Broken Sky

by L. A. Weatherly

  I didn’t answer.

  “Hey, sister, you hear me? I’m not coming in there after it.”

  “Go away,” I whispered.

  The guard huffed out a breath. “Fine, have it your way. No tray, no breakfast tomorrow.”

  He turned and left. He wasn’t humming any more. I pulled the blanket more tightly around myself. The opposite wall of my cell had a spiderweb of cracks on it; a few scraps of graffiti.

  I memorized every one.

  After a long time the music from the telio stopped and a news story came on. The words were inaudible to me, but the announcer’s urgent tone pierced through my turmoil. Wincing from my bruises, I sat up.

  “Holy moly, would you believe it…?” the guard muttered from the office. The telio grew louder as he turned the volume up.

  “…as reported previously, shocking new evidence has come to light. It’s been conclusively proven that bribes were being accepted by the World for Peace, affecting Peacefighting conflicts up to and including Tier One fights…”

  My scalp went electric; I leaped to my feet. Officer Page had done it! He’d found the documents – made the right people in the media listen. But as the announcer continued, dread touched me.

  I gripped the bars, listening frantically. The announcer wasn’t mentioning Gunnison! The story made it sound as if the World for Peace had acted on its own, for financial gain only.

  “…such as pilot Amity Vancour of the Western Seaboard, one of the worst offenders, now taken into custody for treason. In the hour since this news has broken, the world’s reaction has been swift. Countries who have lost vital conflicts are demanding restitution. Riots have—”

  The announcer’s voice broke off. The sound of shouts came through the telio. Another voice started talking – fast, desperate.

  “We’re not supposed to tell you this. The Central States have just attacked our eastern border. Repeat! Gunnison has just attacked our eastern border, near Claremont. He’s got an army – tanks – soldiers are shooting anyone who resists—”

  War.

  I stood frozen, numb. The story continued: “It’s brutal here – no one’s ever seen anything like it – the soldiers are showing no mercy—” On and on, each word more terrible than the last.

  From outside, shouts started filling the air. “Gunnison’s attacking! Get to the planes!” Someone ran past my cell, their footsteps crunching against the gravel. It woke me from my stupor.

  “Let me out!” I yelled. I rattled my cell door. “Let me out, do you hear me?” When no answer came, I shouted harder. I grabbed up my tray and banged it against the bars.

  “Knock it off!” yelled the guard.

  “You’ve got to release me!” I threw the tray through the bars. It clattered against the opposite wall.

  The guard appeared in front of my cell, his eyes wide. “Hey, what are you—?”

  “I’ve got to help fight!”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Listen to what’s going on!” I was almost crying with frustration. “I have to help! Please!”

  Suddenly the telio was drowned out by a whine from the base loudspeaker. Hendrix’s voice boomed:

  “The Central States have attacked the Western Seaboard – repeat, the Central States have attacked the Western Seaboard! I’ve just received the order from President Lopez that we will fight. All flying personnel, report to the airfield immediately…”

  “All flying personnel!” I shouted at the guard.

  “Yes, but…but I can’t just—”

  A rhythmic pounding came from the telio. “I’ve got the door barricaded; they’re trying to get in,” said the announcer in a rush. “They’re shooting people, forcing them from their homes—”

  Our own door banged open. Light footsteps ran towards us. I stared as Vera appeared, breathing hard. She didn’t look at me.

  “You have to let her go,” she told the guard tautly.

  “Miss, I can’t!”

  “…tanks in the streets,” the announcer was saying. “Tanks. He must have been planning this for—”

  Vera’s hands were clenched. “It doesn’t matter what she’s done! She’s still one of our best pilots!”

  The guard hesitated.

  I gripped his arm through the bars. “Listen to what’s happening! I have got to help fight!”

  Gunshots echoed from the speakers. A long moment later, dance music came on. The bubbly melody played against the sound of shouts from outside, and of Hendrix’s voice still echoing. The guard went white.

  “Let her out!” yelled Vera. “Now!”

  His hands trembled as he fumbled with his keys. He unlocked my door and swung it open. “All right, but….but if anyone asks…”

  I didn’t care what would happen if anyone asked. I pushed past him and Vera and I ran for the door.

  It was just after dawn. Sirens wailed through the air. As we raced through the palm-lined streets others joined us – pilots, fitters, mechanics, some pulling on clothes as they went. Vera’s face was set as she ran beside me.

  “Thanks,” I huffed out to her.

  We rounded the drive to the airstrip. “I don’t know if what they’re saying about you is true, Amity,” she said finally. “It’s hard to believe it. But…sometimes you don’t really know a person.”

  I thought about my father and emotions battled in my throat. “What they’re saying isn’t true,” I said. I shot her a glance. “Is Collie all right?” I asked urgently.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since before he lost the Tier One fight.”

  “He flew it?” My voice rose in dismay. That was days ago.

  We shoved through the outside door to the changing room. Vera nodded, breathless. “I saw him getting ready. He looked like he should have still been in sickbay; he was really pale. I haven’t seen him since. I don’t think anyone has.”

  She glanced at me in sudden dread. “Amity, you don’t think…?”

  I didn’t answer as we raced down the corridor. Collie had been forced into flying, though he must have suspected a trap. This was what Hendrix’s strange smile had meant. Picturing again the red mist on the grass – the other pilot’s shattered body – I wanted to curl into a ball and keen.

  You’ve got the rest of your life to grieve for Collie, I told myself savagely. Right now, all that matters is stopping Gunnison.

  When we got inside the changing room it was chaos. My old locker had been given to someone else. I rushed to the box where stray items were kept and started snatching things out. Gloves, goggles. I yanked on a flight suit that was two sizes too big.

  “Vancour!” called a voice.

  I turned, and Harlan tossed me a leather jacket. Our eyes met and he smiled slightly.

  Outside, the planes waited. Fitters scrambled over them like ants, getting them ready. As I ran for the Doves, Vera and Levi were ahead of me, Harlan and Steve just behind.

  Hendrix’s voice still boomed: “Repeat, we’ve been given the order to fight – all flying personnel, report immediately – pilots, you’ll take off in T minus ten minutes—”

  I wondered acridly what Hendrix thought of the order to fight Gunnison. I reached one of the planes. “Get the chocks!” I yelled to a fitter. My bruised muscles sang as I swung myself up onto the wing. I ignored them and shoved open the hood.

  “Amity!” called a voice.

  I glanced back. Vera was just getting into the plane behind me on the runway. She hesitated, studying me in the dim morning light.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “You too,” I told her.

  Chapter Forty-two

  “We interrupt this programme for an important announcement. The Reclamation of the Western Seaboard has begun!”

  Kay had been listlessly making herself a sandwich; she stopped mid-motion and stared at the telio. As the broadcast continued, she lunged for the dial and turned up the sound. She huddled on her sofa, staring wide-eyed at the black-and-white H
armony symbol that filled the small screen.

  Half an hour later, she hadn’t moved. The announcer enthused on and on.

  “…as every citizen knows, President Gunnison’s Twelve Year plan has seen us safely through the first dozen years of his reign. Now, with the Reclamation under way, we’re at last embracing our glorious destiny! Rejoice, fellow citizens! The stars are truly smiling on the Central States today. Soon the entire Western Seaboard will be ours, the two countries again united under our beloved President Gunnison’s rule…”

  Finally the national anthem started playing. Kay swallowed, her thoughts wild. Had Gunnison used her advised location for the attack? What “unknown puzzle piece” had swayed him?

  And what did this mean for her?

  After Gunnison had sent her home five days ago, she hadn’t dared budge from her apartment. Once, and only once, a messenger from Gunnison’s office had appeared and handed her an envelope.

  Inside was a note:

  Vancour met with reporter Milton Fraser, date of birth 08 10 13, time/place of birth 04.53 WST Seattle. She gave him all info from Bark’s office. Should story be allowed to break?

  Kay had regarded the note with horror. Damn this Vancour person – would she never stop? Then her skin prickled with hope: Gunnison must still value her opinion.

  “Come back in half an hour,” she’d told the messenger, and she’d feverishly begun to work.

  How to reply had been simple. No, of course the story shouldn’t break. She’d promised Gunnison that Vancour’s actions would benefit them – the world would be outraged to learn that fights had been fixed. She’d cast a chart showing the journalist was a threat, and sent it back to Gunnison at once.

  She’d heard nothing in response.

  Soon after, going crazy with anxiety at the thought of Vancour out there doing who knew what, she’d made a decision. Though she’d claimed the pilot couldn’t endanger them, enough was enough; Kay’s own life was at stake.

  She’d prepared a chart showing it was time to capture Vancour. Release her photo publicly if you can, she’d written. Mercury in retrograde demands it. Again she’d received no word from Gunnison’s office, not even an acknowledgement. And now this.

  Kay blinked as she became aware of cheers.

  Dazedly, she went to her window and tugged it open. An impromptu parade snaked down the street – trash-can-lid cymbals banged out a jubilant rhythm. A song bawled by hundreds of voices floated up; she recognized “Happy Days are Here Again”.

  Wes-tern lands are ours again,

  Give us the sun and moon and Mars again,

  Johnny Gun is here to stay, amen!

  Wes-tern lands will soon be ours!

  A smile gradually grew over Kay’s face.

  The tune was contagious – she propped her elbows on the sill and hummed along. Below, a little boy waved a Harmony flag; he shrieked with laughter as his father scooped him up onto his shoulders. A couple danced past, the man twirling the woman dramatically.

  “The Central States!” he shouted.

  People on the street caught each other’s eyes and grinned at the antics. Many raced to join in. Kay had no idea how many were actually celebrating and how many just wanted to be seen as patriotic. It didn’t matter. The mood was exultant.

  A long, shiny black auto edged through the parade, honking. A pair of red-and-black Harmony flags fluttered on its hood. Kay straightened, her eyes widening as the auto pulled up at the kerb outside her building. The flags fell still.

  A man with tousled brown hair a little older than Kay got out. A second later Kay heard footsteps jogging up the stairwell. She whirled, her heart beating fast, as a knock came at her door.

  When she opened it, the man had a hand propped on her doorjamb. He glanced up at her with a grin. “Hi,” he said. “Remember me?”

  “Mac Jones,” said Kay.

  “The very one.” He shook her hand. “Hey, nice to see you again. Can you come downstairs for a minute?”

  At street level the music was still playing; laughing shouts filled the air. As Kay reached the long black auto, its back door swung open.

  “Get in,” said John Gunnison. He was smiling.

  In a dream, Kay slid onto the red leather seat. Gunnison leaned across her. “One of the other cars will take you home,” he said to Mac Jones. “Thanks for all your help, bud.”

  Mac gave a little salute. “Pleasure, Johnny. As always. I’ll let you know when Sandy checks in.”

  Inwardly, Kay’s eyebrows rose. She hadn’t thought Mac was high-up enough to call Cain “Sandy”. Then the auto pulled away and she forgot about it. Gunnison handed her a glass filled with sparkling liquid.

  “This time it is champagne,” he said. “I don’t know much about it – more of a beer man, myself – but they tell me this is fine stuff.”

  “Thank you,” murmured Kay. She took the glass and clinked it against Gunnison’s.

  “To the Central States,” he said. “And to us, Kay.”

  Kay. The warmth of his presence – his smile – was like being near a small sun. Kay melted in its glow. She wished she were wearing a prettier dress. She wished…no, she didn’t really wish for anything at all. Just to be sitting here with John Gunnison was enough.

  “To us,” she echoed.

  Gunnison settled back against the leather seats, studying her intently. “Lady Harmony told me this would happen,” he said. “Did you know that, Kay?”

  He said it so simply, without guile. Kay shook her head.

  “Oh, yes. I think I’ve mentioned that I pray to her a lot. Well, she whispered to me to take your advice when you said Milt Fraser was a danger, and about releasing that pilot’s photo. Later on, we found out Vancour passed information to a WS cop. Know what Lady Harmony told me that time?”

  “What?” asked Kay faintly.

  Gunnison drew a piece of paper from his briefcase and handed it to her.

  An inter-office memo. Kay read a few lines and gasped; her gaze flew to Gunnison’s.

  “Yep,” he said. “I released the information to the press myself, through certain channels. Or at least…I told ’em all they needed to know.” He gave her a conspirator’s smile.

  The memo described how the world was reacting, even as Gunnison’s auto purred down the streets. International relations are in chaos. Countries that have lost vital conflicts are questioning the veracity of the Peacefights and demanding restitution. Riots have broken out worldwide and makeshift armies are attacking each other across borders.

  Kay stared numbly at the words. She called herself an expert on human nature…yet she’d never seen this coming. It hadn’t even occurred to her, not after a century of peace.

  The world was at war.

  She dragged her attention back to Gunnison as he held up his champagne glass and studied the bubbles. “You know, at first I couldn’t hear Harmony’s whisper,” he said. “So I drew a Tarot card to help me focus. Guess which one it was.”

  A chill crept along Kay’s spine. It wasn’t possible… was it?

  “The Tower,” she said.

  And inevitably, John Gunnison drew that card from his inside pocket. The artwork showed the tiny people tumbling, screaming.

  “The fire and fury that was promised,” he mused. “The card from your spread, Kay. You were right: Vancour was the puzzle piece we’ve been waiting for.”

  Kay swallowed. If something still went wrong… “Is…is it over yet?” she asked.

  “No, but they can’t beat us. The question was how the world would react, and now I think we’ve got our answer. This is why the stars wanted me to wait.”

  Slowly, Kay nodded. The world was in turmoil; their attack on the Western Seaboard would just be seen as more of the same. Gunnison would silence whoever in the WS needed to be silenced. Once the dust had settled and the borders had changed, would anyone even dare to comment?

  She hesitated. “When I dowsed for you that day, you said you’d set your sights a little l
ow.”

  “Yeah, that’s a fact.” Gunnison grinned. “You haven’t guessed what’s so important about that dusty little town? Kay, the whole region is full of uranium.”

  At her blank look his smile turned roguish.

  “The Cataclysm,” he said. “I’ve had scientists working for years to figure out exactly how it happened. Now we know the ancients’ secret.”

  Kay’s face went slack; she quickly regained her composure. Suddenly the auto’s engine sounded like the hum of incoming bombs. A dizzying image came from her childhood history books: mushroom clouds that billowed towards the sky.

  Gunnison took a slow sip of champagne.

  “I wasn’t certain until you dowsed for me,” he said. “It’s not only my destiny to bring Harmony to the Western Seaboard, Kay. I’ll bring Harmony to the entire world – with fire and fury if necessary.”

  Kay gave an inward shiver, thankful that she was on the winning team. “That’s wonderful,” she said weakly.

  “But hey, enough of that! We’re celebrating something else today too, you know.”

  The Central States leader covered her hand with his. “Mr Skinner’s recent performance has been…disappointing. I need someone with more vision.” He squeezed her fingers. “How would you like to be my new Chief Astrologer?”

  All other thoughts vanished in a wave of triumph and relief. She’d done it! She would survive and with a vengeance. Kay smiled into his eyes. “I’m honoured to accept, Johnny,” she said softly. “I’ll serve you the best I can.”

  Gunnison beamed. “Well, now, that’s just fine!”

  He poured more champagne. As the golden bubbles frothed from the bottle, he said, “Of course, I don’t think there should be any more secrets between us, do you?”

  Apprehension fluttered. Kay lifted her glass and took a cautious sip. “Secrets?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I…I don’t think I…”

  “Really?”

  To her alarm, Gunnison’s expression had become measured. Unsmiling.

  “I don’t like liars, you know,” he said.

  Kay’s blood froze. “I’m not one.”

  “No?” His gaze flicked over her. “Well, now, this is just a hypothetical. But for instance, if my new Chief Astrologer secretly thought astrology was a sham…then that would be a pretty big lie. Do you agree?”