The Breadth of Creation

by C. S. Johnson

  He sighed. “Why do you want war so openly? What do you have to gain from it but trouble?”

  “Because I want my family back!” Merra yelled. When he just stared at her, she continued. “I want my children and my husband, all of us, together, once more. That’s something worth fighting for.”

  Exton could understand. His father had been killed by the URS. His mother died of grief. Their dreams had rotted away like the forbidden fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, leaving a bad taste throughout the rest of the world.

  Exton knew he had Emery, but she had Tyler, and now they had a baby on the way. Emery had a family now. He didn’t.

  If only St. Cloud hadn’t destroyed Aerie’s memories of him when he used the Memory Serum, he might’ve had a family, too.

  “Even if we went to war,” he said carefully, “the Aerie I knew is gone.”

  “No she’s not,” Merra scoffed. “Just her memory of you is gone.”

  “Her memory of me and everything the Perdition stood for.”

  “If you don’t want to fight her for her,” Merra said, “I can see why you won’t fight for the rest of the world.”

  He narrowed his gaze angrily.

  She sneered back. “I suppose you think it would be best for her to continue her life in the URS? Maybe she’ll go back to that Rearden boy. He’s been very diligent about seeing to her care since she was returned.”

  Exton felt a rush of unpleasantness pool inside of him.

  “He has Victor’s approval, you know,” Merra continued. “He’ll be allowed to apply for cohabitation, see about getting them set up in a unit of their own.”

  Exton struggled to push away the thought of some other boy kissing Aerie, holding her, keeping her for himself.

  She’s mine.

  Was it really such a risk to get her back? Even if it meant war? What if Merra was right, and they could win?

  Merra’s just using you. She has her own agenda.

  He finally managed to find some clarity at that thought. He couldn’t trust Merra St. Cloud any more than he was able to trust Aerie when he first met her. “Playing on my pride now?”

  She smirked. “It’s working.”

  The pounding in his head came as the rain started to fall. For a long moment, as the storm settled inside the Antarctic circle, Exton met Merra’s gaze coldly. “What makes you think we can really win?”

  “First of all, you already have a large number of people who want to go to war on your side.” Merra gestured behind him, where Exton could see more men and women as they hurried into the shelter of Petra’s settlement.

  “Not all of them do.”

  “The URS has been vulnerable for some time now,” she continued, ignoring his small protest. “Like any good totalitarian regime, it’s sowing the seeds of its own destruction. They’ve been cracking down on dissenters and defectors precisely because they know there’s an alternative now. The Ecclesia has managed to spread the word around. More people are asking for Petra’s aid.”

  Exton knew all too well of the power news and gossip had in the Ecclesia. He often relied on its accuracy, even though the leaders bemoaned its frequency. He sighed. “What else?”

  “Osgood has largely finished consolidating his power,” she said. “Victor has been promoted to his Lieutenant Commander-in-Chief. Given his background in military leadership, his replacement would be easy to disregard, along with the rest of his inner circle.”

  “Who replaced St. Cloud in the role of Chief Military Strategist?” Exton hadn’t thought about the general’s replacement.

  Merra laughed. “It’s Gerard Dubois. He’s one of Osgood’s ‘yes men,’ all the way through. Victor hated teaching him while he was in school.”

  Exton felt a warning shot burn through him. Before he could ask further questions about Gerard’s appointment, Merra once more continued on with her planning.

  “It’ll be simple to take them down. We can use the ships you have in the Perdition, along with the forces I’ve accumulated from Chaya, and then ... ”

  As Merra droned on, Exton made a mental note to tell Tyler about Gerard before allowing himself to focus once more on Merra. Given the option, he knew Merra would try to overrun him, and while he hated to admit it, she was already starting to make him reconsider his position.

  He’d seen the end of the resistance, but he never thought it would be as volatile as it was shaping up to be. He knew the risks of going to war, and that had kept him from targeting larger camps or disrupting warfare with greater collateral risks.

  But as Merra’s words washed over him, he recognized he had been far too quick to say Merra was nothing like Aerie.

  Aerie had brought his heart back to life. Now, Merra was pushing for his hope.

  He stood there, watching the Memory Tree as it weathered its first storm.

  What could really go wrong if we went on the offensive? Exton wondered. The URS was already killing people. St. Cloud had Aerie tucked away, back under his watchful eye, and he knew about Petra.

  What could they really do to him to make his life worse?

  As if to answer his question, Exton felt pain rushing from the remnant of the bump on the back of his head, his souvenir from the battle with St. Cloud, as the rain began to fall.

  ♦2♦

  The headache was back.

  Aeris St. Cloud mindlessly watched the monitor before her, trying hard not to show any outward signs of the turmoil going on inside of her.

  Aerie quietly squirmed in her chair. She’d already been reprimanded three times this morning, and if Director Anand had his way, he’d make her work late—again.

  Her head suddenly pulsed with another layer of irritation at the thought of her boss, but Aerie knew it had nothing to do with the reoccurring bouts of pain she’d been experiencing for the last week. The distinctive throbbing in the back of her head always seemed to accompany an unexplainable pain in her heart.

  And it was very, very safe to say Director Anand would never find his way into her heart.

  The doctors at the med center said that her headaches would be a side effect from her injuries, but they would eventually wear off—if she didn’t stress herself or wear herself down. They told her to focus on the future and going through physical therapy, that her memory would likely come back when she least expected it, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.

  Aerie rolled her eyes at the thought of stress. That was all her work was, really, especially since her boss had already held her overtime for being late or slow or disobedient, and she’d only been out of the hospital and on her feet for three days.

  She supposed the doctors were all well and good about giving their useless advice, but they didn’t seem to understand how stressful it was for her to be unable to recall anything about her injuries. She repeatedly tried recall the moment she fell from her climbing assessment, much to dismay of her doctors, and even her father.

  You mean the General, she mentally corrected herself.

  But, Aerie thought, it was hard to think of him as just the General. Since she’d been hospitalized, he had taken the time to come and check in with her and see how she was doing. For the first time since her mother died, Aerie felt like he was more of the father she remembered from her childhood. She was shocked when he told her, in no uncertain terms, that she had “been through hell” and should only focus on the future.

  “Remembering what happened won’t help you, Aeris,” he’d said. “Getting better is more important.”

  Aerie almost smiled at the memory.

  It was nice to see that he cared, but she was determined to right her wrong from her climbing assessment, no matter what he told her. That included being aware of what went wrong. Once her shoulder was better, she would show them, she decided.

  Her head ached again, making her sigh in dismay. Going through hell was a lot easier than climbing out of it, apparently.

  “Aerie.”

  Aerie glanced over to see Claire, one of her
graduating class members who also had been assigned to Comms Sec. She was nice enough to Aerie, and Aerie was glad she had someone familiar by her side, especially since she was struggling with her memory.

  “What?” Aerie whispered back, giving her a small smile even though it felt like her head was splitting open.

  “Pay attention,” Claire said. “You’ve had a comm waiting for three minutes now.” She gestured toward the blinking light on Aerie’s control board, before turning her attention back to her own station.

  Aerie had to wonder if Claire actually cared about her or if she was looking for a promotion. Or maybe, Aerie recalled, she was just slipping back into her usual self. Claire liked to boss people around. That was part of the reason that she was selected as a coordinator for their graduation ceremony.

  Her headache spiked as she tried to recall the ceremony. Brock Rearden, her best friend, had been there. He hadn’t told her much about it. He mentioned that Dictator Osgood showed up, but she couldn’t remember why.

  Why had he been there? Why would he be there?

  She thought about asking Claire when the pain in the back of her head intensified drastically. She struggled to order herself to work.

  Claire glanced her way again. “Aerie,” she hissed. Her voice was more insistent this time.

  “I’ll get to it,” Aerie muttered. “Just give me a moment, would you?”

  Claire nodded, and then went back to ignoring her.

  Aerie closed her eyes for another long moment. Between answering the comms, learning how the systems were set up, and rerouting different signals, she was kept perpetually busy. But she was able to keep up when she felt like it. Even with the addition of the new protocols on counteracting any signal jamming and integrating the new NETech into the comms system, it should’ve been no surprise she was getting headaches more frequently.

  Finally, seeing no other choice, she flicked on her comm line. “Comms sec,” Aerie said, careful to enunciate every word.

  It was true her boss had reproached her for her sloppiness and apathetic disdain for her job, but there was nothing bad he could say about her performance otherwise.

  As the caller informed her of another malfunctioning pipe in one of the student commissaries, and went on about how it was causing all sorts of smelly problems in the mess hall, aerie let out a soft, barely perceivable sigh.

  Is this it? Aerie wondered. Is this all I will do until I grow old and die? Answer other people’s problems and connect them with plumbers?

  She wished she could remember more of her PAR. Surely, she didn’t receive this as some sort of punishment?

  Pain exploded around her head. Aerie gasped at the sudden outpouring. She finally clutched at her headset and tore it off, barely negating the temptation to toss it into her monitor.

  “What’s wrong?” Claire asked.

  “My head still hurts,” Aerie told her. She rubbed the spot on the back of her head, the point where the pain seemed to be permanently housed.

  “Let me get Director Anand,” Claire said, and before Aerie could tell her very emphatically not to, she was out of her seat and through the nearby exit.

  Aerie slumped over. “Great.” I already have one headache. I don’t need another one.

  Alone for the moment, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to relax; after all, she was going to get in trouble either way.

  The instant she closed her eyes, she felt the world as she knew it sweep away. Nondescript clouds gave way to the darkest night, where stars glimmered in the distance while the sun burned brightly.

  She felt like she was standing right in the middle of it, looking through a window at the top of a small room, with someone ... someone holding her.

  Aerie opened her eyes. The vision faded away, but the feeling of warmth and excitement stayed behind.

  Suspicion and fear crept into her. This wasn’t the first time she had a daydream that felt much more real than any daydream she’d had before. And according to her school records, she had a lot of daydreams.

  Am I going crazy? Or is it possible—

  “What do you think you’re doing, Comrade St. Cloud?”

  Aerie jumped as Director Anand came into the room. She quickly reached for her headset. “Nothing,” she tried to assure him, but his beady eyes bore into her.

  “Comrade Luceno here tells me that you are not working consistently through your tasks,” he said, nodding toward Claire as she sat down, her back straight, a new sense of superiority clouding around her.

  Aerie bit her lip. “Well, I am still recovering—”

  He waved his hand, brushing her concerns aside. “Look, Comrade, you’re putting me in a very difficult situation here. I will need to contact your unit leader—”

  “No!” Aerie objected. “No, there’s no need, sir.”

  The worst part, Aerie decided, was that if Director Anand actually contacted her unit, it was likely the General would be the one to take his call, since he was finding more excuses to come home and see her. She knew no matter how much the General had been careful to oversee her recuperation, he would not be happy to hear she was holding up operations at her job.

  If I knew it was only Phoebe who would hear his complaint, I wouldn’t care quite so much.

  Aerie knew she could withstand her stepmother’s disappointment; she’d done it before, several times. But Aerie wasn’t sure if she could deal with her father’s, especially when, for the first time since her mom died, he was paying attention to her.

  “I’m sorry to say, Comrade St. Cloud, you are not leaving me much choice,” Anand continued. “Protocol clearly states that this is what I must do in such instances as this.”

  Before Aerie could argue with him further, a bell rang, signaling the end of the shift. She looked up at Anand eagerly.

  Anand sighed. “Alright, I will let it go this time. Stay here and finish up your reports. But tomorrow, I want no mistakes.”

  Aerie beamed. “Thank you, Director,” she said as she saluted him.

  His dark brows furrowed. “There is nothing to thank me for, Comrade St. Cloud. I am only doing my duty to the URS. You would be wise to do the same.”

  “I should be done in no time,” Aerie assured him.

  Anand shook his head. “All our time goes to serving the URS. It is the quality of your work you need to perfect, not the quantity. Thinking anything less was dangerously close to being traitorous.”

  He turned on his heel and walked out the door, clearly angry he’d failed to give her a proper reprimand and punishment.

  Beside her, Aerie heard Claire sigh.

  Aerie gave her a quick, mischievous grin. “Dangerously close is still not technically traitorous, so I should be in the clear, right?”

  Claire shook her head. “Aerie, you’ve been clear to work for a week now. If you’re still not feeling well, then you need to go back to the med center.”

  “I’m fine,” Aerie lied, thinking of how much she hated the med center. I don’t want to go back there ever again if I can help it.

  Thinking of how lost and empty she felt when she woke up from her coma strengthened her. She reached for her keyboard and began typing in her notes.

  Aerie was surprised when Claire continued talking to her. “If you’re really fine, then you need to do a better job. I don’t want Comrade Anand thinking all the first year recruits are as bad as you.”

  Aerie stopped typing.

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Claire quickly insisted. “It’s just ... you’ve always had people protect you. I think it’s about time you stepped up.”

  Aerie stiffened. “If you’re sorry, you can just say so,” she replied. “There’s no need to insult me after you apologize.”

  Claire hardened her expression. “Sorry then. See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay.” As she typed, slower this time, Aerie watched Claire walk away. She was surprised when Claire actually apologized; it was never something the sta
te encouraged.

  And no wonder. It wasn’t like she managed to help me feel better.

  She was about to pull her headset back on when there was a knock at the door. Aerie glanced up to see a woman standing there.

  She had a pretty shade of blonde hair, and it was long enough to pull back into a bun; there was a small braid in her hair at the side, similar to the one Aerie had carefully crafted in her own hair. From where she was sitting, Aerie could tell the woman was close to her age, but from her medical uniform, she was likely a year or two older.

  “Can I help you?” Aerie asked.

  “I’m looking for Comrade St. Cloud,” she said.

  “That’s me.” Aerie bristled, just waiting for more disappointment.

  Instead, the woman smiled. “Oh, good. I wasn’t sure I’d catch you before the shift ended,” she said. “I have a message for you from the med center. They’d like you to come back again.”

  Aerie frowned. “But I was cleared to work.”

  The woman shrugged. “I’m not a doctor,” she said. “I just do what they tell me.”

  Aerie snorted disdainfully. “Isn’t that what we all do?” she muttered.

  Aerie was surprised to hear the woman giggle. The moment Aerie’s eyes caught hers, her hands flew over her mouth and her eyes went wide, allowing Aerie to see the sparkle in a sea of chestnut.

  Suddenly, she seemed much more familiar.

  The woman cleared her throat delicately, but Aerie knew she was just covering up her laughter. “There’s a sickness going around, I guess,” she said.

  Aerie knew the woman was amending her statements. They were, like her own earlier comments, dangerously close to being traitorous.

  But not technically, Aerie thought with a smile. She came up to the woman. “I’ll have to make sure I don’t get it from you then, Comrade, uh ... what’s your name?”

  “Oh! Oh, well, you can just call me Meredith, if you’d like.”

  “I’m Aerie,” Aerie said as she extended her hand out to the woman in a handshake.

  Before Aerie could properly examine why she even reached out a hand to Meredith at all, Meredith shook it. Aerie felt a whisper of a memory run through her—the feel of her hand in another’s strong grasp, one with a gentle roughness, one that grabbed her heart as well as her hand.