The Clouded Sky

by Megan Crewe

  Isis nods slowly. “I can’t get you into everything—certain sections of their private network have locks even Britta can’t break—but we could key you into some. The question is how . . . I think I could bring a portable terminal for you to work with temporarily, to make sure the activity isn’t traced here if it’s noticed.”

  “Great!” I pause. “But could you . . . not mention this to Thlo. I think she’s been disappointed by how little information I’ve uncovered so far. I’d rather not have her expecting anything.” And I’m not totally sure she won’t shut me down before I even try. As Dad would have said, Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

  “I’m sure she’s not disappointed,” Isis says. “She just has a lot on her mind. But I don’t see any reason to bother her with this. There, finished.”

  She gives the computer terminal the mirror command. I turn toward it, staring into the face that hardly seems like my own. Hair chopped and darkened, skin tanned, freckles erased. Eyebrows curved with a sharper arc. I make myself smile, watching the muscles around my lips tighten. My mouth still looks the same. I still have that little bump partway down my nose. My eyes are the same shade of brown. Or are they different too—clouded by all the things I’ve seen and learned in the last few weeks?

  I’m not sure my parents would recognize me. My friends either. My throat clenches up again. But I already wasn’t the same girl they knew, after my journey with Win. I had enough secrets then to build a ten-foot wall between us. Now I’m just carrying more. Which means it’s never going to be the same. Even if I make it back to that life, it’ll never really be the life I would have had.

  I look away, trying to hide the pain Isis might assume is unhappiness with her work. I can’t let those thoughts get to me. However I’ve changed, I still care just as much about the people I left behind. I took this leap to protect them from the Kemyates’ meddling and the damage that comes with it, to free everyone on Earth, and I’m going to follow all the way through.

  “We just need that last bit of kolzo, and then Thlo’ll agree to us leaving?” I check.

  “That’s right,” Isis says. “We have a ship ready now. And we’ve even finalized the details for our new planet, the one Thlo will use in her proposal when we return. So everything is in place. We just need another chance to get that fuel.”

  Another chance without the traitor getting in our way.

  19.

  Isis drops off a tablet the next morning, and I spend most of the day combing through the Earth Travel division’s private network. None of the names in the employee directory jumps out. I come across a collection of what appear to be submissions from the general public: suggestions of possible shifts, demands for more of one type of media or another. It’s reassuring to see some Kemyates speaking up against changing Earth’s recent history. It sounds as though many Earthlings would die if this happened. Is there a safer way to test the theory? And, Similar shifts have been made in the past ten years. I don’t think the data from one more would be worth the negative effects on the planet.

  So there are people Thlo and the others can appeal to for support once the time field is down.

  Much less comforting are the information requests from the Security division I find. Several of the recent ones contain Kurra’s name. It seems she’s interviewing all the employees at Earth Travel now—given the disruptions Win and I caused on Earth, I guess it’s easy to deduce that someone with access to Traveler tech must have helped.

  Silmeru turns up all through the network, which isn’t surprising given that she runs the division. Nothing I dig up strikes me as particularly meaningful, though—no regular associations with one particular employee, no sudden decision changes. Then, as I glance over the schedules and room bookings for the next few weeks, one slot catches my eye. There’s an hour late every evening when little work is usually scheduled, because a maintenance crew comes through. But four days from now, one of the meeting rooms is reserved in the middle of that hour. While most of the reservations include a list of participants, this one has only one name on record: Silmeru.

  Who would she be meeting with that she’d keep secret—and at such an odd time? I have to find out. If it’s to do with her source, I need to be there, one way or another, to hear what they say for myself. Something they mention will make the pieces click, I’m sure of it.

  Which means I need help from someone with access inside.

  I’m certainly not going to ask Pavel. I can already hear Thlo shooting me down—even though her methods still haven’t gotten us the answer. And Jule . . . I bite my lip, remembering our discussion about the Earthling zoo. He might insist on looking into it on his own, without me. But what if something comes up that only I’d catch the significance of? I can’t go on letting other people take all the risks for me.

  So that leaves Win. Win, who was willing to break the Traveler rules on Earth when he realized I could help him. Win, who was the only one who questioned our plans after what happened to Britta. We accomplished so much before, just the two of us. It almost feels meant to be.

  Isis told me she’d embedded a coded channel in the tablet’s interface so I could contact her in case of emergency. I write as brief an explanation as I can, lock it the way she taught me, and insert it into a message to Isis beseeching her to pass it on to Win for me, which I lock as well. The response she sends is even briefer: OK. I won’t know if Win’s agreed until I get there.

  I plan to tell Jule I want to visit Britta and then change the destination once he’s put me on the inner-shuttle, but before I have to, he mentions he’s meeting up with his friends that night. “They’re starting to ask too many questions about how I’m spending my time,” he says apologetically.

  “That’s all right,” I say, awkward about the lie I no longer have to tell. “I get it.”

  So I walk, down a couple levels and on from the residential sectors into the business and industrial rings closer to the station’s core. When I finally come up on the entrance to the Earth Travel division and the tiny holographic globe hovering over its door, my mouth is dry and my pulse skittering. Win isn’t there.

  I slow down, dawdling on my way to the entrance. A few employees amble out and stride off in the opposite direction, having finished for the day, I assume. The division should be pretty much empty for the maintenance hour. The meeting I want to catch starts in fifteen minutes.

  I wander to a curve in the hallway, check to make sure no one’s watching, and then turn around and casually amble back. I’ve just passed the entrance again when Win emerges from the shuttle stop alcove. Relief washes over me, as quickly as his face lights up in anticipation, seeing me.

  How did I let myself think I didn’t know him? This is exactly the guy I ran around Earth with, risking the Enforcers’ blasters and Thlo’s anger to follow Jeanant’s trail.

  He glances around and presses his thumb to a panel by the entrance. We slip down the hall on the other side silently. The hum of tech tells me someone is still working behind one of the doors that line its walls. Win opens another, farther down, and motions me in.

  We’re alone in the room, which holds a large table lined with stools and a screen on one wall. “This is the one Silmeru booked,” Win says, his voice low but eager. He pats the pouch at his waist. “I borrowed some monitoring tech from the equipment area this afternoon. I just need to plant it, and then we can watch and listen from one of the consoles next door.”

  “Perfect,” I say, my heart lifting.

  “You don’t have to be here, you know,” he says as he studies the walls. “If there’s anything specific you’re watching for, you can just tell me. There’s no reason you should be in danger too.”

  “There is,” I say. “I don’t understand everything I overheard her talking about before. I might be able to make connections, from what they say or do, that I couldn’t tell you about ahead of time.”

  I tense for an argument, but Win just nods. “I can’t compete with y
our eye for detail,” he says. “It got us awfully far back on Earth.”

  That’s why I needed him for this. He’s the only one who’s seen just how much I can contribute. Maybe the only one who has a chance of comprehending how much this mission means to me too.

  That thought mingles with the memory of my argument with Jule. “I came across the Earth Studies ‘zoo’ the other day,” I find myself saying as Win approaches the far wall.

  He glances back at me. “Are you all right?”

  “I was pretty upset. I’m still upset. I just— There’s nothing we can do, right?”

  “I hate that place.” He drops his gaze. “That’s been the hardest thing, being back. Before, I felt bad for them, I had the idea it wasn’t right, but now, every time I hear people talk about the exhibits, the pets—all those people just like you, and everyone sees them as . . .” He trails off with a rough sound.

  “Yeah,” I say quietly.

  He pulls out a strip of flexible material from his pouch. “I wish there was something we could do for them,” he adds. “I wish we were doing more, full stop.”

  “There’s only so much, with the Enforcers watching, and now this traitor . . .”

  “I know,” he says. “I know we have to be careful. I know the others think I don’t care enough about the risks. Sometimes I feel they’re right, that I’m too . . . impatient, or careless.” He hesitates. “Then sometimes I wonder if it isn’t the other way around. You said even Jeanant, at the end, got too caught up in being careful. Maybe I’m not impatient enough. Maybe I could be fighting so much harder for us, for Earth . . . for you, and I can’t see it because I’ve lived in this place so long.”

  He shoots me a slanted little smile that sends an ache through my chest. I open my mouth, but suddenly I’m afraid that if I try to speak, tears will come out instead. I swallow hard, and manage, “You’re here right now. That matters.”

  “Let’s hope so,” he says, with a breeziness that sounds as if he’s trying to brush aside how serious he sounded a moment ago. It must have been hard for him to admit that much. It suddenly occurs to me that as much as he’s the only person here I think has any hope of understanding how I feel about Earth, I may be one of the few people he’s ever been able to share his true feelings with. How much has Win needed me?

  As he presses the monitoring strip to the wall, I peek past a door in the corner. A light blinks on as I lean in, revealing a storage closet with built-in shelves stacked with time cloths, rolled tablets, and other devices.

  “Done,” Win says, and I step back out. The strip, which looked gray in his hands, has blended into the beige wall so seamlessly I can hardly see it even from a few feet away. Anyone sitting at the table shouldn’t notice it at all. There’s a black speck in the middle, but that can pass for a tiny dent or a fleck of dirt.

  “We’ll be able to adjust the angle with the console,” Win’s saying, motioning me toward the outer door so we can go to the next room, when a tiny ping sounds. He flinches, stifling a curse. Before I have time to think, he’s hauling me into the closet. My shoulder jars against one of the shelves.

  “What—” I start to ask, and he claps his hand over my mouth.

  “Sorry,” he whispers. “They’ll hear. They showed up early—the meeting room doors give a warning when someone’s about to come in, so if a session is in progress and the intrusion’s unwanted, the people inside can signal that without being more overtly interrupted. But if we’d done that, whoever’s out there would know someone’s in here who isn’t supposed to be.”

  A faint warble of voices penetrates the closet door. Nothing I can make out. Win eases back, dropping his hand.

  “So much for monitoring,” I murmur, unable to suppress my disappointment. We’re stuck in practically the same room as Silmeru and we have no idea what she’s doing out there.

  “Maybe not. Let’s see if we can work with what we have.” Win peers at the shelves. He takes one of the tablets, turns it on, flicks through it, and must find it doesn’t meet his requirements, because he puts that one back and reaches for the next.

  “You don’t think they’ll need something in here, do you?” I ask with a chill. Win could have come up with an excuse for us being in a regular workroom, but hiding in the closet?

  “If they do, I’ll find a way to explain it,” Win says, but his voice is tight. “They only booked for half an hour, so whatever they’re doing, it shouldn’t be anything too involved.”

  I shift my weight from foot to foot, not sure which I want more: for the meeting to be over so we can escape, or for them to delay so we won’t miss anything important before Win finds a tablet that’ll access the monitor. The warbling outside has fallen into a steady back and forth.

  Win shuffles through several more tablets, his movements increasingly urgent. “Ah!” he says finally. “This one should have the programming to wake up at least some of the functions . . . Here we go.” He steps next to me, holding out the tablet so I can watch too. His other hand rests on my back the way he used to steady me during the jumps in his time cloth, so briefly I’m not sure he even realizes he’s done it. I remember Jule, the other day at Britta’s, snapping when Win reached out to comfort me. But Jule didn’t see the way Win recoiled from me in the ship’s lab, that moment I thought he might kiss me.

  No embarrassment comes with the memory this time. I’m just glad that even if my fleeting romantic inclinations were dashed, I can still count on Win in the ways that matter most.

  The monitor’s view shows only half the table and three people sitting there, though I can make out the tops of a couple more heads at the bottom of the screen. My breath sticks in my throat. Silmeru’s poised at the head of the table. At her left is Thlo.

  “What’s Thlo doing here?” I say as Win pokes at the tablet. I don’t recognize the only other person whose face I can see, the man at Silmeru’s right.

  “This must have something to do with council business,” Win says. “Although, that guy . . . I don’t think he’s with Earth Travel. He doesn’t look familiar.” He grimaces. “I can set this to receive footage but not to control the monitor. I think this is as good as we’re going to get.”

  His fingers patter across the slick surface once more, and voices trickle out. He sets the volume just loud enough for us to hear.

  “. . . at the diagrams, you’ll see exactly what I’m proposing,” Thlo is saying. “It would be quick and efficient.”

  The other people are eyeing something on small displays floating above the table, but from our angle I can’t identify anything but a mess of lines.

  “And extreme,” someone out of view says. “What makes you believe this is necessary, Ibtep?”

  Ibtep. The last name I saw flash on my screen when Thlo came to talk to me on the ship—her real name.

  “I’m only recommending this measure in the case of an extreme scenario,” Thlo says. “Of course we will do everything in our power to stop these people. But you have to recognize what the consequences might be if they succeed. Many of the . . . we’ve encouraged may act against us. Most of the citizens are . . . in outcomes on Earth. We here may have agreed that if the time field were to go down, it would be time to evaluate other possibilities, but it will take much effort to divert the public’s attention.”

  The time field going down—by “these people” she means us. Her. I raise my eyebrows at Win. We already knew Thlo had to pretend to be against the rebels with her colleagues. It sounds as if she’s already convinced them that the best course of action if we succeed is moving on. What is she trying to arrange now? Is this going to help us get the kolzo?

  “It would be important that we keep clear authority,” Silmeru says, though she’s frowning.

  “It won’t happen,” says another voice from offscreen. “We’re getting direct information about their plans. Soon we’ll stop them completely.”

  “That’s likely,” says the man at Silmeru’s right. “But we should be prepared fo
r every possibility. It’s true in a case like this, people may focus on Earth rather than our needs. They may even want to . . . there. But I’m not sure this is the right approach.”

  “As I said before,” Silmeru puts in, “my source hasn’t been able to . . . any details about the one who has given him information, which makes it impossible to push for more. We don’t have full control over the situation.”

  Yes, her source. I bend closer. It seems she’s still keeping his name a secret.

  “And if the worst happens,” Thlo says, picking up the thread, “this would be the perfect way to set Kemya to rights. By setting a new course with the same process that . . . us here.”

  There’s a murmur around the table as if they appreciate the analogy I didn’t fully follow.

  “Do you know what she’s talking about?” I whisper to Win.

  “They’re concerned that they’ve encouraged people to focus on Earth so much, that if the time field goes down, a lot of Kemyates will be unwilling to reconsider what’s actually best for Kemya. That they might even push to join the Earthlings and settle there rather than somewhere unfamiliar. But I don’t know what ‘process’ Thlo means. If we could see that diagram . . .”

  Only we can’t. Something about the way she’s talking, the way the others are responding, makes me uneasy. My nerves quiver in a way that uncomfortably echoes the wrong feelings that used to affect me. But maybe the intensity of the conversation is just because these people have relied on Earth as a way to hold onto power for so long.

  “If it came to this, you could move the construction and transport along quickly?” Silmeru says to the man beside her, who inclines his head.

  “And you could help present the idea to the mayor and the rest of the Council,” Thlo suggests to someone we can’t see.

  “If I agree that this is necessary,” that person replies dryly.

  “We will all consider it,” Silmeru says to Thlo. “Let us keep the proposal between us until we are at the point where we must make a final decision.”