But . . . Ellin? It wasn’t a common name these days. In fact, it hadn’t been the name their parents had planned on—until eight-year-old Rona had met her brand new sister, looked at her parents, and said, “You need to name her Ellin.”
They’d laughed. “We’re naming her Leela, in memory of my grandmother,” her father said.
“No.” Rona remembered being both somber and self-assured, even at that age. “I got a nudge. You need to name her Ellin.”
And they did.
Rona had never understood why she’d had that premonition. She still didn’t.
Get this—her name’s Ellin. Crazy, right?
Rona sipped her coffee.
Ellin and Trett sat in the dining hall, silently eating breakfast. On weekends, the food was even better than on weekdays. Ellin’s custom omelet was so stuffed with vegetables, it looked like a miniature mountain. She dug in, savoring the first few bites.
Looking up, she found Trett watching her. He immediately broke eye contact, returning his attention to his food. Ellin squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. She cut another bite of omelet, but her hunger had fled. How can I miss him this much when it’s only been three days? When he’s sitting right in front of me?
Nomi and Sep arrived and sat at a neighboring table. In a voice just loud enough for Ellin and Trett to hear, Nomi said, “Omelets are good, but I like oatmeal even more.” She glanced over, caught Ellin’s eye, and turned her attention back to her food.
Oatmeal was their code word for Let’s meet at the coffee shop in the city as soon as possible. It seemed silly to Ellin, like something from a bad spy movie, but it worked. In a building owned by Merak, they couldn’t be too careful.
Ellin and Trett had already checked out hovs so they could join Rona in Krenner. They finished eating and set off down the road.
Most of their past hov trips had been enjoyable. Ellin had let herself relax, chatting and laughing through the helmet microphone. This time, she and Trett didn’t link their mics to each other’s speakers. Trett let Ellin take the lead, and she kept looking back, wondering what he was thinking as he floated behind her.
Her stomach, constantly twisted in knots these days, released a little of its tension when she got to the coffee shop and saw Rona. She didn’t love spending time with her sister, but being around Trett was slightly less awkward when Rona was there.
“I have new information,” Rona said after Ellin and Trett ordered. “I’ll read it to you. It’s from my friend.” Keeping her voice low, she shared several facts she’d learned about Merak’s family.
Ellin shook her head. “When he told me his life story, I’m surprised he didn’t mention he has a daughter with the same name as me.”
“Technically you have the same name as her,” Rona said.
Ellin raised an eyebrow.
“She was born before you,” Rona said, her gaze oddly intense.
“Right.” Ellin shrugged. “I didn’t get a chance to check the news this morning. I’d better do that.” She pulled up the news interface on her flex.
“I’m surprised Nomi and Sep aren’t here yet,” Trett said.
Ellin looked up. “Me too.” Nomi’s salary enabled her to keep up a glidecraft rental, and that got her around faster than a hov. She always brought Sep with her.
Ellin searched for news stories using the word Cellerin. Scanning the results, she gasped. “You’ve both got to see this.” She tapped the screen and shared a story to Rona’s and Trett’s flexes.
The story was on the homepage of Rayson Media’s primary publication, The Vallinger Report. The headline read,
Caution is Warranted at Cellerin Mountain, Researchers Say
Trett’s eyes widened. “They published it!”
“They did indeed,” Rona said.
For several minutes, the table was quiet as they all read the feature. The server brought Ellin’s and Trett’s drinks, but Ellin ignored hers.
“Do you think Merak will know Nomi and Sep were behind this?” Trett asked.
“I hope not,” Ellin said. “The story only quotes researchers who aren’t here in Therro. It never mentions on-site sources.”
They continued to discuss the article, which included much of the evidence Nomi and Sep had gathered. It was the most natural, normal conversation they’d had in three days.
After half an hour, Ellin said, “I wonder what’s taking them so long.”
“I’m sure they just got a late start,” Trett said.
Ellin nodded, then looked back at her flex. She pulled up one news publication after another. “Nobody else has picked up the story, at least not that I can find.”
“Are you really surprised?” Rona asked.
Trett tilted his flex toward her. “Look, though—it’s all over social media.”
“Are you talking about the accident?”
All three of them looked up. Their server was standing at their table.
“What accident?” Trett asked.
“Oh, you said something was all over social media, so I thought that’s what you were talking about. A glidecraft crashed a couple of clommets outside Krenner. Nobody could’ve survived. Everyone local is talking about it.”
Dread sprouted in Ellin’s stomach, and she wondered if this was what Rona’s premonitions felt like. “Do they know who was in the craft?”
“No, it was a rental, and the agency won’t give up that information unless a court requires them to.” She flashed a bright smile. “Anyone want a refill?”
They couldn’t get their hovs close to the crash site. It was cordoned off with energy tape that would deliver a slight shock if touched. The glidecraft was smoking, black char marks on its body.
There were enough unburned surfaces to discern the vehicle’s original finish—a glittery, royal blue. More than once, Ellin had heard Nomi gush over the color, saying she hoped someday she could buy a craft just like the one she’d rented.
“We should go,” Rona said.
“I just want to see if we can get closer,” Ellin protested.
Rona jerked her chin to the right, and Ellin and Trett looked in that direction. There was another glidecraft hovering nearby. It was stark white, marked only with the name of a rental agency.
“Our boss is in there,” Rona said. Seeing Ellin’s questioning expression, she tapped the side of her helmet. “Trust me on this. Let’s go.”
Ellin couldn’t help but look at the white craft as they drove by. A rented glidecraft—for a man who had a far more comfortable private craft.
A man who had every reason to get rid of two rogue researchers.
20
SATURDAY, CYON 23, 6293
-14 DAYS
As soon as they got back to camp and returned their hovs, Trett pulled his flex out of his pocket. He read it and groaned.
“What?” Rona asked.
“They need me to come into work today.”
“On a weekend? Why?”
“Doesn’t say.” He turned toward the supply warehouse, not even looking at Ellin as he walked off.
Ellin turned to Rona, wishing she knew for once what her sister was thinking. “Pretty terrible what happened to Nomi and Sep, right?” she heard herself say.
Rona turned to Ellin, her expression unreadable. “Of course it’s terrible. But nearly everyone is about to die; I’m not sure it matters that it happened to them fourteen days early.”
Ellin gaped at her sister, then shook her head. “I’m gonna take a nap.”
She returned to her room and lay down, but she couldn’t sleep. So she slipped her shoes back on and walked the paths behind the dining hall.
It wasn’t long before her flex vibrated. It was an em from Trett, sent to her and Rona on their normal channel, not the encrypted one. He’d clearly written it with the assumption that someone else might be monitoring their communications. “Dr. Anson and Dr. Septimus died in a glidecraft crash this morning. I’m helping prepare for their memorial. The service is in
two days.”
Ellin collapsed her flex and slapped it back on her arm. It stung, and she was glad.
She’d known it was Nomi and Sep in that craft, but reading Trett’s confirmation made it that much more real. Had Merak been behind it? If so, how had he known what Nomi and Sep were working on? Did he know her secrets too?
Ellin spun around, suddenly convinced someone was watching her. The path was empty.
Then, with no warning, she was crying. She sat on the crushed gravel path and wiped her palms harshly across her wet cheeks. “This is stupid,” she sobbed. She didn’t even know why she was weeping for people she hardly knew.
Except underneath it all, she did know why. Images of Nomi, Sep, and Trett entered her mind. In the last three days, she’d lost them all, in one way or another.
After she took several deep gulps of air, her breathing steadied again. She pulled her flex off her forearm and firmed it. If someone was monitoring her flex usage, they might have seen Trett’s message. They’d probably expect Ellin to look for more information. She clicked the news icon and navigated to local stories.
The crash was there, but the article was short. No one knew what had caused the craft to go down, and so far, no one had leaked the victims’ names to the press. Or perhaps they had, and the Screening Department had squashed the story.
Ellin absentmindedly scanned through news articles, returning to world news when she didn’t see anything interesting in the local section. Her eyes widened at the headlines she found:
Merak Technologies on the Verge of Medical Advancement in Therro
* * *
Archeological Update: Breakthroughs at the Birthplace of Civilization
* * *
Unlimited Lifespans? Merak Researchers Are Optimistic
She’d written every one of these stories. When they hadn’t been immediately printed, she’d figured they didn’t meet standards.
Now it was clear: it wasn’t that the stories weren’t good enough. They were too good. The Press Office had held them back, reserving them to combat any negative media that made it past the Screening Department. More would doubtless be published in the coming hours.
Scanning one of the articles, she saw a video at the end, something that hadn’t been in her original draft. She clicked on it and watched Dr. Rouven explain beneficial radiation in his warm, intelligent voice, using words anyone could understand. He was followed by an animated Therroan historian discounting “conspiracy theories” about a “magical space rock.”
Ellin was convinced that anyone who read the article in The Vallinger Report would disregard its dire warnings once they watched the video and read the accompanying article.
She pulled up the other two articles she’d written. They included the same video. Nomi and Sep’s story had been out for mere hours, and it was already buried in an avalanche of optimistic crap written by Ellin herself.
Are their deaths totally purposeless? Ellin closed her eyes and thought back on conversations she’d had with Nomi. A name popped into her head, the person from home Nomi had missed the most: Lorella . . . but what’s her last name?
She clicked the search icon on her flex, pulled up the letterkeys, and typed, “Nomi Anson Lorella”.
The first result was a profile of Nomi. It was several years old, but it included the information Ellin had been looking for:
Dr. Anson has been married for eight years to Dr. Lorella Shover, a professor of art at Inger College.
One more search, and Ellin had Dr. Shover’s contact information. She drafted a quick IDM expressing her condolences, finishing it with the all-too-inadequate sentence,
I didn’t know your wife well, but I do know she was brave, intelligent, and kind. I am committed to honoring her by following in her footsteps.
She scheduled it to send in two days, just in case Nomi’s wife hadn’t gotten the news yet. Then Ellin collapsed her flex, placed it on her arm, and walked back toward camp.
“I want to help with the memorial service.”
The receptionist at the small executive office building raised her eyebrows. “Have you been invited to help?”
“No, but I worked with Nomi—uh, Dr. Anson—in the research room. I want to do something.”
The door behind the receptionist clicked open, and Alvun Merak stepped out. His mouth broke into a wide smile. “Ellin, what are you doing here on a weekend? You should be out enjoying city life. Or at least taking a nap. You’ve been working hard lately!”
“Thank you, Mr. Merak. I worked in the same room as Dr. Anson, and I’d like to help with her memorial.”
His eyebrows rose. “I’m surprised you’ve already heard about that.”
“My boyf—uh—my friend Trett was pulled in to help.”
“Of course. I’m headed to the supply warehouse now. Walk with me, and we’ll see if there’s something you can do.”
“Thank you.”
They walked to the warehouse, but Merak stopped short of the door. Ellin halted too.
“Did you get to know Dr. Anson well in your time here?” he asked.
“We haven’t been here long, but I liked her a lot.”
Merak nodded. “So did I.” He blinked, and his eyes shone with unshed tears.
Ellin schooled her face, not allowing her shock to show. Merak had been at the scene of the accident in an unmarked glidecraft. Just that fact had nearly convinced her he was responsible for the crash. Yet here he was, clearly emotional as he talked about it.
“Did you know her well?” Ellin asked, more to break the silence than anything. “And Dr. Septimus?”
Merak gave her a sad smile. “Our little camp is like a family. I know every person who works here. I’d had plenty of meetings with both of them, discussing their findings. I can’t tell you how troubled I am to know they’re gone. I even took a glider out there to see the accident when I heard about it. Not sure why I put myself through that, but . . .” He shrugged.
Ellin swallowed. “You—you did?”
Merak nodded. “Not my own glider; I didn’t want to attract the press. I want to respect the families and keep this out of the media if we can. I had to see for myself though.” He blinked again and swallowed, and this time, a single tear escaped his eye. He caught it with a finger before it could roll down his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” Ellin said, her own eyes filling with tears.
“Thank you, but I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Let’s go in, shall we?”
Inside, a manager gave Ellin a few options of where she could help. Before she could respond, Merak said, “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Ellin, why don’t you research Dr. Anson and Dr. Septimus and write their eulogies? We’ll distribute them on the camp network.”
“That sounds great.”
He told her she could use a workstation in the warehouse office, or she could return to her room. She saw Trett counting chairs. There was something comforting about watching him work. She chose the deskscreen in the office.
Nomi and Sep were both well known in their fields, and there was more information about them on the network than Ellin would ever need. She set to work prioritizing the most important facts and digging up anecdotes that reflected the two researchers’ personalities.
As she worked, Ellin kept an eye on the warehouse through the glass wall that separated it from the office. She’d assumed Merak would check up on things and head back to his office. Instead, he stayed. He carried supplies, gave feedback where requested, and helped Trett stack chairs on carts.
The more she watched, the more Ellin was convinced of one thing: while Alvun Merak had taken some actions that were unethical, such as controlling the press, he was a good person. She tried to picture him ordering a hit on his employees, but such an image didn’t match with the man who’d cried with her on the porch and was now pitching in to help with the memorial.
When they’d met in the lobby of the Press Office weeks earlier, Al
vun Merak hadn’t been ready to hear the truth. That was before he’d personally witnessed her work ethic. Now, he clearly respected her, even trusted her enough to be vulnerable with her.
Ellin had to try again. She’d approach him and insist he listen to reason. With their deadline only two weeks away, what could she lose?
She couldn’t tell Rona. Her sister would insist they wait until some prophecy came along to guide them. For once, Ellin wanted to act boldly and live with the consequences.
Her eyes roamed over the warehouse, and she caught Trett watching her. He looked away, and that simple action shot tightness into her chest. I can’t tell him either. He might want to come, and I can’t handle that right now. She’d approach Merak alone.
Maybe all their strategies were too complicated. Saving the world might be as simple as initiating a conversation.
Late that afternoon, Ellin saw Merak standing at the front door of the warehouse, waving goodbye to the workers. She leapt up, opened the door behind her workstation, and slipped outside.
It didn’t take long for her to run around the building, but Merak’s brisk steps had already carried him halfway to the executive office building.
Ellin kept running and called, “Mr. Merak!”
He turned.
She caught up with him and smiled through her panting breaths. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”
“Sure. Walk with me?”
“Thanks.”
She matched her strides to his, their feet creating a soothing cadence on the crushed gravel. Ellin couldn’t think where to start the conversation.
Merak said, “I’m sorry you and Trett broke up.”
Ellin’s head swiveled to face him.
He explained, “You almost referred to him as your boyfriend earlier, and then you corrected yourself. Plus, you never once talked to each other in the warehouse.”
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 16