by Adam D Jones
Almighty, I don’t know what a man’s last prayer ought to sound like, so if you can give me a few more days to live then I promise I’ll work out something good for next time.
Marshal holstered his gun and held on.
Gant shoved the levers forward, holding tight as the ship rocked. Zoe clutched the controls to keep the ship in a straight line. As they closed in on the Republic sandships, more of the men spun around, wide-eyed, and started to shout an alarm. A few tried to jump when they realized what was about to happen.
On the deck of the nearest ship, a man in a captain’s uniform locked eyes with Marshal. He was old enough to have deep lines around his eyes and plenty of grey around the temples. His face fell at the sight of the oncoming crash, and Marshal felt something akin to sympathy for him.
Old fool, you’re just now realizing we’re all gonna die in this nonsense. I’d give anything for you to have learned that lesson yesterday.
Marshal gripped the rail.
11
Dawn put her tray down and took her seat at the long, metal table. It was grey, like the walls, the spoons, and even the tray itself. Dawn didn’t mind. Grey was quiet, like a patient sky.
Someone spoke. Across the table, a man appeared to be talking, but his voice came through like they were underwater. They would soon realize she wasn’t listening and stop trying. She felt the cold of cutlery in her hand as she ate in simple motions, her mind on her work. Dawn’s experiments waited back in her lab, which was only ninety-one steps away once she was in the hallway, and thinking about the work kept her mind busy, kept it from wandering down old, painful paths.
A scraping sound broke through her mental retreat. The man in front of Dawn, who had been making conversation, stood and left. A riot of color rushed in from the round window behind him. Dawn’s eyes widened.
Don’t.
Dawn wanted to look away, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from the green yard outside of the research facility. The tips of the grass moved a bit in the breeze...like home…
No. Finish eating. Look down.
But Dawn let her mind escape into memory, already feeling the pang of regret it would bring.
◆◆◆
Swish!
Young Dawn swung the broom handle at another section of the grass that grew taller than her head. Squinting, Dawn spun and let her weapon arc out, cutting down more of the offending grass. The tops of the stalks fell in front of her while she maintained a fencing pose.
Her legs ached from the walk. It took some time to get so far from her parents’ house she couldn’t see the tip of the roof, that its long shadow couldn’t reach her in the eclipsing grass. Out here, young Dawn was unassailable. She wasn’t an Idaris living on generations of Idaris wealth and influence, but a Corsair on a stolen sandship, or a pirate on the open sea. The broken broom handle was, in her mind, the finest cutlass, complete with a razor-sharp tip that gleamed bright when she raised it overhead.
Dawn swung back and forth, making a path. She could keep going a long time before running out of grass, the view from her third-story window told her that, and the possibilities for adventure made her mind race.
Deciding she had trekked far enough, Dawn danced and spun and sent her weapon against another wall of green before engaging in a duel with a stubborn sapling.
“Dawn!”
Her mother’s face appeared over the top of the grass.
“Mother!” Dawn struck a final blow to the sapling. “That one was a pirate! On a desert ship!” She swung again, in another direction. “And that one was a husk trying to sneak up on me! And over―”
Her mother’s hands caught the broom handle in mid-swing, halting Dawn’s assault. “I’ve been looking everywhere, child!”
Dawn hadn’t noticed her tone before. She was angry. But she was usually angry.
“Just...playing.”
Her mother huffed and jerked the broom handle from Dawn’s grasp. “You should be working.”
Dawn knew what she meant. When she had returned from school, Dawn had found school books waiting on her desk along with assignments written out for her. School wasn’t enough, not for an Idaris. Dawn had long ago learned to finish her schoolwork and the extra studies from her parents in short time. Quick enough to play outside before the suns set.
“My school work is done,” she insisted. “I put it on dad’s desk. It was easy!”
“Did you read your chemistry book?”
“I don’t have chemistry, mother. Until next year.”
Her mother raised the broom handle and brought it down. Dawn fell in a panic, and the next hit found her eyes and made her see red.
“Who told you about husks and pirates?” She struck the back of Dawn’s head. “You didn’t learn that at school.”
Dawn made herself into a ball and prepared to endure what came next. This was one secret she would never tell. “Mother, everyone knows about those things! I was just playing!”
Dawn’s mother stopped hitting and put her hands on her hips. “You’re not so smart as you think, Dawn. Not yet. You’ve been letting Atris tell you stories again.”
Dawn felt her heart lurch. Uncle Atris, old and crippled, had been forbidden to tell any war stories, but Dawn always asked and sometimes Uncle Atris couldn’t resist. The old man’s eyes were always downcast and heavy, except when he could talk to Dawn about his days on a sandship, and then his face would lighten up with a smile. It was during his old military days when Atris had injured his legs, and Dawn had trouble understanding how her uncle could think so fondly of that time. Dawn enjoyed the stories, but not nearly as much as Atris enjoyed telling them.
“Your uncle will be out by the end of the day! To think we pitied that old fool!”
“You’re throwing him out?” Dawn pictured her uncle staggering away from their home, looking for a new place to live. Both of his legs were crippled from his days of fighting for the Republic. “You can’t!” Dawn looked out from behind her hands. “He’s got nowhere to go!”
Her mother smiled, and Dawn relaxed a little when her mother lowered the broom handle. But the smile did not reach her eyes, and Dawn saw her mother’s dark intent: she was making sure Dawn knew it was her fault that Atris was being sent away.
“Don’t blame him, Mother. I did it.”
“He shouldn’t have been telling violent stories to young girls. And young girls shouldn’t have asked him to.”
Dawn’s chest tightened. She would never think about Uncle Atris again without wondering what would happen if she hadn’t asked for stories.
“Now you’ve gotten a crippled man thrown out of his home, what are you going to do?”
Dawn staggered under the sudden question. “Nothing?”
Another hit, this time on her ribs. And she realized the answer.
“Chemistry!” she shouted. “I’m going to―”
Dawn’s mother hit her until she begged to read her chemistry book.
◆◆◆
Someone bumped into Dawn and she realized it was time to go back to work.
Good.
She stood and headed for the door, leaving her tray, knowing the husks who served them would clean up. Her shoulders slumped, her head down, she trudged back to her lab, trying to fill her mind with her work and the problems she needed to solve. Anything to keep her mind occupied.
“Dawn!”
By the doorway stood a woman who offered Dawn a smile. She was young, and Dawn supposed they were expected to be friends since most of the other Republic scientists were old enough to have grandchildren.
“Is anything wrong, Dawn?”
She shook her head slowly.
“You just don’t look...right.”
Dawn moved her mouth into a smile. “I have work to do.”
“Vera.”
Dawn blinked.
“That’s my name. I’ve told you three times. Do you even remember?”
She nodded slowly. Maybe this woman would believe it.
“Listen, Dawn, this place can get you down. I just want you to know you can talk to us.”
Dawn nodded a second time and moved to walk past her.
“And be careful.” She touched her arm, but Dawn withdrew from it. “They’re coming through with…”
Dawn walked on, avoiding eye contact. Work, work, work. That’s the key. Work, work, work.
When her mind wasn’t lost in fog, Dawn would remember she had already been doing research for three years, and that she could barely remember any of it. Dawn pointed herself down the hallway and set her mind to solving problems and ignoring her other thoughts.
She began counting the steps. One.
Only ninety more until she found her lab door.
Despite her efforts, she found her mind on Uncle Atris. She’d always dreamed of finding out Atris was doing well in a new life and sending her uncle a letter of apology. Or finding Atris on a street corner and giving him a place to stay. But her life hadn’t made a perfect circle, and Dawn had nothing but memories of her uncle. Memories and regrets.
Atris, I’m still sorry.
“Badge!”
A firm arm stopped her, and Dawn blinked up into the face of an officer. Not one of the Stripes. The common officers who kept peace in the city were easy to spot; their uniform bore a thin yellow stripe down the pant legs. This man dressed entirely in black and spoke heavily. He carried a short metal stick that looked as mean as his glare.
“I said, show me your badge.”
Dawn finally understand and dug her metal badge from her pocket. This must be what the girl had been trying to warn her about. What was her name?
The officer looked at the badge, like a coin nearly the size of Dawn’s palm, and then back at Dawn. He did this a few times before shoving Dawn past.
Must be a Patrician visiting. White glove day.
Dawn turned down the next grey hallway.
Seventy-four steps.
The image of the herself as a Corsair danced in her mind. Dawn’s favorite days had been when the winds were high and fast along the plains, strong enough to nearly knock her down, and she would climb a tree or find the highest hill to live out the exploits of her imagination. As a child, she’d sketched ships and swords to fill the pages of her journals, but when her parents had found them in her room and thrown them all out, Dawn understood she would have to stop dreaming of that life. It was best not to even think about it. The fog of her mind kept Dawn safer than daydreaming, allowing her life to roll quietly along the rails her parents had set out for her. My girl’s the youngest to get out of the academy―on her way to do research at the capital. You know they don’t pay those kids just a few coppers. Her father’s voice would ring down the hall, up the stairs and past the pillows Dawn pressed over her face and ears. Smartest girl in Telarine, I tell you.
“Badge!”
This time, an officer hit Dawn across her chest with his metal stick, jolting her collar bone. Her shoulder cried out in pain, but Dawn ignored it. Ignoring pain was easy.
“Again?” she asked.
The officer stepped closer and Dawn fumbled for her badge. The inspection took longer this time, but Dawn wasn’t sure why. The badge could’ve been gotten from anywhere; it wasn’t like it had a picture. He’s probably just taking his time so it looks like he’s being thorough. Which mean the visiting Patrician, or whoever, was nearby.
Forty more steps.
Dawn put her mind on her work. Skin. Flesh. Bones. Teeth. That was the order of things. She had been testing tiny amounts of every ingredient she knew, writing down the results in endless ledgers. It seemed easy, but she noticed others did not do their work as carefully and meticulously as her. The edges of her mind tugged at the clues, clues that made her believe the work wasn’t being used for a simple catalog. Skin. Flesh. Bones. Teeth. She recited the order of the tests like a sacred litany, putting her mind back on her tasks and pushing the other, troublesome thoughts back into the fog.
Three more steps. Two...one.
As she reached for the door, someone grabbed her wrist. “Not this time, Dawn.”
It was Inder, the head scientist. Her sharp face bore down like a nail.
“You’ve got a meeting somewhere else.”
12
Inder led her down the hall, to her office at the very end. Dawn had only been there once, when she was first hired, and remembered it being as large as her parents’ living room.
Another guard stopped them at the door. While Inder huffed, the guard patted Dawn down. When he gave a nod, Inder threw open the door to her office and hurried them both inside. Dawn rushed in as the guard slammed the door shut behind her, and she found herself across from a tableau of uniformed men.
In the middle of them, a young man lay on the floor, scared, dirty, and nearly naked.
The others ignored him, like he was a figment of Dawn’s imagination. Inder raised a hand toward Dawn to indicate they should wait quietly while the Patricians talked. Dawn could hear them muttering in low voices about a battle gone awry, a disaster at a place called Third Bend.
When that conversation died down, the Patricians turned their attention to Dawn and began sizing her up, scrutinizing her like she hung in a deli window.
“This is the one,” announced Inder. “She’s brilliant, and just dumb enough.”
Patricians. Not just one. Not an inspection, either. Dawn counted at least four Patricians by the red patch they wore on the shoulder of their black uniforms. Lodi servants attended to their needs, staying back except when their employers needed something. Dawn could see their spotted arms sticking out of the sleeveless outfits every Lodi had to wear in the city. It was an interesting sight for Dawn; she hadn’t seen many Lodi since moving to Gamon, because they weren’t allowed to work in the research center for fear of spies.
The men started to murmur and whisper. Dawn caught a few words, but their meaning was easy to grasp: they didn’t find the meek researcher before them particularly impressive. Dawn had often been glad to appear unimpressive. It meant people left her alone.
“Tell us about yourself, girl.” A blonde, smirking Patrician gave Dawn a look like he wanted to intimidate her. It was working.
“I’m a scientist, here at the facility,” said Dawn, pondering how rarely she used her voice.
“We know that, fool,” said the Patrician. “Why should we trust you with something sensitive?”
“What’s the project?”
“Child!” The Patrician advanced on her. “You don’t ask me anything!”
The Patrician next to him grabbed his arm. “Let’s get this over with.” He looked at Dawn. “What do you do here?”
“Alchemy.” Dawn saw them frown. “Chemistry,” she corrected. “I find the most efficient mixtures.”
“You use that line on the ladies?” asked one of the men, and the others laughed.
“I’m working on sandship fuel now, but I did more biologics last year.”
“She started in sandship engineering, then I moved her to ballistics,” interrupted Inder. “But since her mixtures were the most efficient, we gave her something harder to do. And, like I said, she’s dumb enough.”
“But can we trust her?” came another voice.
Inder let out a sigh. Dawn wasn’t sure what was going on, but Inder apparently understood their concern.
“Show them,” said Inder. “Dawn, hold up your hand.”
Dawn’s right hand seemed to grow heavy. The family ring on her middle finger may as well have been an anchor. With some effort, she lifted her hand so the ring and its design, an emerald triangle, could be easily seen by the room.
“The Idaris family has been trusted by the Republic for centuries,” came the same voice.
The blonde-haired Patrician began to speak again, and Dawn wavered at his hard stare, but whatever he wanted to say got interrupted by a deep voice from a darkened part of them room.
“Stop wasting time, Patrician Severin. She’ll do.” The voi
ce quieted every other and sent a tremor through the Patricians. Severin stepped back, taking his place with the others.
Dawn subdued her curiosity. The man kept in shadow for a reason, and Dawn knew when to keep her head down.
More muttering filled the room, but Dawn turned her attention to the man sprawled on the floor.
He was young, younger than Dawn, but old enough that she wouldn’t consider him a child. Redheaded. And Lodi. The frecklish spots swirled around his arms and legs.
The others disregarded him like a piece of trash, nearly ignoring him. Dawn didn’t want to think about what had happened to him before now, or what waited for him next. Or even what he was doing there. I just want to go back to my lab.
“Restrain the package,” came the voice from the back.
Someone snapped their fingers and two guards stepped toward the young man. He moved onto his stomach, knowing what they had in mind. They held him down and tied his hands. Dawn noticed the Lodi servants looking away.
“You know the job, Inder?”
Inder straightened up and faced the man in the shadows. “Yes...sir. I do. And I’m certain Dawn can―”
“Where’s the woman’s lab?”
Inder pointed at the door. “Halfway down the hall.”
“Take the package there. Bring the young scientist whatever she needs to work through the night. We’ll back in the morning.”
◆◆◆
The Lodi boy had been through enough that being marched nearly naked down the hall did not embarrass him. He kept his head facing forward and followed the large man who led them into Dawn’s lab. The lab, cold and grey, normally embraced Dawn with isolation and solitude, but she couldn’t find those things now, as Inder, the Lodi boy, and a few guards followed her in, staring. Instead, she felt trapped. And invaded.
The young man, his hands still tied behind him, managed to calmly sit on the floor. He watched the room, glancing around like he was trying to memorize everything.
He’s angry, but he’s no victim. Somehow, he’s found some victory in all this.