by RF Hurteau
“Maybe they didn’t know we were here, like we didn’t know they were out there.”
“Maybe not before,” said Edwin, still frowning. “Listen, there are things…things you don’t know. But maybe it’s time you did. Just keep this under wraps for now. We can’t be certain who they are or what their intentions are. And I don’t want you or your team causing a panic among the population before we know more. People are nearly starving in here. If they knew, if they knew there are survivors outside…”
Nelson was nodding, looking slightly perturbed. “Yeah, okay. I get it. We don’t want to add to the chaos before we know if we’re dealing with friend or foe. But what is it you’re not telling me?”
“Later,” Edwin said firmly. “And thanks for understanding.”
“What about the other department heads? Can they know?”
Edwin thought about this for a while, then nodded. “I trust them,” he said. “We’ll discuss everything at the meeting. Until then, don’t tell anyone else. And I want one of your team monitoring this thing at all times. Got it?”
Nelson and Meagan both nodded.
“Good,” Edwin turned, mind racing. Edwin had always intended to tell Nelson about the crash site in D6. He’d intended to tell a lot of people about it. But as time went on, it just never felt like the right time. Now, suddenly, the truth had found a way to get around Edwin’s hesitancy. He needed to keep this situation under control.
Things had just gotten a lot more complicated.
three
A Shot in the Dark
Despite the grief the Ministry had caused him, Felix had to give them credit for one thing—the city of Atmos was an amazing example of ingenuity. There was a strange beauty in the no-frills approach to architecture and design. Towering skyscrapers that had once been home to giant corporations had become docking stations for aircraft in endless sizes and configurations. Some, like Ambrose’s Pluto, were jet-propelled with steam engines, resembling rockets. Some had propellers, more like the airplanes Felix had seen in history books. Some had open cockpits made for one or two people, and some were massive—giant dirigibles dotting the sky like so many ships in a harbor.
Factories lined the well-maintained streets of the city, huge smokestacks puffing black clouds into the air, pipes coming up out of the ground and disappearing through walls in thick, intertwined clusters reminiscent of ivy. Everywhere he looked, posters were plastered to the sides of the brick buildings. Vendors shouted to passersby about their wares, and young boys in khaki breeches and suspenders stood on street corners, broadcasting headlines and waving newspapers. The city was alive and thriving; a city built on dreams of life among the clouds.
At Wilks’ insistence, Felix and Willow had joined him in his ship for the short journey. Though still loud, it was quieter than Pluto, and the ride was smooth and surprisingly pleasant. There were four seats, including the captain’s chair, all lined with rich green velvet. It sported a retractable glass windshield, and a large, comfortable hold, complete with four small bunks in a separate cabin at the back. It was much more refined than Ambrose’s homemade amalgamation of nuts and bolts. It seemed rather excessive, but excessive was exactly the type of thing Felix would expect a Minister to have.
Willow held Felix’s hand as they disembarked. He was glad they had chosen to come with Wilks, since his position afforded him a dock very close to the Ministry building itself. Less walking meant less opportunity for people to stare and whisper.
Thoris excused himself as they entered. The Ministry building always struck Felix as rather foreboding. Not enough windows meant that the interior was dim and somewhat depressing. Dark wood paneling covered the walls, unwelcoming, and the mosaic tile floors were cold. The building was undoubtedly very old, as many tiles were missing, drawing the eye away from the original intent of the artist and instead to the flaws that now dotted the scene. Felix and Willow were ushered into a large audience chamber where they both stood as the committee members filed in. Thoris trailed in last, still fiddling with the buttons on his formal robes. The committee sat at a long table on the raised dais at the head of the room. The committee head, a sour-looking woman with pursed lips and long bright red fingernails named Margo Benton, motioned for them to be seated as well. Two unadorned wooden chairs sat behind a low railing. The luster had gone from the armrests, where Felix imagined countless people before them had gripped tightly while awaiting the Ministry’s pronouncement of their fate.
“Thank you for joining us here today,” she said, without sounding at all thankful. “Although the purpose of this meeting was originally to discuss your future here in Pravacordia, urgent intelligence has been brought to our attention that requires immediate action.” Several of the committee members were nodding somberly, but Thoris looked genuinely confused.
“I was not made aware of any change in today’s proceedings.”
Benton’s voice was thick with annoyance, as she addressed him without looking in his direction. “We called an emergency meeting this morning, committee member Wilks, but were unable to reach you.” Thoris sputtered indignantly, but the woman had already begun speaking to Felix and Willow once more.
“As you are aware, the intelligence collected from the CP radio network which triggered Ambrose’s unauthorized venture clearly indicated that the Therans were leaving Earth via Antiquity’s Gate.”
Felix nodded, trying to appear as respectful and non-threatening as possible. “Painfully aware, your honor.”
“I am not a judge, Mr. Felix.”
“Forgive me, your Eminence.”
She sighed and went on. “Although we had hoped that, after such a long time, the Elves were no longer a threat, the transmissions did suggest that we may be dealing with them again. The Culei have assured us that communications from the Gate have gone dark, and we have been working, without success, on a way to disable the Gate all together.”
“Can’t you just bury it?” Felix blurted out, then added, “uh, your ladyship?”
“Although that is possible in theory, we do not have the means. It was sheer luck that Ambrose’s mission was a success. Prior attempts to reach that region have failed.”
“But maybe—”
She raised her hand to stop him. “As much as I would value your input on this matter,” she said, not sounding as if she would find much value in his input at all, “we have the situation well in hand. As such, we really must get to the point of today’s meeting.”
Felix and Willow exchanged glances.
“The Culeians control the radio towers at sea, so we have been relying on them to relay any information they have to us. However, our sources within Culei—”
“Like spies?” said Felix, perking up a bit.
“Our sources,” Benton repeated, “have informed us that the Culeians have been attempting to make contact with the Elves and that, just this week, they received a response.”
Thoris gawked. Felix felt rage bubbling up inside of him, but he forced it back down. He had to keep it together. He was trying to show these people that he wasn’t a threat. “Why,” he said slowly, carefully, “would they want to contact the Elves?”
“Culei has long been resentful of Pravacordia. Despite our treaty, we have never once believed that our nations were friends. But it’s been said that one should keep their friends close, and their enemies closer. Culei is attempting to form an alliance with the Therans, so that when they come through again, the Culeians will have nothing to fear and will have the opportunity to become the dominant Human power on the planet.”
Felix rocked back in his chair, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the railing before him. “Wow,” he said at last.
Ms. Benton raised an eyebrow. “An astute observation, to be sure.”
“Well, what I mean is, just—wow. Haven’t the Humans learned from what happened last time they tried to play nice with Thera?” He paused, then hastily added, “Present company excluded, of course.”
She nodded. “Apparently the Culeians have a short memory. Either that, or their hunger for power is stronger than their fear of destruction.”
“They must know that the Elves will never agree to an alliance.”
“On the contrary—the Elves have already agreed to host a representative from Culei in Thera, their own home, to discuss terms.”
Felix whistled softly.
Willow leaned forward. “Why are you telling us all of this? Where do we come in?”
The woman eyed Willow, looking her up and down with a slight frown. “Given that you have recently given birth, and because we do not wish to put the life of a new mother at risk, you do not really come in at all. It is Felix we’re interested in. You’ll stay behind.”
Felix felt his stomach knot up with a mix of fear and excitement. “If she’s staying, then that means I’m going somewhere.”
The committee leader nodded again. “If you complete this mission to our satisfaction, you will be granted full amnesty here in Pravacordia. Your family will be a welcome, productive part of our community, and you will be given your own home as well as a generous stipend.”
“And what’s the mission?”
“Given your appearance, you alone have the ability to blend in on Thera without attracting unwanted attention. Therefore, the Ministry has decided that you are to go through Antiquity’s Gate and do whatever is necessary to sabotage the alliance talks.”
A smile crept over Felix’s face. “I’m going to be a spy,” he said softly.
* * *
The actual mission briefing had been, to Felix’s growing dismay, somewhat vague. The Ministry had decided that, since his was the only ship to have ever managed the trip, Ambrose would be flying Felix to the Gate. Ambrose, in turn, had insisted that Penelope and Tobias accompany them. Explaining that they’d recently had several ideas to improve the engine’s performance in extreme weather conditions, he’d said that most of their plans could be completed on the way. The rest could be done while they waited for Felix to return. According to the Ministry, Felix would be dropped at the Gate where he would proceed—with stealth—to Thera, and that was where the details became rather questionable. Prior to the Sequencing, several Human representatives had been through the Gate and come back to describe a gleaming city known as Imradia about a day’s walk away. But many of the specifics had been lost during and after the plague. Felix would have been more than happy to provide details, to prove he was a team player, but the Therans in Sanctuary had jealously guarded information pertaining to their home world.
Felix was instructed to wait for the Culeian party to come through and follow them and their Theran hosts—without being caught. It seemed a tall order, even if he’d had training in such things. Unfortunately, being the only available “Elf” in Pravacordia made him uniquely qualified for the job.
They had been given a day to prepare and had been surprised the next morning when they entered the workshop. Thoris Wilks was once again standing inside, this time sporting a lively green vest and a bowler cap.
“The Ministry has decided that it would be in their best interests to have one of their own along. Seeing as we’ve something of a rapport, I was happy to volunteer!”
Felix rolled his eyes, but said nothing. Instead, he turned to Willow, who was watching their preparations with a look of quiet sadness. He embraced her, her petite frame fitting perfectly in his arms. He bent his head down to rest it on the top of her head, her hair silky smooth beneath his cheek. He breathed in her scent, dreading leaving her behind. It was a long time before he let go. “If we don’t come back—” he began.
“You’ll come back,” she replied, sounding more confident than Felix felt.
He bent down to where the twins lay, snug and completely oblivious to the situation in an oversized wooden crate lined with a faded quilt. Felix smiled, remembering how Penelope had set this up in the workshop for them. She’d said that Sebastian had always loved being around the noise and ships and had played in this makeshift playpen for long hours. The twins were still too young to try to wander around the workshop, trying to play with wrenches or eat random bits and bobs, but they did seem to enjoy lying out here among the hustle and bustle. Ripley was sucking on his own toes, and Felicity, who was clearly above trying to eat her own feet, was attempting with wild, uncoordinated swings to grasp Ripley’s other foot for herself. Felix scooped both of them up, planting kisses on their foreheads and snuffling their bellies with his nose. He was rewarded with the sweet sounds of baby giggles.
“Flix?” There was a tugging at his leg, and Felix looked down to see Sebastian, his face a mask of worry. He put the twins back down and knelt so that he was level with the toddler.
“Hey, little man,” he said.
Sebastian pursed his lips. “You go, now?” he asked.
Felix nodded. “That’s right. I’m going on a secret mission! But I’m going to come back as soon as I can, okay?”
Sebastian looked down at his feet, scuffing his toe back and forth on the concrete floor. “Mommy go too,” he informed Felix miserably.
“I tell you what,” said Felix. “Let’s make a deal.” Sebastian perked up slightly, waiting to hear the details. “I’ll take care of your mommy on our mission, so you don’t need to worry about her. And while I’m gone, will you take care of Willow and the babies?”
Sebastian’s eyes grew round as he looked from Felix, to Willow, to the twins cooing in the crate. “Flix babies? Miss Flix?” he whispered, and then he began nodding vigorously. His face went from sadness to determination. “Okay!” he said firmly. Felix reached out, and Sebastian stuck out his pudgy fist to shake on it.
“Good man,” said Felix, standing back up.
“Good man!” agreed Sebastian, marching to the side of the crate, where he placed a protective hand on the highest slat he could reach, and glanced around suspiciously, as though an enemy might pop out from behind one of the ships or machines at any moment.
“I leave you in good hands,” Felix said to Willow, smiling.
She returned his smile, but it did not reach her eyes. “Please be careful,” she implored.
“I will,” he promised.
“We’re all set over here!” Tobias hollered. Felix turned to face Pluto, and he threw one more glance over his shoulder at his wife.
“I love you,” he said. Then he disappeared into Pluto’s hold.
Pluto had no seats except for the pilot and co-pilot, and those were occupied by Ambrose and Penelope. Thoris squatted with as much dignity as he could muster, afraid to soil his trousers on the somewhat neglected floor of the cabin, looking decidedly less happy about his spontaneous decision. Tobias bustled back and forth, fussing with gauges and adjusting pressure valves, often causing Thoris to teeter dangerously in a somewhat humorous attempt to keep his balance. Felix had no such concerns about his garments and sat on the floor, leaning against a stack of supply crates that had been secured to the wall with nets to prevent them toppling during acceleration. The ship rumbled to life, and Felix stared out the window, watching the workshop disappear beneath them.
He fiddled with the fringed hem of the robe Willow had made for him. It was soft, an earthy brown, styled in a traditional Theran fashion. They’d hoped it would help him blend in. “There aren’t any Halfsies on Thera, so no one will be thinking to look for you,” she’d said, her voice slightly anxious. “You have very Theran features. I’m certain no one will notice you.”
Felix had laughed. “You don’t sound very certain.”
Willow had spent the last day coaching him on Theran etiquette, traditions, and gestures. It wasn’t too hard, as Felix had seen most of these things firsthand growing up in Sanctuary. However, Willow was privy to a more intimate knowledge of Theran culture, having grown up in a strict and traditional Theran home.
“Avoid eye contact,” she’d insisted. “In Sanctuary, my father always complained about how they’d lost so many Theran customs. He always made certai
n to enforce them, if only in his own house. He said on Thera, eye contact showed that you viewed someone as an equal. It’s important to show respect by acknowledging your betters. Oh! And Therans aren’t generally comfortable with unnecessary touching. They don’t have any physical greetings, like hugs or handshakes. A slight bow is a much better choice.”
Felix wasn’t certain how much actual interaction he’d be having with Elves, but he did his best to commit her lessons to memory all the same. The odds of Felix pulling this off were stacked against him and they both knew it. He would take whatever help he could get.
“If you can’t find a way to sabotage the talks, just get out of there,” she’d admonished. “Please, I don’t care what the Ministry does to us. I couldn’t bear to live without you. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Felix hesitated, and Willow pressed. “Promise me!” she pleaded.
“Of course,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t thinking about that. It’s just—” he sighed. “I can’t help thinking about Ripley. We’re going back there, and all I can think about is the least we can do is find his body. Take him here, bury him. He would have loved it here. So many machines to tinker with.” He paused for a long time. “He deserved better,” he said at last.
“You’ll find him,” Willow said, her eyes moist with tears. “Find him and bring him home.”
Felix forced himself back to the present. He shifted his body, glancing toward the cockpit. Each time that Penelope turned to speak to Ambrose, her eyes glinted. Felix knew how hard it was for her to leave Sebastian. But she knew that Willow would take good care of him. She knew that this mission was important.
Felix tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He felt strangely at peace. He had no plans to die on Thera. He had too much to live for.
* * *
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Thoris, as a patch of turbulence sent him toppling over, his hat rolling several feet away before coming to rest under Ambrose’s chair. Up until they’d reached the open ocean, the flight had been reasonably smooth. If Felix had not been so preoccupied with thoughts of Willow and worries about the mission, he would have actually enjoyed the trip. They had passed over a number of incredible landscapes, from sprawling cities like Atmos to long stretches of quiet farmland. They’d passed over snowcapped mountains and a lush jungle with a canopy of trees so thick that he could not make out the ground. But now, above the sea, Ambrose had brought the little ship higher, into the clouds, to mask it from any potential Culeian vessels. All Felix could see outside the windows were whisps of white.