I listen, while a frown gathers on my forehead from the tension. “And what is the situation?” I say softly.
Still looking away from me, Aeson Kassiopei shakes his head. And he does not reply.
In that moment I remember something else I’ve been meaning to ask. “Command Pilot,” I say. “Thank you for explaining about the ark-ship. And . . . I’m sorry if this is again me stepping out of line, but there is something that has been bothering me ever since the hostage incident with Terra Patria. One of their demands—”
He looks at me, hard. “What?”
I swallow. . . . “A demand they made was for you to fly an empty ark-ship and crash it into the asteroid and cause a multi-megaton explosion that would destroy it. I was wondering, wouldn’t it make actual sense to sacrifice an Atlantean ship—or even two or more ships, to make a really big impact explosion—if it meant that all of Earth could be saved? I know it’s probably ridiculous, and there are some other considerations I’m not aware of, but—”
“It will not do any good.” His answer comes softly.
“But why?”
“They will only send another one. . . .”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “They who? What? I don’t understand. . . .”
But Aeson is looking at me with eyes filled with sorrow. “They—” he repeats softly—“will only send another asteroid.”
My mouth falls open.
Oh . . . my . . . God.
I am stunned.
Truly, I have no words right now.
Who are “they?”
But Command Pilot Kassiopei preempts my further questions. “Enough,” he says harshly, closing up again. “I have told you far more than I should, and at some point you will learn more—I promise you. But—not now, not today.”
“But—” I stammer. “Who are they? Who are you talking about? Please! Is it the Imperator, your Father? The Atlantis Central Agency? Who?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Not my Father, and not the ACA. Furthermore, you must not speak to anyone about what I’ve told you. And now, this conversation is over.”
As he reaches for the sound damper box containing the usual pieces of orichalcum for my voice lesson, I find that I’m shaking.
Later that night, and the following morning, I find that I am still stunned and mulling over the impossible implications of what I’ve learned from Kassiopei.
What is going on with that asteroid?
One thing is certain, this changes everything.
Instead of celebrating my great Pilot scores, or rehashing my carefully-laid plans for the future, about entering the Games of the Atlantis Grail in order to save my parents, or even wondering how my siblings and I will proceed once we get to Atlantis—instead of all that, I’m now obsessing over the true nature of the asteroid threat.
But I have no means of finding out anything more than I already know. My one source—the Command Pilot—is not giving me any more answers.
And so, over the next few days, and the remaining weeks, I force myself to put this on the backburner, and simply let the events play out.
Because either I do that, or I go insane with worry and soul-sickness. . . .
And right now, I need to conserve all the strength that I have for what’s coming ahead.
Chapter Forty-Two
We’ve now entered the third month of Yellow season, which is the twelfth and final month of our journey to Atlantis.
The rate of our deceleration is making itself felt, because now when we visit the observation decks of our ark-ships, we can see real interstellar space and cosmic grandeur through the softly translucent curtain of the Quantum Stream.
The Stream itself has become rarified, fine and almost non-existent, its nature a wispy fabric. . . . Right now the Fleet is passing through a thick galactic cluster, a sea of infinite stars churning in a spiral that resembles a conch shell of pearl and rose, with a rich strange physical texture that looks like something you might see under a microscope.
It’s absolutely stunning. . . .
Supposedly, things on a grand macro scale often look the same as things on a tiny micro scale. . . . Galaxies resemble amoebas. It’s only the in-between stuff that looks different to us, homo sapiens, the human race. Possibly because that intermediate scale is what we actually inhabit, and what makes sense to us. The super-big and the super-small are all unreal. Our world is somewhere in the middle.
In the third week of the third month of Yellow, with only one week before arrival on Atlantis, we have one final ship-board celebration to look forward to.
It’s the Yellow Zero-G Dance.
And my Quadrant is hosting it.
Two days before the Yellow Dance, with everyone in the Fleet making fun plans, I talk to Gracie to ask her if she wants to be my guest once again, and visit ICS-2.
But my sister tells me that she has been invited by Blayne, and is coming to our ship already. “Oh, really?” I say with a little smile. “When was this planned?”
Gracie looks closely into the screen and I see a slight blush gather on her cheeks. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” she mutters. “Blayne and I were just talking recently, and he mentioned that he’ll be around on ICS-2 the night of the Dance, so I said, why don’t we hang out.”
“Ah,” I say. “So you invited yourself over, Gee Four. Nicely played!”
“I did not!” Gracie flares with embarrassment. “I mean, we were just talking, that’s all, and since he is not busy that night—”
“Right,” I say as my smile turns into a grin.
“Stop that!” Gracie is really blushing now.
“Okay, okay!” I put one hand up and bite my lips. “Just have a good time, and be sure not to drive the boy crazy too much, okay? I’ll see you the day after tomorrow!”
So that’s settled.
Then, I figure, I can invite Laronda. I call her up, and the girl sounds all excited and immediately says yes. So, now, I finally get to see her after all these months, at last!
“Oooh, what are you going to wear?” Laronda asks me, craning her neck. “Something stunning and outrageous like you did the last time for the Red Dance? Because I’m so mad I didn’t get the chance to see your red-hot Carmen dress!”
“Oh . . .” I say. “Well, it’s still here in my closet storage bin, so you can see it if you like when you get here. I was thinking about just returning it and having them recycle it. . . .”
“What?” Laronda exclaims. “No, no way! That’s sacrilege! How can you even think of getting rid of a fabulous dress like that?”
I shrug. “It’s not like I’ll be likely to wear it again.”
But Laronda shakes her head at me and wags her finger. “You never know, girlfriend. You never know. I mean, I’m still kind of wondering how come you’re inviting me instead of that hottie Xelio as your date for this dance? Seriously, why not him again?”
I take a deep breath. “I dunno. He is smoking hot, definitely, and there is an attraction. But . . . I just, well. . . .”
“What? What?”
“I—can’t,” I say. “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t really want to lead him on and—”
“And what?” Laronda raises both her brows. “Okay, is it because of the other guy? You know, him? Your commanding officer and Imperial Princely Hotness?”
“Yeah, well, kind of. . . .” I almost cringe as I say it.
Laronda looks at me sideways. “Oh, lord, you’re in so much trouble, girl. You’re still completely into him, aren’t you?”
I nod sadly.
“Okay, never mind,” she says with an energetic nod. “When I get there we’ll talk about it. Meanwhile, let’s decide what we’re wearing!”
An hour later, after scouring the design database, Laronda and I have our outfits planned.
The theme of the Yellow Dance is sunshine—as in, harvest sun, and warm golden sunlight of early autumn. We send our selections and our body measurement templates off to the 3D printer her
e at ICS-2, to be ready for pickup tomorrow after 3:15 PM from the Manufacturing Deck.
“I’ll pick up both of our outfits, and you can get dressed in my cabin when you get here,” I tell Laronda.
“Perfect! Now, what are we doing about makeup?” Laronda muses. “I don’t have that much here at all, just some crummy old lipstick from the last time I went to the Walden Galleria in Buffalo, New York, and also some nail polish and that’s about it. Hey, maybe you can ask your Consul Denu again if he can hook us up with some of his amazing stuff?”
Yes, Laronda has heard all about my Red Dance Cinderella dress-up adventure, and I think she now wants in on that action.
“Hmm, I don’t know,” I say. “I’ll ask, but not sure what the Consul will say.”
“Hopefully he’ll say ‘yes’ and send his personal assistant Kem to do our hair and makeup! Though, I tell you, that boy can do my face, but there’s no way in hell he’s touching this sistah’s hair! Girl, I don’t trust alien hair care products—”
I giggle, and then we blab some more, until Laronda’s barracks curfew kicks in. Afterwards, I send a polite email to Consul Denu, attaching the outfit template files for his reference.
The next day, I arrive at the CCO before 8:00 AM and Gennio and Anu are there early.
“With the CP’s permission, we’re helping Pilot Oalla Keigeri with the Zero-G Dance setup tomorrow,” Gennio tells me. “Vazara and I will be doing the sound station tech once again.”
“Oh, that’s great!” I say cheerfully. “Will she be the Music Mage again?”
“Oh yes, she’s the most popular one, and is certainly the best,” Gennio says. “Pilot Keigeri requested her specifically.”
Anu meanwhile gives me a sneaky sideways look. “So, Gwen, are you going with Xelio again?”
I glance at him and raise one eyebrow. “No, I’m not, and it’s not really any of your business.”
“Oh, yeah?” Anu makes his usual rude horsey laugh. “Hey, did Xelio drop you or something? How come? You broke up? He got sick of you, Earth girl?”
And Anu follows up by making awful kissy sucking noises against his arm.
In that awkward moment, again, Command Pilot Kassiopei has apparently walked in the door and now stands behind us. Did he hear Anu’s loud stupidity yet again, just as it happened before the previous dance?
I have the feeling he did.
Oh, dear lord. . . .
But this time Aeson Kassiopei says nothing. He does not acknowledge if he heard us, and simply makes his way to his desk. At one point he throws one cool fleeting glance at me, and quickly turns away.
I feel the usual flush in my cheeks and keep my eyes averted, and get back to my work. And later that morning, I obtain his permission to have Laronda Aimes visit this ship for the Yellow Dance, in addition to my sister.
“Since you’re part of the Yellow Quadrant, you are excused from your duties tomorrow, and have my permission to assist with the setup and other aspects of the Yellow Dance,” Kassiopei tells me.
“Thank you, Command Pilot,” I say, then gather courage to ask: “I suppose you will not attend the Dance?”
He looks into my eyes with his composed, veiled gaze. “Very briefly,” he says.
And that’s that.
The morning of the Yellow Zero-G Dance has the usual buzz of excitement. Everyone around the Fleet is looking at this as the final opportunity to relax and have carefree fun one last time before the scary unknown of the following week—our arrival in Atlantis.
Maybe that’s why there’s so much energy in the air.
I go to Shuttle Bay Two to meet Laronda’s shuttle. It arrives just on time, at 8:00 AM, and moments later the ladder comes down and out comes the familiar slim brown-skinned girl with the sassy relaxed bob hairdo, wearing her ordinary grey uniform and a big grin.
“Gwen!”
“Laronda!”
We both scream a little, and hug. Laronda looks like she’s bulked up just a little, since the last time I saw her in person, which was months ago. Her skinny arms have more muscle definition, and she looks confident as always.
“Okay, let’s go see if Gracie is here yet, and then we can get some late breakfast!”
Laronda and I chatter and laugh non-stop as we head for a different shuttle bay on the other side of the ship, where Gracie’s supposed to be coming in.
“I’m sure Blayne will be there to get her,” I say, as we pass through various ship decks and corridors. “But I just want to make sure she’s okay too.”
“Hey, you don’t need to explain to me.” Laronda punches me on the arm. “Let’s go get your little troublemaker. I haven’t seen her for nearly a year!”
“She’s not so little anymore.” I smile, biting my lip. “Thirteen and growing faster than I can deal with. . . .”
We get to Shuttle Bay One just to see Blayne and Gracie heading toward us and the exit. Blayne is hovering nearly upright on his board, and laughing easily at something Gracie just said. He appears bemused and very relaxed as he looks at her, and I notice his hair is out of his eyes, as he must have sleeked it back, revealing his blue eyes and his very nice looking face and forehead. He’s not wearing his white Cadet dress uniform yet—I suppose he’ll change later.
Gracie meanwhile is already in her dressy whites, wearing the Cadet uniform sharply. She also has very subtle, very grown up makeup on, and she is looking at Blayne constantly.
It occurs to me, Laronda and I could’ve just borrowed Gracie’s cosmetics for this Dance. But then we wouldn’t have the amazing Atlantean Face Paints and Kem’s services.
Because, yeah—did I mention Consul Denu said yes, and he’s sending Kem over again tonight? He is!
In moments they see us and there are more squeals and hugs, as Gracie and I, and then Gracie and Laronda, squeeze each other. And then Blayne gets a big hug from Laronda too, which makes him a little awkward, but he gets over it in moments.
We all head to breakfast together, and the day is looking good so far.
Later, around 11:00 AM, I get away from everyone briefly to go check up on the situation in the Resonance Chamber to see if I’m needed. Gennio is there, and I help out for about an hour with acoustic wall panel tests.
Then I come back and spend the rest of the afternoon with my friends and my sister.
“How is Gordie doing? I know he stubbornly refused to go to the Zero-G Dance here on ICS-2,” I ask at some point, and Gracie just smiles.
“Oh, Gee Three’s totally fine. He just prefers to go to the Dance on our own ship. I think he has a crush on a girl there!”
My mouth falls open. “Our Gee Three likes a girl? Noooo! Tell me more about this miracle!”
Gracie shrugs. “It’s no big deal, really. She’s just someone who works with him in Hydroponics, and I don’t think he asked her out or anything. He just likes her from afar, you know. Like, from around trees. His notebook is filled with sketches of her and plants—that’s the only reason I know.”
I smile. “Aha! Well, that explains his insistence on staying on his own ship all the time. Poor Gee Three, the boy is growing up!”
Gracie rolls her eyes.
Laronda looks at both of us with a bemused little smile.
It occurs to me, Laronda misses her own little brother Jamil, her own family. . . .
And I force myself to remember that in many ways, having two of my siblings here in the Fleet, I am very lucky.
After dinner, it’s time to get ready for the Yellow Dance, which begins at 7:00 PM.
Blayne briefly escapes our overpowering girl cooties and returns to his own barracks to get changed.
Meanwhile my tiny cabin turns into an overcrowded zoo, as Laronda, Gracie and I become disgustingly girly. Laronda and I take turns to use my shower, while Gracie remains in her Cadet parade uniform and fusses with her hair and makeup from her own cosmetics bag.
Laronda’s and my outfits are still in their plastic packaging, lying on my bunk next to Gracie’
s makeup.
As soon as we are out of the shower and our hair is sufficiently dry, we start putting our dresses on.
Oh, wow. . . . They are both simply stunning.
Laronda puts on a slinky evening dress of flowing metallic gold, with a fitted sleeveless top that shows off her lovely neck and has a V-line plunging collar and slim waist, and below, a flaring princess skirt made of some kind of ethereal fabric in several pyramid layers. The fabric billows like a cloud around her feet, all the way down to her ankles, and her shoes are slim gold pumps with three-inch stiletto heels.
“Oh my lord, you are gorgeous!” I exclaim. “And the shoes! Can you actually walk on those heels?”
Laronda sticks out one foot before the other, and does an easy pirouette. “Two years of ballet lessons!” she mutters with a wink.
“Oh, wow! I didn’t know you studied ballet!” I say, extremely impressed.
“Oh, yeah,” Laronda says. “Was taking ballet for a while until Auntie Janice got her work hours cut, and couldn’t afford to pay for more lessons.”
And then I take out my own dress and put it on.
This time around, my dress is completely different from the seductive blood-red dress I wore to the Red Dance. Basically, I’ve given up on seduction, and embraced my simple side.
It is long and flowing, translucent pale gold. . . . It has a gently plunging round neckline and short sleeves, and a skirt that transitions from loosely-conforming at the waist to full at the bottom. The effect is very gradual and ethereal, a little like Laronda’s skirt, except my entire dress is like that. And it’s not puffy but gently cascading down. If I turn, it billows like a golden bell around me, but not just the skirt—the whole thing.
This dress makes me look innocent and dreamy, as if I’m some kind of airy nymph at a harvest festival. All I need is flowers in my hair and I could be running through fields of wheat.
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