by Kate Moretti
She wanted to eat more. It was the first time she could remember having as much to eat as she wanted, but indulging in the succulent meats and frothy desserts would only make her usual fare that much harder to face. But I’ll have to remember all the dishes. Aunt Euphadora will want to know and eat vicariously.
At the edge of the table was a row of shining silver pitchers next to a perfectly balanced pyramid of etched crystal goblets. She peered into the pitchers and saw they were filled with chilled water, ice cubes dancing on the surface. Water. Not Syntholyte. Real water. She filled her goblet to the brim and sipped, letting the cool liquid trickle down her throat. Abandoning all pretense of lady-like behavior, she drank deeply and refilled her goblet twice more. They use this on their lawns and flowers while we drink red sludge. It took all her composure not to snap the stem of the crystal goblet in her hand.
It wasn’t long before she realized that drinking so much of the cold water so quickly was not the wisest thing she’d done in her life. Dawkins had left her without any indication of where the lavatory was, or even if there was one nearby. Certainly, even Council Members need one… but goodness knows if they could find a way around it, they probably have.
Wynn peeked her head out into the hallway. Dawkins was nowhere in sight. No staffers, no Council Members. No one to ask. She hesitated before stepping out into the hallway but admonished herself. No one said you couldn’t leave. Just be quick. The doors were all flat white with slim silver-toned handles that looked as though they might break if she gripped too hard. None had name placards or any indication as to what might be beyond the doors. At the end of the corridor was a room with a large opening and no door. She drew a breath and entered. To the right, she saw a silver-on-white diagram with a stick figure. To the left, the stick figure appeared to be wearing a dress. Eureka!
She went left and was greeted by a row of blinding-white marble stalls set against freshly scrubbed white marble tiles. It smelled of flowers and the buttery lotion-soap she’d once used while on a brief trek with her father. She took the stall closest to the far wall. As she sat, a screen affixed to the heavy door displayed ads for local events (“Science Symposium, 18:00 Thursday Evening” and “Narylonian Orchestra to Play the Works of Zaubert, 20:00 Friday Night”) interspersed with the times and locations of various meetings in the Council Tower. “Felstrander Report and Discussion” was located in the Main Council Chamber and scheduled to last another hour yet. At least I’m not keeping anyone waiting, then.
As she was preparing to leave her stall and wash her hands, she heard two female voices filter in.
“It’s a shame about Felstrander,” a gravelly voice said. “His research is right on point. I had one of the Health Techs from the mines call round an hour ago. Barylian poisoning for sure. If he lasts a month, I’ll be shocked.”
Pater. Quietly, Wynn lifted her feet and slowed her breathing. She had to hear what else they were going to say.
“Yes, such a shame,” the softer tones of the Chairwoman agreed. “Still, the daughter does good work. She could be of use to us.”
“A common girl from Tenturia?”
“Not so common. You heard her speak. No formal education beyond what the father could provide. Rather remarkable, if you ask me.”
“I’ll defer to your wisdom, Madam Chairwoman.”
The sound of rushing water and towels fluttering was followed by the sharp clackety-clacking of high heels on the marble tiles as the two women left the lavatory, their conversation now too muffled to follow.
For a moment, Wynn sat with her hands over her mouth to squelch the screaming. First Mater, now Pater. They can’t take them both. She refused to give in to the tears just then. The rational side of Wynn’s temper took hold. You say they can’t take him, too, but they already have.
Her hands shook with rage. How many years had he begged for proper facilities for his research? The small expenditure could have saved his life. They don’t care. The life of one Tenturian isn’t worth anything to them.
Wynn left her stall to wash up, collect her temper, and find the Chairwoman to give her the lecture of a lifetime, but as she dried her hands, she noticed a gleaming folio with the Council’s Seal on the front. Good. Pater’s research. My research. I can throw it back in her face when I find her.
When she opened the folio, she realized the work was not Pater’s. The report was entitled “The Toxicity of Barylian Crystals and its Effects on Human Subjects.” She flipped through the glossy pages. The “human subjects,” it seemed, were the miners on Tenturia: many died before their twenty-fifth birthdays from the constant exposure to raw Barylian. Wynn looked down at the black pads of her fingers. How long do I have left if I go back? A decade? Twenty years, if I manage to get my hands on some protective gear? Would the Council wonder why I made the request for it? Would they honor it?
Wynn stowed the report in Pater’s scarred leather satchel and returned to the corridor. What do I do now? Confront the Council? Run?
Dawkins made the decision for her. She was at the door to the lounge, turning her blond head, looking the length of the corridor for Wynn.
“I’m sorry. I had to… you know…” Wynn pointed back in the direction of the lavatories.
“Of course. How careless of me not to show you. The Council is ready to see you again.” Dawkins motioned in the direction of the Main Council Chamber and walked shoulder to shoulder with Wynn to the vast room.
“I hope I haven’t kept them waiting.” Wynn did a fair impression of sounding contrite, given that she knew they couldn’t have been convened for more than a few moments. I’m just going to keep playing the part. For now. Pitching a fit in the Council Chamber won’t earn me any medical help for Pater.
“Miss Felstrander, welcome back.” The Chairwoman smiled down on Wynn. Warm. Maternal. Completely unaffected by Lorian Felstrander’s imminent death. “We want to tell you how pleased we are by your work. We’re going to implement many of these techniques in the coming months. We couldn’t be happier with your hard work. To that end, we’ve come to the consensus that the best place for you to serve the Council and all the people of our solar system is by taking a place at the University here on Narylonia. We’d provide you not only with a place in the program, but the means to integrate yourself… properly.”
“I’m very grateful, Madam Chairwoman. But I’m not sure what you mean by ‘integrating myself properly’?” Wynn controlled the shake in her voice. They didn’t know what was in her satchel. They didn’t know she knew.
“An appropriate wardrobe, to begin with.” A Councilwoman with gray hair cropped short in a severe bob interjected. Wynn recognized the gravelly voice from the lavatory and tried to keep the recognition from her face. “Some assessment to ensure your basic skills are up to University standard. Remediation if they are not. Courses in etiquette, elocution, style, and deportment. Anything the Council deems necessary to ensure your success in the program.”
Code: I’m a bumpkin, and you don’t want me to embarrass you.
“You mustn’t think of these as courses, dear. More like a few friends offering you some advice. We want you to have a pleasant assimilation into the program.”
Assimilation. You want me to become a scientist drone like the others.
“I’m extremely flattered, Madam Chairwoman, but I was actually hoping for some medical support for my father, rather than a position for myself. I worry about his headaches.” As well I should from what I just heard.
“Sweet of you. Of course. We’ve already sent support. Our team will convey your needs directly to us.”
“Thank you, Madam Chairwoman.”
“Say nothing of it, my dear. We like to reward those who do exemplary service for the Council. We will gain as much from this venture as you will, I expect. We will send more information about when and where you should rep
ort for preparation. The next term doesn’t start for another three months, but we want to give you ample time to settle in, don’t we? Expect word in the next two weeks or so.”
Code: you’re dismissed.
Wynn nodded to the Council and strode from the room, annoyed that Dawkins followed her all the way back to the tarmac and watched intently as she boarded the ship and went through the protocol for takeoff. Wynn kicked off the too-tight shoes with a sigh of relief and listened to the controller over her comm panel. Once she had initiated the liftoff sequence, Dawkins turned on her spiky heel to return to the Council Tower.
Narylonia grew small in her port-side window, and she allowed the tears to fall. Pater is dying. What consolation is a place at the University if all this cost him his life?
“Quit your bawling and fly this contraption, will you?” A male voice sounded from the back of the shuttle, causing Wynn to scream.
“Who in the name of the Ancestors are you?” Wynn turned her fiery gaze on the lanky boy—perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with a mop of black curls and a self-assured smile—as he took his place in the co-pilot’s seat.
“Zane Delmar. Sorry to frighten you. Appreciate the lift, though.”
“Thanks a heap. I could be thrown in the Brig for transporting a stowaway. I ought to turn back and hand you over to them.”
“But you’re not going to.” Zane’s eyes scanned the interior of the ship, hunting for some untold object.
“What makes you so sure? And what are you looking for?”
“I’m looking for the report you lifted from the lav. And that report is why you won’t turn me in. You have no more love for the Council than the rest of us.” His hands finally found her satchel, and he seized the report almost gleefully and kissed the shiny cover. “We have to get this to the reporters on Lanton. It’s the only planet in the solar system with enough resources left to form any kind of resistance movement.”
“Lanton is three days from here. I’m going home to Tenturia.”
Zane flashed the report in front of her face. “Listen, lab rat, they’re going to find out you pinched this little gem, and soon. They’ll be waiting for you. Chances are, they’ll already have your family in custody when we get there. You land on Tenturia, you’ll either die or spend the rest of your life in a cell.”
“How would they know?” Wynn snapped as she held the throttle sturdy, despite her shaking hands.
“Cameras everywhere, lab rat. It’s how I knew you had it. I’ve been posing as a security guard for almost two months now. I was waiting for a Council member to leave a paper behind in an insecure room. Come up with some irrefutable proof that they’re poisoning us with their damned crystals. You saved me a lot of trouble, really. I saw you swipe the paper. All I had to do was call my lunch break and come hide in your ship.”
“Glad I could be of help,” Wynn retorted, returning her attention to the instrument panel in front of her.
“The coordinates to Lanton—”
“Don’t matter. I’m going home. You can figure out how to go to Lanton or wherever you want after that. On your own.”
“Tell me, why did you take the report if you weren’t going to do anything about it?”
“Who says I’m not? I’m going to warn Pater. Hopefully, we can stop the mining altogether.”
“It’s too late for your pater. Once the headaches take hold, there’s nothing you can do.” Zane’s words were harsh, but his tone was not completely callous.
“I have to see him…” Wynn felt her voice waver. If there were truly nothing she could do for Pater, he would want her to save as many of the others as she could. Throwing a tantrum in front of the outpost guards, demanding they release the miners, would do no good. She couldn’t exactly write a scathing letter to the Council, either.
“Okay, listen. I’m not sure what else I can do to convince you, but let’s give your pater a call. If all looks well and safe, we can go ahead and land, but I’ll need your help arranging a flight to Lanton if we do.”
“I don’t see why I owe you anything. This is my ship. I don’t have to do a thing you say, stowaway.”
“No, but you want this information out there. Of all the planets this affects, there’s none in more danger than Tenturia.” Zane’s words hit Wynn’s gut like a sack of Barylian crystals, all forged from solid truth. And there’s no planet the Council cares about less than Tenturia. They’ve nearly mined her dry, and the Barylian is almost all there is left. Locusts.
“We’re almost in range for a sub-orbital call,” Wynn agreed. The comm panel in Pater’s office would pick it up without trouble.
“That’s more like it.” Zane settled back into his seat until the ship’s comm panel indicators let Wynn know she was close enough to call.
She punched in the code for her father’s panel and waited for the slow connection to go through. Please be okay, Pater, please be okay.
“Hello?” Aunt Euphadora stood too close to the camera for Wynn to see her entire face. She’d never gotten the hang of the comm panel. Didn’t trust them well enough to learn, either.
“Step back, Aunt Euphadora,” Wynn ordered.
The elderly woman took two steps back and came back into focus.
“Better. I’m on my way back from the Council meeting. Can I talk to Pater?”
“No, dear. He’s resting just now.” Dear? I’m always Wynndolyn or “child.” Something isn’t right.
“Has anyone come to visit, Aunt Euphadora?” Wynn tried and was moderately successful at keeping the panic from her voice.
“Yes, two Health Techs stopped by to look in on your father.” Yes, the Council said they’d sent someone.
“That’s all?”
“Yes, dear. Were you expecting someone?” Aunt Euphadora’s eyes flicked to the left—several times. Was she looking for something? Or at someone?
“Not really. Just curious.”
“Very good, dear. Your pater said to remind you to land at the Fifth Airfield if you called in.”
“That sounds good, Auntie. Give Pater a kiss for me and tell him I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Of course, dear. And be careful.” Aunt Euphadora’s blue eyes looked strained as she reached the disconnect button on the comm panel.
“So I guess we’re taking a detour after all?” Zane sat up and studied the instrument panel, preparing to serve as co-pilot for landing.
“No. We’re getting the hell away from here as fast as this ship can haul us.” Wynn flipped the switches to halt her descent and reverse back out of Tenturia’s atmosphere.
It was a solid half hour before Zane dared to break her concentration with questions.
“Can I ask what sent you off like a cat doused in iced Syntholyte?” Zane looked out into the black abyss of space rather than at Wynn.
Looking to see if we’re being followed? We wouldn’t know until it’s too late.
“There are only four airfields on Tenturia. My father always referred to a false landing—skipping off the atmosphere—as ‘landing on the Fifth Airfield.’ He was telling me to run.”
“I always heard your father was a genius. Glad to know the rumor was true.” Zane unstrapped his harness reached over to Wynn’s side of the control panel.
Entering coordinates to Lanton. Not as if I have anywhere better to go.
“Wynn, I hate to tell you this, but there’s a good chance you won’t see your father again. Either we’ll need to hide from the Council, and he’ll pass on before you can go back, or else—”
“Or else the Council will speed things along for him,” Wynn finished.
“Exactly. I just wanted you to know that going in. Better to prepare yourself.” Zane put his hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it off at once.
I don’t nee
d your pity.
“You’re right. Let’s get this report handed in. The sooner it’s done, the sooner we might have a chance of getting back to our lives.” Wynn gripped the throttle of the shuttle until her knuckles shone white.
“Probably not an option, but optimism is a good trait to have on a suicide mission.”
“You’re a ray of sunshine, you know that?” Wynn tossed her head back and gave a full-throated laugh. It seemed more productive than brooding.
“I don’t have much time for rainbows and sunshine in my line of work.” Zane put his feet up on the ridge above the instrument panel and reclined in his seat. “I just hope this old rust bucket can make it in one piece.”
“It’s Old Rattletrap to you, thank you very much. And I promised her a new name if she got me to Narylonia alive. Zephyr, I think.”
“Rather elegant for an antique of a ship that practically runs on horse power.”
“A fine way to talk. This ship saved your life and is keeping us safe, despite your desire to get us killed. Be nice.”
Zane rolled his eyes and looked as though he were going to drift off to sleep at any moment.
Looks like you haven’t had a rest in a good while.
For three days, they took turns minding the ship and sleeping. Mealtimes consisted of carefully portioned emergency rations.
If I’d known what was going to happen, I would have filled up my satchel with food from the lounge. They likely threw away what I didn’t eat. The gleaming platters heaping with delicacies resurfaced in her mind frequently, making it hard to concentrate or sleep.