light. I turn and see that all of the flowers on the metal surfaces behind me are now open and glowing.
Well—this is a terrible way to try and sneak into a building.
I bring my hand away from the leaves, but it’s too late. Whatever action I put into motion is already well on its way. On the building in front of me, the flowers dotting the structure’s metal walls are lighting up, one by one.
A lump forms in my throat, and I do my best to swallow it. But no use.
The building I need is two blocks over. Maybe if I don’t touch anything else, I’ll be fine. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my pants and pick up my pace. All the while I try to ignore the glowing flowers that seem to be traveling up the building and onto the next layer of foliage. Maybe it was a coincidence. I don’t know everything about the plant life on this planet and maybe what happened is totally normal.
I reach the building’s end and step out onto the street when a tall, thin man with pure white hair nearly walks into me. I jump back and throw my hands shoulder high into the air. The thin man turns. But it’s as if he stares straight through me before pivoting away. Odd. His hair is white, as if he’s very old, but his face seems younger than Dad’s.
I knit my brows in confusion. “Sorry about that. I guess I was distracted.”
The man whips his head around and mutters a few words in a strange language, one I’ve never heard before. The words lilt in a way similar to the strange boy’s voice. Like music.
Almost out of nowhere, a young woman appears on the street before me. She’s older than me, but not by much. Her long wavy hair is dark, but I can’t tell the exact shade. Under the waning light, it’s difficult to discern much about her. But I can see that her skin appears rich, like a tan, and her features eerily remind me of the strange boy.
The girl uses her hands when she speaks, and I can’t understand a single word. But, by her rushed tone and the tension in her jaw, I can tell she’s anxious. And, by the calm tone of his response, it seems as if he’s attempting to reassure her reasons for distress.
I shouldn’t stay. But their language reminds me of the boy. The ship did carry a significant portion of international passengers, most of whom do speak English as a second language. They could know him.
“Excuse me,” I say, fully aware this is a terrible time to get their attention. But it might be my only chance. Who knows if I’ll see these people again.
But the two only continue their conversation.
One last try. A little louder.
“I’m wondering if you could help me locate a person. I think he speaks your language.”
Still nothing.
I throw my hands into the air when, beneath my chin, the crystal glows again. I start to raise my hand to hide it, but immediately the girl and the man spin my way an
d stare directly at me. My heart instantly kicks into a gallop and thuds against my rib cage.
The man speaks with his melodic accent. I have no clue what he says but, for some reason, all I want to do now is leave. I try to lift my foot, but it’s stuck to the sidewalk.
In a blink, the man vanishes and then reappears directly in front of me. I gasp as his face grows pinched and he rattles off a few phrases, his tone now terse.
“I don’t understand you,” I yelp, and throw my hand to his chest.
Just as my palm makes contact, the girl lunges for me and her hands wrap around my throat. My brain tells me to scream, but I can’t.
I thrust my hands out to make her stop and, as I do, a shadow enters from the corner of my vision. A figure rips the girl off me, and the two bodies crash to the ground with a thud.
I grab my neck while struggling to breathe.
The white-haired man backs away from the two fighters. My savior jumps to his feet and pulls the girl with him. I get a good look at his face—the boy.
He pushes her and yells words in their language. Breathing hard, he swivels his attention between the two people and points to the left and down the street.
The girl glances at me and narrows her eyes. My breath hitches when the irises swirl with cyan for a split second. But the two turn and race down the street, and then disappear into the darkness.
The boy turns to me, his chest still heaving. “I’m sorry about them.”
Chapter 9
“ Sorry about them?” I rub my neck where the girl’s fingers had wrapped around it a moment ago. I try to clear my throat, but it aches as I swallow. A shiver shudders down my spine with the memory of her hostile expression and swirling irises.
“What about you? I’ve only been trying to talk with you about what happened on the ship, and all you do is run away.”
Across the street, two people walk together, casually glancing over here. The boy whips his neck toward the couple and back at me.
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