Ashfall Legacy

by Pittacus Lore

  “Yes. Bummer.”

  Aela nodded once, almost like they were steeling themselves, and then took long strides across the street. I went with them, noticing how the Denzans in line watched Aela approach, many of them with tears in their eyes.

  Through the front window, I could see that the narrow interior of Remembrance was divided into four curtained booths. When we arrived, only one of these booths was open, but that was quickly occupied by a wisp in a retro version of Aela’s exo-suit and one of the old Denzans from outside. It wasn’t the wisp I’d seen on the street yesterday—the cloud behind this one’s faceplate was tinted with silver instead of gold. The wisp saw us looking in and paused, their faceplate pointed at Aela. After a moment of stillness, the wisp left the booth’s curtain open so we could watch them work. They slipped a gas-mask-like apparatus over the mouth and nose of their Denzan client. The wisp then attached a hose to the Denzan’s mask and screwed the other end into a valve on their exo-suit. There was no great care here—none of the intense showering or chemical baths—the wisp simply connected the flimsy length of tubing and then flowed into the Denzan’s nostrils. The Denzan’s body slackened and relaxed as the wisp took control of his mind.

  “The contaminated here provide this service free of charge for the community,” Aela explained, their mechanical chipperness toned down for a change. “They allow visitors to relive important memories from their lives. While some of these wisps were contaminated by accident, others have chosen this life cycle, to maintain their individuality and remain forever separated from the Ossho Collective.”

  I took a step back from the window. I suddenly felt like I was spying on something extremely intimate. Aela joined me, and we walked aimlessly down the street. I looked over at my wisp friend, but obviously it was impossible to read the expression on a cloud. The fact that Aela had fallen into a rare silence was all I had to go on.

  “You okay?” I asked. “You seem . . . I don’t know. Sad?”

  “I don’t feel sadness like you, Syd,” Aela replied. “Before we detach from the Ossho Collective, every wisp is warned of the phenomenon that affects the contaminated. We don’t experience love or hate or lust or greed or fear or even happiness in the way that you organics do, driven in part by your body’s chemistry, acting because of impulses evolved over millennia. We can’t have those feelings naturally, but we can experience them through your minds and memories. We can become addicted to them, particularly during the time that we are individuals, separate from the collective. Some Ossho find the thrill of these feelings too great to give up.”

  Originally, I’d thought Aela had been doing me a favor by bringing me here to help look for the wisp that had spooked me. But now, I got the feeling that the wisp wanted someone to talk to, like they needed guidance as badly as I did.

  “Have you been thinking about that?” I asked. “Not going back?”

  “No, it’s selfish to keep our memories to ourselves,” Aela said quickly. “And besides, I have many years before I have to return.” The metal digits on Aela’s exo-suit fidgeted. “However, it does sometimes feel that to return to the collective, as fulfilling as it is to bask in the shared history of the universe—it feels like I could be depriving myself of experiencing the future. A future that I am extremely curious about. I feel, Syd, that something monumental is coming.”

  I tensed a bit at that. “Oh?”

  “I saw what happened to you, Syd,” Aela said. “I watched from the bridge. Unlike the others, I was not distracted by fear of my own mortality. I saw how the Etherazi enveloped you, released you, and sustained you until Reno could reach you.”

  I stopped in my tracks and stared at Aela, seeing only my own reflection in their faceplate. “Uh—it wasn’t exactly like that—”

  Aela held up their hand. “I understand your need for subterfuge, and I’m not offended by it. Your secrets are safe with me, Syd. I believe it’s possible that you are the only organism in existence to ever encounter an Etherazi like that and survive. I would very much like to share in that experience.”

  I took an uneasy step back. So that’s what this was all about. The Ossho valued experiences above all else, so getting into my brain would apparently be a huge prize for Aela.

  “It really wasn’t that big of a thing,” I lied, but could tell by the way that Aela cocked their head that the wisp didn’t buy it. I sighed. “I mean, it’s probably not a good idea, Aela . . .”

  Of course, my instinct was secrecy. My mom had drilled that into me from an early age. But carrying around the encounter with the Etherazi—the bizarre and frightening shit that Goldy said to me and showed me—had been haunting me ever since it happened. I’d decided to withhold the whole truth even from my uncle. With Aela, though—a neutral, chill presence, who didn’t judge and didn’t have a political agenda to advance—maybe it wouldn’t be so dangerous to share the experience with them. With all their accumulated knowledge, they might even catch something that I hadn’t.

  “I see from your expression that you are considering my proposal, and that’s all I ask,” Aela said, the brightness returning to their voice. “At the very least, I ask that you let me continue on as your crewmate, wherever you go next.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I mean, not that I have a choice in the matter, but, uh, sure, you can be my biographer, if you want.”

  Aela clapped, clearly delighted by the reply I’d meant to be self-deprecating. “Excellent! It is said that the Ossho Collective has an intuition regarding which cosmos to travel to when it is time to observe events of great import. I have that feeling about you, Syd.”

  I exhaled. “Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how tired I am of hearing shit like that.”

  “No, Syd,” Aela replied, leaning their faceplate close to my forehead. “I would absolutely believe you. I trust you.”

  My finger on a button. A planet burning down below.

  I didn’t tell the wisp then, but Aela was putting their trust in the wrong person.

  25

  A chime from my vid-screen woke me up. I scrambled out of bed while groping for my tablet, at first mistaking the ringing for my alarm. I wasn’t due to my Wayscope class for another hour, though. I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. My next guess was that the sound was some booby trap planted by Zara.

  “What the hell,” I mumbled groggily, half expecting a net to drop down from my ceiling.

  Finally, I noticed the message on my wall-screen.

  INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM [[EARTH—CONSULATE—001]]—MONITORING PROTOCOL ACTIVE—DO YOU ACCEPT? [Y/N]

  “Uh, okay?”

  My mom appeared on-screen.

  “Hi, Syd.”

  “Whoa, Mom,” I replied, hurriedly pulling on some pants. “Hey.”

  It had been a month since Washington, since she’d left me to jet off to space with my uncle, driving away without looking back. I guess neither one of us had really looked back. I’d been so swept up in things, first on the Eastwood and now on Denza, that I hadn’t even thought to call her. I’m what you call a bad son.

  She looked different. My mom wore a white dress shirt and a blue blazer, her glasses dangling from a strap around her neck. She sat in a conference room, a busy office visible through the glass wall behind her.

  “My goodness, you look like one of . . .” Her hand started to reach toward her mouth, but she stopped herself. “You changed your hair,” she finished diplomatically.

  One of them, my mom had been about to say.

  “Yeah, um . . .” I trailed off, this conversation already on an awkward footing. “Where are you, Mom?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I decided to accept the Consulate’s offer to have my old job back.”

  I opened my mouth, not sure what to say. I’d thought her bridge with the Consulate would’ve been thoroughly burned.

  “They aren’t letting me do anything interesting,” my mom continued. “I spend my days double-checking climate change models against technologic
al progress projections, then writing emails that nobody reads about how the Denzans should help us. I’m sure they’re listening to this conversation right now, and I’m sure I’ll have a polite email reminding me of the Denzan Senate’s position of noninterference.” My mom sighed and took a deep breath. “Anyway, it’s the best way to keep in touch with you, and I don’t have to sell drugs anymore.”

  I nodded, happy to be moving beyond the politics. “You’re back in Australia, then?”

  “Back home, at last,” she said, nodding. “Enough about me. I’ve been dying to check in with you, but they’re very stingy here with wormhole uplinks. How are you?”

  “I’m . . .” That was a loaded question for so early in the morning. “I’m all right,” I said at last.

  “How are your classes? Keeping your grades up?”

  “We don’t really get grades here; we’re just expected to make ourselves useful and learn everything we can,” I replied. “But yeah, the classes are good; it’s cool to actually be able to go to them.”

  My mom smiled in that tight-lipped way of hers.

  “Are you making friends? I know that was always important to you.”

  “Yeah, actually,” I said. “People here are pretty cool.”

  “The Serpo Institute only selects the best and brightest,” my mom said. “I’m sure the humans who grew up on Denza are good examples, too.”

  I cleared my throat and nodded. I didn’t feel like I could tell my mom that I felt more connected to the nonhumans I’d met so far than the humans.

  “I hope you won’t forget about us here on Earth,” my mom said.

  To anyone listening, I imagine that sounded like a typical mom thing to say. But I knew what she meant. I had responsibilities here. Expectations. I was supposed to rescue my dad and his miracle research on the Wasting, then kick-start an invasion.

  I couldn’t tell my mom how complicated all that had gotten. And not just because our conversation was being monitored. She’d lost me to the Vastness, but, in exchange, she’d regained her sense of hope about finding my dad and saving humanity. I wanted her to hold on to that.

  I checked the time on my tablet. “I’ve gotta get to class, Mom,” I said. “This one would blow your mind. I get hooked into a giant telescope, basically, and can see all the way across the universe.”

  My mom’s eyes brightened. She knew what I meant.

  “Wow,” my mom said. “Maybe you could use that thing next time I lose my keys.”

  “Sure,” I replied. “With a Wayscope, I bet I could find almost anything.”

  Behind her old bitterness and her new business-casual Consulate gloss, I saw her eyes brighten.

  I was still going to find my dad.

  We said our good-byes, and then I hurriedly got dressed. I really was late for my Wayscope class, although not the one that I’d signed up for with Coreyunus. I’d never gone back to that lecture after the first one. My uncle Tycius had made other arrangements.

  I needed to get to Little Earth.

  Tycius was waiting for me at the train station, tapping his foot impatiently.

  “Sorry,” I said. “My mom called.”

  “Ah.” His expression softened a bit, and he unconsciously touched the place on his bicep where his bindings were. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s . . .” I shrugged. “She hasn’t really chilled out. I’ll say that.”

  Ty laughed. “I’d expect not.” He paused and seemed to steel himself as a new train glided into the station. “Well, hopefully this trip doesn’t get us hauled before the Senate and thrown out of the institute.”

  “I think we’ll be okay,” I said, smirking. “You said it yourself. Rafe Butler is pretty much bulletproof.”

  The island of Little Earth was as deserted as the last time I’d visited. The sun—fully out of hiding for once—baked my arms and shoulders as my uncle and I hiked up the cobblestone walkway. Darcy was waiting for us outside Rafe’s pizzeria, picking at a rapidly cooling slice. When my uncle heard that I wasn’t the only hybrid getting shunned in Coreyunus’s class, he’d offered to include Darcy in this secret class as well.

  “You look nervous,” she said to me.

  “You look nervous,” I responded.

  She scowled. “Shit, how could I not be? I’ve never done this before, and the last time you tried, you almost burned your whole head off.”

  I steepled my fingers together and tilted my head back—a meditative Zen pose. “That was before I learned about deep breathing.”

  Darcy flicked her crust at me.

  Rafe waited for us inside. As soon as we entered, he put the CLOSED sign in the window and locked the door. I didn’t think he really had to worry about walk-ins, but better safe than sorry.

  The Chef rubbed his hairy hands together. “Come on down to my dungeon.”

  In the basement, next to some sacks of flour, there was now a Wayscope. The machine wasn’t nearly as complex as the ones I’d seen on the Eastwood or at the institute. In fact, the thing looked pretty bootleg. The goggles weren’t hooked to a big screen but instead just a regular old tablet, and the power source attached to the ceiling looked to be a couple of modified skiff engines.

  “What do you think?” Tycius asked Darcy and me. I could tell he was proud.

  “Is it safe?” I asked.

  “Does it work?” Darcy added, peering up at the ceiling, where a periscope-like hole had been drilled.

  “Of course,” Ty replied. “It’s just an older model that we’ve repurposed to work down here. You won’t be able to extend your consciousness as far as you could with a normal Wayscope, but—”

  “You’ll actually get to practice on this one,” Rafe finished for him. “No one to stop you. As long as we keep things hush-hush.”

  I crossed my arms. “Should we even ask how you got your hands on this thing? Did it fall off a truck?”

  Rafe winked at me, while Darcy took me literally. “It definitely looks like it fell off something,” she said.

  “Turns out, I knew where to find one of these retired models,” Rafe said casually. “And your uncle knew how to fix one up.”

  “You need practice,” Tycius said simply, then glanced at Darcy. “You both do. The way Coreyunus treated you—it’s a stain on the entire institute. I’ll teach the two of you twice a week.”

  Once I was strapped into the chair, using this training-wheels Wayscope after the high-powered one on the Eastwood actually seemed like a step backward. I could open my mind and see beyond the local star system, feel where its edges bumped up against nearby galaxies, and sense the soft places where a wormhole could potentially connect them. I wanted to reach out farther, but it wasn’t powerful enough to take me there.

  “Good, Sydney,” Ty said, although he sounded a bit puzzled. I eased myself back from the goggles and looked at him.

  “What? What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing, actually,” he said. “Your control was excellent, which is why I can’t understand what happened on the Eastwood.”

  “Uh, you mean besides being plugged into the Wayscope when a freaking Etherazi attacked?” Darcy offered from the peanut gallery.

  “Yes,” my uncle said. “Good point.”

  We exchanged a look as I cleared the way for Darcy. The Etherazi had arrived after I’d lost control of the Eastwood’s Wayscope. Goldy had saved me from spinning out farther. I shook my head. Maybe I’d been too eager to find my dad and gulped down too much cosmic info. That was the simplest explanation.

  Training was harder for Darcy. She had trouble opening her mind to the Vastness and seemed compelled to pull back whenever she got out too far. My uncle was patient with her, and by the end of the session Darcy had had more time in the chair than me.

  While Tycius worked with Darcy, Rafe sidled up to me.

  “You been enjoying my class, Cadet?” he asked with a wink. I knew he’d seen me goofing with Melian the week before, but Rafe didn’t seem like the kind of guy to ta
ke that personally.

  “Of course,” I replied, winking back. “It’s illuminating.”

  Rafe chuckled. “Illuminating. Kid, you’ve got a real way of making a compliment sound like an insult. You’re a hard guy to get a read on, you know that? Your mom trained you well.”

  Coming from Rafe, a man who was basically a shape-shifter—pizza maker, war hero, revolutionary—that was high praise. I kept my face impassive.

  “Thanks,” I said, gesturing to the bootleg Wayscope. “Thanks for setting all this up.”

  “Of course,” Rafe replied. “We all have to do our part to ensure the survival of humanity.” He paused when Darcy yelped and spasmed in the chair, my uncle at her side to calm her down. “I’m no expert, but you looked good out there. A natural.”

  I didn’t feel so natural back on the Eastwood, when I would’ve fried my brain if not for the intervention of an inscrutable galactic horror. “It was a good class today,” I said noncommittally. “I still need practice.”

  Rafe leaned closer, lowering his voice so my uncle wouldn’t overhear. “I wonder, how long do you think we can afford to delay looking for Marcius? Each day that goes by, don’t you worry . . . ?”

  My shoulders tensed. Rafe didn’t need to finish his sentence. I was still checking the light in the cosmological tether multiple times per day. “Of course I worry,” I said sharply.

  “I talked it over with Marie—ah, Captain Reno,” Rafe continued. “She can put in for an off-world training exercise whenever you’re ready. Use that for cover to go searching for your dad.”

  I hesitated. Rafe was pushing me, trying to flip me like one of his doughs. I shared his anxiety that at any moment my dad—who had held on for a decade—would suddenly wink out of existence. But unlike Rafe, I knew there was something dangerous out there. A future waiting for me that I wasn’t ready for.

  Rafe decided what I needed was a pep talk. “Syd, if your father came up empty out there and didn’t find a damn thing that’s useful, then you’ll at least save his life,” Rafe said. “But if he did find a cure for the Wasting? We’re talking about billions of lives saved, kid. Thanks to you. I’ve saved a planet before, pal, and let me tell you—it feels great.”