“But Mom—”
“Mom is why I’m so excited today.” Dad’s face softens, and he immediately stops walking and pulls me into an embrace. “There’s something about Arcadia that brings me closer to her.” His voice cracks with emotion. “When the curtain fell last night, I saw our dream right in front of me. It was as if your mother was standing right at my side, cheering me on and supporting me.” He pulls back. “This planet is everything. Everything, Cassi. And I need you by my side to help everyone see there’s so much more to Arcadia than we’re even aware of. I know you don’t understand yet. But you will. So we need to get down there. You’re going to love it.” His eyes sparkle in a way I haven’t seen for over a year.
Confusion stirs in me. How could he know this for sure? This will be his first trip to the surface, too.
I nod and reach for his hand. “I’m with you, Daddy.”
He smiles and gestures us forward.
When we arrive at the docking bay, a sizable group of anxious patrons wait to transfer onto the Skybase. After that, we’ll board a transport ship and descend to Primaro, the lone city on Arcadia. I’ve seen all the photos and videos, and everything about the planet should be amazing. Each building is meant to mimic and blend into the existing nature to maintain the appearance that the planet is untainted by humans. Eventually, humans will expand over the surface, but Dad believes keeping everything contained is the smart thing to do until we learn more about how to successfully live on Arcadia. It was one of the few points of little contention between him and Hammond. But that was likely only because his plan kept costs down more than anything else. Hammond is a stickler for a budget. Not that anyone can fault her for that.
“Quite a crowd,” Dad says.
From the number of multicolored jewels, gold, and expensive fabrics worn by the majority of the patrons, I know these people are the richest of the rich. They bought first dibs for the privilege of setting foot on the ground before any of the other passengers.
But then I see Hammond make her way to the front of the assembly and my excitement fizzles out. In contrast to the sequined dress she wore at the Gala, she’s now dressed in a sharp black pantsuit and a pair of flat shoes. Her hair is pulled into a low, short ponytail. The hairstyle highlights the sharp angles of her face and pinched mouth. I glance at Dad, but he’s admiring the buffet.
Lining the wall behind us is a massive spread of mostly untouched breakfast foods. Piles of bagels are loaded up on one end of the table, and bowls of cut and uncut fruit wait to be eaten alongside a variety of breakfast meats. The crowd’s energy is nearly electric, and I can’t help but let the excitement affect me. My mind buzzes with the activity.
I sneak another peek at Hammond and wind up staring straight into her ice-blue gaze. I quickly look away, shivering, but from the corner of my eye, I can see her motioning someone closer. Luca Powell appears, and she whispers into his ear. He pulls away with a quizzical expression and taps on his tablet for a brief second before rushing away without comment. Hammond’s eyes locate the back of Dad’s head and a sick feeling seeps through my stomach.
Before I have time to think much further on it, she steps onto a platform ahead of the entrance to the Skybase.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Hammond says.
Applause fills the room, and Dad and I join in.
Hammond smiles coldly and continues. “We would not be here today without your generous support. As Dr. Foster stated last night,” she looks to my father and nods, “Arcadia is our salvation, a chance to begin again and do it right. This new Eden will give the human race room to expand. We will thrive once again. And very soon, discover all the riches Arcadia has to give.”
Arcadia does have much to offer. It’s a lush planet, untainted by humans. The surface is loaded with new minerals, precious metals, and probably a number of undiscovered energy sources. But that bounty scares me, too. People are still fighting over how those things are best used on Earth, and the supply there is dwindling quickly. Money talks. Money makes the decisions. And how much people like Hammond are influenced by wealth, I don’t know. As I study the patrons’ dripping riches, I’m sure they want good returns on their sizable investments in developing Arcadia.
“Thank you again.” Hammond’s voice snaps me from my thoughts. “We’ll be disembarking to Skybase in a few moments. Please be patient.”
Hammond exits the platform. I link my arm into the crook of Dad’s. At least there are still good men like him. He has a clear voice in this situation.
“I need to take care of something, Cassi,” he says and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Sure, Dad.”
He pauses and removes his jacket. “Will you hold this? All the excitement is getting to me and I’m feeling a bit hot. You think you’ll be okay?”
I take the jacket and nod for him to go. “No problem, I’ll be just fine.”
After he leaves, I spend a few moments scanning the bay, but the cavernous, white space is pretty boring without someone to talk to. And no one around here really wants to have a conversation with a teenage girl, even if she’s Richard Foster’s daughter. Maybe Max is here. He did say he performed a form of security for the “bigwigs,” and these people are about as “bigwig” as they get.
I scan the crowd of maybe two hundred patrons and staff. But disappointingly, I don’t see Max’s spiky hair from here.
With a sigh, I check the space for Dad again. He had walked off toward the stage, but other than that, I’m not sure where he went. I know he told me to stay put. But there’s no harm in poking around a bit for Max. Plus I want to grab a bagel since I forgot to eat breakfast this morning. Tired of holding his jacket, I thread my arms through the too-big coat and pull the fabric in close. I have no idea why Dad was hot. It’s cold in here.
I stroll over to the buffet and pluck a cinnamon raisin bagel off the pile of assorted pastries. I scan the table for a topping like cream cheese, but I don’t see any. No butter, no jam, no nothing. You’d think with such a lavish display the staff wouldn’t have forgotten the spreads.
At the other end of the display stands a buffet attendant, his back to me. At least, I think he’s an attendant. Most of the people here are probably used to being served, so it makes sense that staff would be helping. But his rumpled gray uniform isn’t exactly what I expect from the quality the patrons demand.
“Excuse me,” I say to him as I grab a plate and knife. As if he doesn’t hear my question, he remains with his back to me. I try again, moving closer to his position, and speak over the room chatter. “Um, do you know if the buffet is out of cream cheese?”
This time, the boy with bronzed skin and jet-black hair swivels my way. Surprise washes over his face and he furrows his brows in confusion. He raises his hand to his chest as if to say, are you speaking to me?
“Yes, I need some help,” I say. “I was searching for the cream cheese and wondered if you had any in the back.”
His brown eyes grow wide, and instead of answering my question, he turns and dashes into the crowd of patrons.
I stand in confusion. What was that about? Maybe he’s not supposed to be here. I drop the bagel, plate, and knife onto the table and follow him. To be honest I have no idea why I'm doing this, but curiosity overtakes me.
He’s tall, over six feet, and I don’t know if it’s the unkempt uniform, but something about him makes him stand out from the crowd, even as he weaves through the people. Strangely, the scene is almost as if he’s swimming through water, his moves are so graceful. And yet none of the patrons he avoids seem to notice him.
With ease he picks up his pace, but I do too, keeping my eye on him. The strange boy nears the edge of the crowd, and the opening to a corridor waits ahead of him. I’m going to lose him if he makes it there. Too many easy exit points after that and I’m not really familiar with this wing.
I speed up to catch him, and while moving full f
orce, I accidentally slam into the shoulder of an older woman. She peers down at me in shock, and I’m pretty sure she’s the same person I sat next to at the Gala last night. When her surprise wears off, she lets out a loud yelp from our collision. The boy whips around toward the sound. He looks at the lady and then straight into my eyes. And when we lock stares, a wave of freezing energy surges through my body. I gasp but quickly shake the sensation off.
“Sorry, ma’am,” I pant.
The dark-haired boy tears from my gaze and spins away, rushing for the corridor. I push past the woman to get a visual of him again. I can’t let him get away. Ignoring the complaining woman, I surge forward again. But when I reach the edge of the hall, he’s gone—vanished.
Behind me and from the opposite end of the bay, a scream pierces my ears. Momentarily I forget about the boy and pivot toward the distress. I hope it’s not that woman. I really only tapped her.
Before I have the chance to find out, a burst of orange and white light fills the room. A cry of help sticks in my throat as intense pressure, followed by heat, slams my body into the rear wall of the corridor.
Chapter 4
Iblink my stinging eyes open to a wafting haze of gray smoke. Outside the corridor, a voice is shouting over the chaos, asking everyone to exit immediately through the south entrance. Then the emergency alarm drowns out all other sounds. I throw my hands over my ears.
What is happening? My mind spins as searing pain shoots up my neck and into the back of my head.
The smoke clears just enough for me to make out a few blurry shapes, if I squint. Beyond the corridor, people run around the bay while others lie still on the ground—hurt, maybe dead.
The memories rush back, and my chest tightens. A bomb! There was a bomb. I look down at myself to assess the damage and see Dad’s jacket.
“Daddy!” I scream and wrench myself from the ground, despite the pain in my spine and head. When I stand, the room spins, but I force myself to stay vertical and drag my aching legs through the corridor’s entrance.
The view is even worse than I expected. A large chunk of an internal wall beside the stage is blown wide open, and most of it lies on the floor. On people. Hazy smoke still fills the air, hiding the full extent of the horror. I cough and pull my shirt up over my mouth and nose.
A man runs past, and I snag his arm. He wheels toward me, his face full of panic.
“My father . . .” I say as my shirt collar drops down.
The man, whose clothes are gray with ash, stares at me with wide, blank eyes.
“Richard Foster—have you seen him?”
He shakes his head and pulls away from me.
“Help me!” I scream at the man as he disappears into the smoke.
Coughing, I sprint to the last place I saw Dad, when he was heading toward the stage. And now I can see it’s exactly where the bomb exploded. The crack of a second eruption rips through the bay. I throw my hands up into the air in self-protection at the same time that a strong arm wraps around my torso, spinning me to the ground. The space around me transforms into a misty cyan, and a jolt of icy energy takes over my body. The room’s chaos vanishes, and everything goes silent as if I’m in a protective bubble.
Am I dead?
An arm’s pressure still holds me, and the cold turns to warm. My mind clears and my mission comes flooding back. Find my dad. I wriggle to loosen myself from the stranger’s grip and shift to see who this person is.
It’s the boy I chased through the bay. Being up so close, I get a good look at his eyes. Unlike the brown eyes I’d seen before, his irises nearly glow a deep cyan. His eyes are utterly magical.
“What are you doing?” I struggle against him, trying to forget the strangeness of his eyes. “I need to find my father.”
The boy furrows his brows. I’d swear his eyes shift and become darker, almost normal. I’m imagining things. He opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it again. And instead of releasing me, he squeezes tighter. My head goes light.
I try to tell him to stop, but before I can do anything, the two of us are standing in the corridor I started in.
He spins me around and grasps my upper arms. “Listen, Cassiopeia, Richard Foster needs you to be safe.”
Anger and frustration well inside of my chest. I struggle to free myself from him. “I know. That’s why I’m trying to get to him. Let me go.”
The boy’s irises alter again with a slight cyan glow. Warmth overtakes my body and it’s as if, this time, my energy connects with his. Our souls and minds dance together as everything else fades away. His eyes widen.
“He . . . he tried to make them understand,” the boy mutters, and to be honest, I have no idea if the words are spoken out loud or straight into my mind.
He releases me, and with a snap of desperate loneliness, the connection severs, forcing me back to reality and into the horrible corridor. I inhale sharply as the boy disappears. Dizziness clouds my brain and I tumble to the ground in a heap.
“Cassiopeia!” Max shouts and drops to my side, appearing from the smoke. He gathers my torso up into his arms. “Can you walk?”
I want to tell him I can and that we need to go and find my dad. But none of the words come out. Only blackness seeps into my vision and the emptiness from the boy’s vanishing consumes me. Then everything is gone.
Everything.
∆∆∆
The strange-eyed boy comes to me in dreams colored in cyan. Tall and lean with powerful muscles and a haunting stare emanating sorrow. But when I stretch my hand out to him, he’s always too far away, standing opposite of me across a vast chasm. Arcadia’s two moons hang in the sky above, companions that are never without one another. Warm, humid air envelops my body, and I no longer need the sweaters I always wear.
I call to him, but it’s as if he can’t get to me either. I have so many questions in my mind. Why did he know my name? How did he know about my dad?
Oh, Dad. Where are you? Are you with me and now I can’t wake up and get to you?
After what seems like years, I focus my mind and will my body to return to reality. I can’t stay here. Finally, the blue-green world around me falters, and I watch as the boy blurs and fades across the chasm. The earth quakes under my feet, and I let out a scream. I rip my eyelids open to the white ceiling.
I gulp in a lungful of air and sit up. The room spins.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” a familiar voice says, but it’s not Dad’s, and a hand reaches to my shoulder and guides me to lie down once more.
I blink several times and stare toward the speaker. As I do, my vision clears, and Max is next to me, tight-jawed. Sitting up on my elbows, barely, I realize we’re in my room on the ship. My jewelry-making supplies are on the table next to me, and across the room is my computer and chair where I do my schooling. I glance down at my pajamas and then at my hand, which is tethered to an IV and attached to a bag of liquid hanging from a corner of my bed.
I dart my attention back to Max. “Why are you here? Where’s my dad?”
The purple circles under Max’s eyes tell me he might not have slept for a while. His lips form a tense closed-mouth smile, and he reaches for a pitcher on my side table. “Can I get you water? You must be thirsty.”
I prop myself up again. The dizziness doesn’t return, but my heart pounds while waiting for Max to answer my question.
“I’m not thirsty,” I snap. It’s a lie. The reality is my dry tongue is nearly sticking to the roof of my mouth.
Max pours water into a clear glass on my side table. His hand shakes, but he manages to fill the cup halfway and then sets down the pitcher.
“Can you sit now?” he asks. “Without a dizzy spell?”
I prop back up onto my elbows. “I think so.”
He places his hand on my upper back and guides me up.
“Here, drink slowly,” he says as he hands me the water.
I grab the glass and start to sip but then realize how thirsty I am and down the contents. I hol
d the empty glass out to Max. “More, please.”
He flashes me a disapproving stare. “I told you to sip it.”
“More, please,” I demand. “And answer my question!”
Max snatches the glass from my hand and drops it to his lap. “I’ve been ordered not to tell you anything yet. It’s not my place.”
Fear churns in my stomach. And he was right. I shouldn’t have drunk the water so fast. “He’s dead?” My mind races with the possibility. Both of my parents can’t be dead.
Max suddenly appears young, like a scared child.
“Tell me!” I scream and bolt up from the bed. I rip the IV off my hand and instantly regret it.
“I . . . I . . . I don’t know,” he stutters. “The Board won’t release any information about the casualties yet.”
“What do you mean?” I spin around and search for my clothes, but my mind can’t put together what I should do next. “Can Hammond do that?”
“I don’t know.” Max stands and reaches for his tablet. “I need to call the doctor. I shouldn’t have told you anything.”
I seize the tablet and hold the device away from him.
A pained look crosses his face. “Cassi, I can’t tell you anything else. After the explosion, transport shut down for two days—”
“Days? How long have I been asleep?”
“Four days,” he says and holds his hand out to me, gesturing to the bed. “Will you please lie down?”
I hand him the tablet and partially obey his request by sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Transportation to the planet shut down for two days. But the Board isn’t releasing any information about the bombing.”
I throw my head into my hands, and Max lowers himself beside me.
“What about me? What am I going to do?” I cry.
Max shakes his head. “I don’t know yet. There’s only a skeleton crew left on the ship. Almost all of the passengers have transferred to Arcadia. If you didn’t wake up after today, Hammond was going to transfer you, conscious or not.”
The Starfire Wars: The Complete Series Page 3