by Tam Linsey
Jubal chewed his bottom lip. “Let’s see if that Flame Runna, Eily, still wants to find her sister.”
“She’s nowhere in sight. What if they don’t let her talk to us again?” Rann looked around, settling on the tall posts near the gate they’d come through. “We could look for a way to get Sefe inside the lightning wall.”
The idea might be their only hope. Jubal nodded once and began to organize the goods on their table. “Maybe we can look after dark. Until then, smile.”
Chapter Seven
Haldanian Protectorate
Rael leaned forward to look at the seven other Board members sitting around the conference table. Sunlight poured into the room through the transparent ceiling, and the low, persistent hum of the air exchangers as they struggled to keep the building cool niggled on the edge of annoyance. Using his most paternal voice, Rael began his presentation. “I hope you all had time to read the outline I sent.”
Several faces looked down at their gamma pads, and he knew most people had barely skimmed the missive, as usual. Fine by him. There were still some kinks in the Doomseeds plan, and this would allow him to focus attention on the most positive aspects.
He forged ahead. “The Doomseeds program will solve two problems at once. First, reversions who cannot be remediated will be allowed to return to the Reaches instead of being euthanized. Second, with the new neurotoxic fungi implanted, they will serve the Protectorate as a deterrent against Fosselite harvesting.”
Councilwoman Arnica studied the gamma pad in her hands and furrowed her brow. “You intend to give Eily Kraybill the Doomseeds neurotoxin?”
“Not unless she wishes to stay in the Reaches. We do not consider her a reversion at this time.” Rael shook his head. As a native-born Haldanian, conceived in a test tube and raised within the UV-protected walls of the Garden, he—and most of the Board—didn’t understand why some converts refused to embrace life within the Protectorate.
Another councilman leaned back in his chair. “Wild as they are, reversions are still too domesticated to survive on their own. We’ll only be feeding the cannibals if we allow them to leave.”
Rael smiled indulgently. “That’s why Eily’s part in this is so important. One of the tribes has adopted her sister, and Eily wishes to rescue her. But the tribe may be open to adopting others in her place. The reversions will be safe.”
A change in air pressure accompanied one of the main doors opening, and Dr. Tula Macoby, staunch supporter of convert rights, waddled in, her belly huge in the late stages of pregnancy. Rael gestured welcome. Tula mumbled apologies and slid into a seat.
Rael continued, “New policies on convert rights and reversions have opened many doors. Once upon a time the only thing we could do with reversions was euthanize them. Some reversions will never acclimate, even with the diverse living situations we offer. They want to go back to the Reaches.”
Tula, still catching her breath, said, “Councilman, I’ve reviewed your notes. Your plan will result in their deaths.”
He kept his hands relaxed on the table instead of squeezing his fists like he wanted to. He’d assumed that Dr. Macoby would approve of giving reversions their freedom. “I thought you supported the rights of new converts.”
“Research on the neurotoxic fungi is not yet complete. Testing has—”
“We can’t afford to miss this opportunity to safely reintroduce reversions into their natural habitat. We will of course continue testing in the field.”
Councilman Gentian said, “You speak of them like they’re lab rats, Rael.”
Rael merely cocked an eyebrow. Several council members chuckled.
Tula scowled. “You propose we use them as bait for the Fosselites.”
Rael scowled. Six years ago, Tula had borne the brunt of a Fosselite experiment to increase the endurance of harvest subjects under deadly levels of UV radiation; the longer the Fosselites kept their subjects alive, the more neural fluid they could tap. When she’d escaped, she’d brought the Protectorate not only samples of a proprietary telomerase fungus, but also news of the Fosselites’ insidious harvest of smuggled Haldanian reversions. “Dr. Macoby, we’re trying to prevent anyone from going through what you experienced ever again.”
“Your plan hinges on the hope that these reversions will be captured.”
This was a subject he’d hoped to avoid talking about directly. “Unfortunately, one or two will need to be harvested for the Fosselites to learn to keep their hands off. But then the rest of our people—reversions included—should be safe from Fosselite hunting.”
She rose from her seat and leaned forward to tap the center console, her ponderous belly brushing the table. A chart appeared on the surface, drawing everyone’s eye. She pointed to one of the lines. “And what about those who aren’t captured? The fungi thrive in the alkaloids our bodies produce under UV exposure. Once they reach critical levels, the victim has only ten days before stroke-like symptoms appear. By the time that happens, the damage is done, and death is certain.”
Gentian’s eyes widened, and he turned to Rael. “So the reversions only have ten days?”
He waved off the concern. “The fungi won’t reach toxic concentrations unless subjected to high levels of ultraviolet light, such as the UV lamps used by the Fosselites.”
Tula crossed her arms. “What if these reversions are caught in a UV storm? That much radiation would surely induce neurotoxic fungal bloom.”
“Assuming their alkaloid levels don’t destroy their organs first?” Rael rolled his eyes. “Everyone knows to get out of a UV storm. Even cannibals.”
Another councilman tapped the screen of his gamma pad and asked, “Isn’t the toxin detectable within the bloodstream?”
“The beauty of this fungus is that it is completely contained within the spinal column, and the toxin it creates is poorly absorbed through the bloodstream. Standard blood tests are useless.”
Tula slapped a hand on the table. “This isn’t about how undetectable the toxin is.”
Rael took a deep breath and leveled a stony gaze at her. “The reversions should exhibit no symptoms while living on the Reaches.” He turned to the rest of the Board members. “We all agree that conversion is a good thing, do we not? A way to eliminate hunger and violence? Yet the conversion process itself has a certain fatality rate when a host’s body refuses the chloroplasts. We accept those statistics because photosynthetic skin is the only sure way to end cannibalism. If we attempt a full-on frontal assault with the Fosselites, or even continue to allow them to arm the cannibals as they are now, we would experience far greater losses than my proposal estimates. Eradicating the Fosselite threat is worth the possible loss of a few lives.”
“After the Fosselites are no longer a threat, what happens to the released reversions?” Councilwoman Arnica asked. “Do we offer them medical services to remove the fungi?”
Rael cleared his throat. He hadn’t anticipated the question. “That would mean alerting them to the plan, which risks the Fosselites finding out. We can’t let the information leave this room. But I assure you we are including the very best safety protocols we can offer. The released reversions will undergo the same preventative telomerase treatments Burn Operatives receive for long-term UV exposure. In fact, the neurotoxic fungi are related to the telomerase fungi—the same fungi the Fosselites introduced into Dr. Macoby’s bloodstream six years ago, I might add. As you can see, she’s fine.”
He’d hoped for a chuckle or at least a few smiles from the Board, but their faces remained serious. He licked his lips and continued. “Lab results indicate a healthy organism will be capable of naturally flushing the neurotoxins under normal UV exposure. There should be no long-term effects. Also consider that by placing reversions among the cannibals, we might gain interest in conversion and convince many to give up their violent, cannibalistic ways. We’ll be continuing our mission to make the world safe again.”
Gentian let out a disparaging breath. “Pfft. I think you�
��re overly optimistic, Councilman. We’ve seen how difficult it is to convince the people at the Holdout to convert.”
“The cannibals may prove more willing than the religious zealots. We must try.”
“Is there a way to track the reversions? To collect data on their survival rate?” Arnica asked.
The idea had not occurred to Rael, but he liked it. “I will look into planting a GPS chip during the fungal insertion.”
Gentian closed down his gamma pad. “These reversions are on the verge of termination due to noncompliance, anyway. Let’s allow them to go.”
Arnica nodded. “How many do you propose to trial with this first project?”
“We have a short list of three or four.”
Tula slumped back in her chair. “Sending them out there is a death sentence.”
Rael nodded. “Perhaps, for a few. This project will take time, I don’t deny it. But this program is our best option to nullify the Fosselite threat, and it may be the only long-term hope for reversions who don’t want to stay within the Protectorate. If we allow them to leave, we have to protect them. The best way will be to make them poisonous to the Fosselites.”
Gentian said, “I vote to give provisional approval.”
Arnica heaved a sigh. “We’ll consider this a test run. All in favor?”
Rael smiled as seven hands lifted into the air.
Chapter Eight
The Holdout
Eily stuffed a paper-wrapped wedge of cheese into the quilted bag she normally used to carry her knitting. Yarn and needles lay scattered across the kitchen table. She’d already packed a blanket and donned her church shoes, since her regular shoes were old and might not last the journey.
Gid stood with his back to the screen door, blocking the exit. She refused to meet his eyes. He could have at least argued with Ijon on her behalf. For Ana. Violence wasn’t allowed among the Order, but words were. Gid hadn’t even offered those, only watched as Ijon’s goons took Jubal and Rann prisoner.
Gid’s mother, Beth, was at the kitchen sink, hands on her hips. “Eily, this is insanity.” Her voice had the firm but loving edge Eily had grown familiar with in the six years she’d lived with the family.
Gid crossed his arms. His face was still darkened by grime from the Burn, making his pale blue eyes appear intense. “I forbid you.”
Eily stared at him, her gut twisting. The Order taught that wives were subject to their husbands, and Eily wanted to be a good wife. She wanted to please him. But her sister was alive. “You’re not my husband yet, Gid.”
He ran his hands through his hair, releasing a cloud of dust. “Do you want to live with the cannibals?”
“No!” Eily took a step back. The Order had a hard time accepting her green skin, but the tribes would outright kill her. Of that she was sure. How Ana had survived this long was a miracle. “But I want to save her. Even if it means disobeying you.”
His mouth hardened, and he turned to look out the screen door.
Beth said, “Your wedding is in less than a week.”
“This is my sister. I can’t leave her out there.”
Gid spoke softly, without turning around. “You don’t even know where she is.”
“The traders said they’ll show me the way.” The hollowness in Eily’s heart made her voice echo in her ears.
Beth asked, “Will Ijon set them free?”
“He has to. They’re traders.” She hoped he’d honor the code that ruled the Tox. She lifted her bag to one shoulder, swallowing hard at her own defiance.
Gid turned his head to meet her gaze over his shoulder. “In their eyes, you’re a Blattvolk.”
She hesitated. They’d almost grown up together. From the moment she’d arrived at the Holdout, Gid had been her staunchest supporter, in spite of pressure from the other children to reject a green abomination. He’d never called her a Blattvolk. Was he hinting at his feelings now? Unshed tears pricked her eyes. “They’re my only hope. Ana’s only hope.”
No one spoke for a few heartbeats. Finally, Gid’s eyes narrowed. “Then we go save her.”
Gratitude warmed Eily from scalp to toes, and a hot tear escaped over her lashes.
“Gid—” Beth began.
He raised a hand, palm out. “Mama, don’t argue. She’s to be my wife, and I won’t let her go alone. We’ll take the mini and try to be back in time for the wedding.”
“It’s not proper for you two to be unchaperoned.”
“Would it be more proper for me to allow her to go alone with two strange men?”
Eily licked her lips. “The traders said no dusters. We’ll have to walk like they do.”
Beth sucked in a deep breath, her brows pinched. “Gid’s leg—”
He stopped her. “I pushed the mini all the way back to the Holdout. I’ll manage.”
Eily wasn’t so sure, but she waited until they left the house to speak. “Gid, meeting the traders on the Burn was... not normal. Out on the Tox, if you can’t run, you fight back. If you can’t fight back, you die.”
“If I die it will be Gotte’s Will.”
She grabbed his sleeve, pulling him to a stop in the center of the dusty lane. “You can’t think that way. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Don’t you think I feel the same about you?”
It felt good to hear him say so, but he didn’t understand the danger. She took a breath. “When Ana and I fled the Fosselite mountain with Levi and Tula, we encountered hunters. Your Uncle Levi fought back, or we’d all four be dead. God didn’t strike him down. Levi lives—isn’t that God’s will, too?”
Gid chewed his lip. “I suppose...”
“All I’m saying is you must be ready to act in the moment. If dying doesn’t serve God’s purpose, you must fight back.”
He blinked.
A skimmer pulled up, fat wheels kicking up a cloud of dust. Behind the transparent siding, Ijon leaned over and unlatched the passenger door, allowing it to wing upward. “Get in. The Board wants to speak with you.”
Eily’s throat constricted. She’d been before the Board twice in her life. Once when she’d first arrived, and they’d wanted to meet the reversion who’d lived through Fosselite testing. Then a second time when Tula had petitioned for the Reversion Remediation program. “Are the traders okay?”
“You don’t need to worry about them. Now get in. Councilman Rael is awaiting my call.”
Gid pushed forward. “I go with her.”
Ijon bobbed his head in acquiescence.
They rode toward the Liaison Building in silence. Daylight had faded, but the tall fence lights had yet to come on. They reached the parking bay, and Ijon led the way to his office with quick strides. Eily walked more slowly to accommodate Gid as well as to gather her wits. What if the Board forbade her going? They could lock her up as a reversion. Or what if the traders had changed their minds about showing her the way? As Ijon dialed up his com screen, he indicated Eily and Gid should take seats.
Councilman Rael’s kindly face appeared on the desktop, and Ijon tapped the controls to bring up the vertical interactive. “I’ve brought Eily in, as you asked, Councilman. And her soon-to-be-husband, Gideon.”
“Hello, Eily. I hear you want to retrieve your sister from the cannibals.”
“I thought she’d sacrificed herself to save me. But she’s alive. I owe her.”
“The traders seem to think she’s happy where she’s at.”
Eily shook her head. “She’s pregnant, and every passing day she’s exposed to sunlight means her baby has less chance of survival when it’s born. We have to move her into a Garden and wean her off the UV chemicals.”
“But what if she wants to stay there?”
Something about his tone made Eily pause. Tula had warned Eily to be cautious when dealing with Board members. The Protectorate fought to keep those they converted—fought to the death. Was Rael worried Ana would be one of those reversions who never fit in? “I’ll convince her how good life is here
.”
The councilman relaxed into his chair. His naked chest looked scrawny under his loops of beads. “The Board has decided to allow a few reversions to return to the Reaches. Since your sister’s tribe appears to have accepted her, we want you to take some reversions with you and attempt to integrate them.”
A few heartbeats passed as Eily processed his request. Was he saying she was a failure? That she hadn’t convinced the reversions, so she couldn’t convince her sister? “But... what if the tribe won’t take them?”
Rael smiled again. “If these traders introduce them to people who’ve already accepted a reversion into the fold, that tribe may welcome them. But if not, our experts assure us that a group of three or more reversions can be viable together.”
“The cannibals may kill them outright.”
“That’s a risk these reversions are willing to take. They want to go back to life in the Reaches.” His brow descended into a concerned frown.
Eily licked her lips. What he proposed was possible, if not plausible. “Reversions are no longer cannibals, sir. They’re too different.”
His frown eased. “These reversions will be a first step in peaceful interactions with the cannibals. They’ll show by example that conversion reduces the need for food and the violence required to obtain it.” He nodded toward Gid. “Members of the Holdout have seen that while they suffer and starve during lean winters, you remain robust and healthy. They’ve come to accept you and some have accepted conversion.”
A flush heated Eily’s face. Endorsing conversion among the Order had never been her intent, but what he said was true.
Rael continued, “We’re tired of fighting reversions. It’s time to allow them to make their own choices.”
Unable to argue with this new policy, Eily could only shake her head. The Protectorate had never allowed converts—let alone reversions—much in the way of free will. Why did the Board suddenly think freeing reversions was a good idea? Granted, it seemed more humane than euthanasia, but only to those who didn’t understand cannibal customs. Without the support of a tribe, any reversion caught alone out on the Tox would wish for a quick, clean death.