by Sarah Zettel
Chena fixed her gaze on that arrow as if it held her entire world. She let it lead her through the shifting noise of the laboratory and back out into the quiet, green-scented foyer. She heard a door open ahead of her.
Then the floor around the arrow turned yellow.
Keeping her eyes on the arrow, Chena walked into the involuntary wing. Her mind tilted and spun, all her thoughts thrown into chaos by fear.
Maybe I’ll get to see Sadia again, she thought almost hysterically. The sudden, clear memory of Sadia’s blank eyes brought all her thoughts crashing back together.
“In here, Chena,” said Dionte.
Chena halted in midstep. A door had opened to her right. Beyond the threshold, she saw a windowless yellow room and a table with two chairs facing each other. In the far corner waited yet another chair, this one fully rigged out for image projecting.
Chena’s mouth went dry and she whirled around. There might be one chance for help, or at least leverage.
“I want to see Tam Bhavasar.”
Dionte frowned. “Tam? Chena, I don’t think you understand—”
“He’s my case supervisor, isn’t he?” she pressed. “Isn’t he the one who should be evaluating me?” Chena scanned the walls, trying to see a speaker grill or some hint of an input terminal, even though she knew there would not be one. “Aleph, shouldn’t my case supervisor be evaluating me? Don’t I get that much?”
There was a pause, and Chena’s heart hammered hard as she clenched her fist around her false fingernail. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die, but I can’t let them keep me here, I can’t let them get me.
“Yes,” said Aleph at last. “It is right that your case supervisor continue with your evaluation.”
A frown flickered across Dionte’s face and Chena felt a stab of hope. Maybe there was something going on here. Maybe something she could use.
Maybe I’m not trapped.
Dionte lifted her hand. Chena saw how slick and shiny her fingertips were. Dionte pressed them against the wall, and the faint reflection of the light distorted around them. The hairs on the back of Chena’s neck prickled with the knowledge that secrets were being passed around her.
“Your case supervisor will be sent to you, Chena,” said Dionte as her hand lowered to her side.
Anger flared inside her as she walked into the blank yellow room. You think I’m stupid, then? You think I’m still just down from the pipe and I haven’t got a spark between my ears yet?
Whoever they were sending her, it wasn’t going to be Tam, that much was sure, or they would have used his name.
Dionte looked on impassively for a moment before the door slid shut between them.
Chena collapsed into one of the chairs by the table. She rubbed her forehead and then stared at her hand and the false nail on her little finger. Maybe she should take the poison now. Check out into the dark, and they’d never touch her again.
No. They were still telling secrets about her. They still knew who had killed Mom and she was not going to let them go until she knew, until she’d taken their plans down. They weren’t getting away with it. She would make sure. They could make mistakes. They could be lied to. She would find a way out of here, and with all their secrets.
Then her spine straightened. She still had not only her poison, but her pocketknife, and the packet of compounds that she had brought in case she needed extra leverage with her client. They had not searched her at all. Why not?
The door opened silently. Chena watched without surprise as Teal’s old spy, Tam’s cosupervisor, walked in.
“Hello, Chena.” He smiled as he sank into the chair on the other side of the table. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name’s Basante.”
Chena looked him up and down and said nothing. They are trying to play you. Make him talk. Make him tell you what he wants.
“I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why you really came back?”
Chena shook her head, her eyes flicking to the walls, watching for any change that would indicate Aleph was listening in.
Basante followed her gaze.
“I see.” He nodded and laid one hand on the wall. “Deaf and dumb,” he said. Chena cocked her head inquisitively toward him. “Aleph has now forgotten this room.”
“Nice trick,” said Chena, keeping her voice very bored.
He smiled, and for the first time Chena saw a hothouser look modest. “We worked long and hard on it.”
Chena folded her hands across her stomach and gazed across the table at Basante. Whatever he wanted, she was not going to give it to him easily.
“You do look a lot like your mother.”
Chena’s whole body jerked backward. “What do you know?”
“I was her case supervisor, as well you know.” Basante pressed his palms against the tabletop as if he were trying to hold something down. “I oversaw her pregnancy, and her living conditions. She was always very concerned about your comfort and education—and safety,” he added.
Chena’s throat tightened. She couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to that.
“I’m not sure what she’d think about what you’ve become.” He shook his head slowly. “A poisoner? A fugitive?”
“Oh, no, Basante,” said Chena, settling herself back down. “That’s the obvious play. Use my mother’s memory to shame me and get me angry.” She folded her arms. “You didn’t know her, you just used her. Try again.”
“But I did know her,” said Basante calmly. “Your mother was a volunteer. That made her a resident, and a valued one. She also was the key we’d been looking for. Her work was going to help end the Diversity Crisis. She was going to save millions of lives, and she knew it. She worked very closely with her whole team.”
“Funny definition of work,” muttered Chena to the table. “I think you mean ‘was experimented on.’ ”
“No.” His voice was calm, firm, and a little sad. He sounded way too much like Aleph. She wondered if he knew that.
Was Aleph really off? Or was he just saying that to get her to relax? No way to know. It made for a strange lie, though. Most hothousers took Aleph for granted, like the filtered air around them. On the other hand, he was a “case supervisor”; who knew how much of her behavior he’d analyzed?
No way to know.
“We’re evil, right?” Basante was saying.
Chena smiled and spread her hands. You said it, I didn’t.
“We kidnap people and reduce them to lab animals. We care more about Pandora than we do any of the people on it. The villages are living laboratories. Who knows what we did to your friend Sadia—”
“I do,” snapped Chena, and she was instantly sorry. She couldn’t let this get to her.
He’s just talking lies. Let it roll off. Let it roll off. Just buzzing. Just a bug buzzing, that’s all.
“Sadia served her time, Chena,” he said quietly. “She did her part, and now she’s living in Taproot, with a paying job and her own home. I made sure of that.”
“You?” Chena’s eyebrows lifted.
Basante nodded. “I did, and my friends did.” He leaned forward. “There are some of us who believe that the families inside the complexes are taking the wrong road.”
Slowly, Chena lifted her gaze. Basante’s face was earnest, open.
What is going on with you? “Sounds like that’s your problem.” One corner of Basante’s mouth turned up. “Yes, that is my problem. As are you.”
Chena shrugged. She did not like this. How could he even be talking like this? Wasn’t that chip in his head supposed to keep him united with his family? She did not like this at all. Some new secret was being woven. She could feel it in every pore of her skin.
“It took a lot of doing so that we could get to you before they did.”
“They?”
Basante nodded solemnly. “The ones who killed your mother.”
Slowly, Chena stood. With measured steps, she walked around the table. Basante swive
led his chair so he could look straight at her. “I am so sick of hints and games I could spit,” she said. “You tell me what you have to tell me, or I’ll…”
“You’ll what?” said Basante. “You’ll poison me? Or you’ll just stab me?” He smiled at her. “Yes, we left you all your weapons. Now, why would we do such a stupid thing?”
Chena said nothing, she just clenched her hands into fists.
The gesture did not escape Basante. “Very well.” He pushed the chair back a little and stood up. He was just eye level with her, and she could see the lines age and stress were beginning to etch on his face.
“If we in the hothouses do not change or grow, we are going to die. Maybe the Authority will destroy us. Maybe the Diversity Crisis will finally find us. Either way, we are in danger.” He took a breath. “My friends and I have tried and tried to get the families to hear reason, but they will not listen. They continue to squabble and debate. Those debates are what killed your mother. I have tried for years to find out who wielded the knife and silenced Aleph, but I can’t.” He looked down at his own hands as if they were symbols of his inadequacy. “I was hoping that you might be able to find out for me.”
Chena realized she was breathing fast and shallow, but she couldn’t help it. She closed her mouth and swallowed. “How?”
“By volunteering.”
Those words froze all the blood in Chena’s veins. Something must have showed in her face, because Basante went on quickly. “No one will suspect you. You are just a villager. You will be able to ask questions and find information that I cannot. Everyone knows I have an agenda. No one will suspect that of you.” He spread his hands. “You cannot tell me you haven’t noticed that some of my family do not believe villagers capable of thought.”
Chena peered at him closely, as if trying to see straight through his eyes and into his mind. He means it. God’s garden, he really means it.
Suddenly Chena could not stand to be close to the man. She backed away, putting the breadth of the table between them again.
“We need you, Chena,” he said flatly. “You’re the last of your family that we have contact with. You’re the last one who can help us.”
Chena hung her head. Her whole world spun so she couldn’t think straight. This hothouser was offering to help her find out who killed Mom. He needed her. He meant it. He had shut off the all-seeing Aleph.
“Chena?” he asked gently.
Chena bit her lip and straightened up. “You are going to have to give me more than the chance that I might find out something new about Mom,” she said.
“Such as?” asked Basante warily.
Chena touched her fingertips to the table. Its surface was smooth, solid against her skin. “Would you… could you bring my sister back for me?”
“If you could tell us where to look, gladly.”
She brushed her fingers to and fro absently. The table didn’t seem to be metal, plastic, or wood. It was probably some new thing the hothousers had grown for themselves. “Would you guarantee me that you would leave Nan Elle and others like her alone?”
Basante hesitated. “I couldn’t say, but I believe more latitude could be negotiated, if I turned a few favors.”
“Would you let me leave, once I’d given you what you wanted?”
“Yes.”
Chena slumped back down into the chair and knotted her fingers together. Basante stayed where he was, hands open, ready to give her everything she ever wanted. Even if he was lying, he was giving her a chance to get back into the hothouse, in the voluntary wing where she could have some freedom of movement and access to the databases. She could continue training Aleph from there. She could not only find out who killed Mom, she could get straight to them.
And if he was by some miracle telling the truth, she could get Teal back too. All she had to do was say yes.
She swallowed again. Her throat felt tight and sandy. “Um, could…” She made herself give him a small smile. “Could I get a glass of water or something?”
The smile Basante returned was genuine. “Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think to offer you something. I’m pretty dry myself.” Basante paused. “Can I turn Aleph’s awareness back on?”
Chena twisted her fingers a little tighter. Her fingernail with its stash of poison loosened ever so slightly. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
Basante nodded as he stood. “I will be back in a moment.”
Basante left her there. Chena did not get up and try the door. It was sure to be locked. Even if it wasn’t, Aleph was out there. She could not let Aleph know what was going on.
What if it’s real? What if he means it? Even if he doesn’t… She clenched her fingers together, and then remembered how Dionte had done the same thing. Was Dionte one of Basante’s friends? Was that why she had picked out Chena to contact? It made sense. Why not just pick her up? Because it would panic the villagers. If she vanished on her own, who would care? Nan Elle, probably, but no one else.
They’d gone through so much just to get her here, to get her to listen to them. They’d shut down Aleph and they’d told her everything. She could use them. They’d think they were using her, but she could use them. Maybe they’d even give her access to the command that shut Aleph down….
With that thought, Chena made her decision.
The door opened to let Basante back in. He carried a carafe in one hand and two glasses in the other. He poured out a glass of clear liquid and handed it to her. Chena, unable to drop all suspicions, sniffed the liquid and then took a swallow. It was water. She hadn’t actually been expecting anything else. She gulped it down and reached for the carafe to pour another glass.
“Are you sure no one’s watching us?” Chena turned to look behind her.
Basante glanced toward the door. Chena flicked her little fingernail against the lip of the carafe and poured her water.
“Yes, I’m sure.” Basante reached for the carafe and poured a glass for himself. “I wouldn’t have spoken as I have if I was not sure.”
“Of course.” Chena studied her drink. “You did have a lot to say here, didn’t you?”
“I might ask”—Basante lowered his glass—“what you think of it.”
Chena cupped the glass between her hands, swirling the water slightly. “Why do you people care so much about Pandora? It’s just one planet. There are millions.”
Basante looked startled. He took another swallow of water. “There are no other planets like this.” He smiled fondly, as if he were speaking of a friend. “This is the closest thing to Old Earth that has ever been found. Earth, the mother of us all, was destroyed over two thousand years ago by humans. We will never understand the place that gave us birth, the place where we were supposed to be in the universe. By understanding Pandora, thoroughly and completely, maybe, just maybe, we can understand our own nature, and the web of life.” His eyes shone. “No one has ever understood all the interactions that can make up sentient beings. But we might be able to. If the world remains undamaged. If our work goes on, we might still one day be able to go back and revive Old Earth.” He drank again. “That is why we are doing this, Chena. The Authority has threatened to destroy Pandora, to destroy all the work and understanding we have achieved. We are being held hostage. We must do as they say. I know your family has suffered because of this, and I am sorry. If you work with us, we will offer you what recompense we can.” He shook his head. “I know it is cold comfort, with what you have lost. I love my family. I cannot imagine…” He must have seen the stony look on her face, because he cut off his sentence and took another drink of water. “We will do for you what we can, Chena. I swear.”
“Maybe you need me because you don’t have your cure,” she said. “Someone stole it out of my mother. Maybe you’re just lying to me so I’ll be a nice, docile little volunteer for you.”
Basante shook his head again. The hand holding the glass trembled just a little. “If we wanted to use you, Chena, we would have just taken you out of
Offshoot.”
“How can I be sure?” she said softly, lifting her gaze to his face. He’d gone a little pale. He would start sweating any second now. “How can I believe anything you say?”
Basante started to sigh, but it turned into a cough. His face crumpled in confusion and he pressed the heel of his hand briefly against his stomach.
You’ve never been sick, have you? thought Chena. You don’t know what it feels like when your body turns against you. You’ve got no idea what’s going on right now.
Beads of sweat stood out on Basante’s forehead. He stood. “I’m sorry…” he began, but his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor.
Her mouth went completely and instantly dry. She rounded the table. Basante curled up beside his chair like a baby, clutching his stomach.
“Wha… what…” he stammered through clenched teeth.
Chena dropped to her knees beside him. She could smell his sour sweat and all the different scents of fear.
“Listen to me carefully,” she croaked. “You’ve got an alkaloid poison in your system. It’s killing you. I can save you.”
“Aleph…” He closed his eyes against another spasm of pain.
“Aleph can’t hear you. You said that, remember? I can save you. I will save you.”
His eyes rolled open again, wide and terrified. “Help me,” he murmured.
“Who killed my mother?”
His whole body shivered and twitched. “What?”
“Who killed my mother?” repeated Chena. “You know how to shut off Aleph. So did whoever killed Mom. Tell me who it was, and what they did with the thing inside her, and you’ll live. I’ll run out the door. I’ll tell someone what’s happening. I’ll tell them what I used.” She leaned closer, right into his ear. “All you have to do is tell.”
For a second, the poison released him and he lay there gasping for air. “You fool,” he panted. “You poor fool. You could have saved us all. You could have been queen of the world.” He lifted his head, but another spasm wracked him and whatever he had wanted to say became a wordless grunt of pain.
“Who killed my mother?” demanded Chena. “Did you do it? Huh?” She pushed at his shoulder. If felt hard as a rock. “Was it you who cut her open to get at that thing inside her?”