by Makansi, K.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you when I can.”
“Until then,” she says, “be safe.” I nod, trying not to acknowledge the absurdity of saying goodbye to a nonexistent being. I reach up and touch my ear, deactivating the device. I’ll get her back someday, I think. Jeremiah settles into the seat next to me and quickly powers up the ship to get us in the air. The Sarus starts to lift off the bay, accelerating past the Kingsland building, where the ballroom’s enormous windows glimmer one last time before disappearing behind us.
“So,” he asks, his tone falsely bright, “what’s out there in the Wilds?” It’s a good question. Even I’m not sure. I’ve spent precious little time outside our borders, and though I’ve read some reports on the state of the surrounding areas, the government has always seemed surprisingly unconcerned about the rest of the world.
“I don’t really know. The western-most Okarian establishment is Windy Pines, a factory town. If I remember correctly, they specialize in nanotech. In the Wilds, I’m less sure. Most of the areas outside of the Farms and Sector borders have returned to their natural state. And I know Outsiders live out there, but I have no idea where, or how.” Jeremiah gives me a sideways look as we cruise past Assembly Hall. “And, of course, the Resistance.”
“You know, for being so high up in the government, you’re surprisingly useless,” he says, smirking.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Why they ever let me into a position of power.…” I touch one of the controls to lower the opacity of the ship’s exterior. The skin of the Sarus becomes translucent and we can see all around us as we fly.
“No wonder Aulion was constantly on your case.”
“The man is truly wise,” I say, trying to conjure up a laugh. But my heart isn’t really in the joke, and I return my attention to the city brushing by us. The city we may never see again.
Tonight is a perfect night to be flying over the capital. All the streets are lit up by hundreds of thousands of individual candles, and from above it looks like a shifting, flickering ocean of light. We fly past pillars of light, buildings that have been allowed to leave on the electricity for the parties and celebrations. The city looks spectacular. It makes me think about what waits for us outside Okaria.
The lake is visible off in the distance, quiet and dark. I realize that out there, over the lake, is where the Resistance is located and where most of the Outsider sightings have been.
As if reading my thoughts, Jeremiah asks, “What’s on the other side of the lake?”
“There’s a factory town across, if you track northwest a little ways along the lakeshore. And two Farms, about fifty kilometers from the shore.”
“We need to decide where we’re going,” he says, somewhat sharply.
“Let’s just get outside the Sector first,” I respond, not meeting his eyes. “Then we can check our maps, eat a bite of food, change clothes, and decide what’s next.” He nods silently, but I don’t think he’s happy about my indecision.
We fly westward in silence for a while. I presume Jeremiah is just as preoccupied with his thoughts as I am with mine. The lights from the city dim and diminish slowly, fading into the black background of night. Above us the stars are brilliant, illuminating the pathway of the sky just as the candles did in the city. The world suddenly seems much more expansive as the white-pink dome of stars becomes the defining feature of the landscape. Whether that’s threatening or promising, I can’t tell.
It’s too dark to see much on the ground, but we can watch the landscape change through the ship’s radar imaging. We watch the rolling, hilly fields below us give way to trees and marsh, and I realize we’re already well outside the Sector’s administration area—the onset of forest means the land isn’t maintained or used by the Sector in any way. There are no real defined borders or lines drawn in the sand to mark the end of the Sector and the beginning of the Wilds. Instead, drones and soldiers will patrol the areas around the cities, towns, and Farms. In between, though, is mostly no-man’s land. There are some hovercraft paths to follow, but in most cases, it’s just wilderness. We’re probably already past Windy Pines, I realize, so we’re definitely beyond the normal reach of the drones. Miah’s been quiet as we fly, piloting the Sarus with all the grace of the bird she was named after.
“We’re definitely beyond the Sector’s reach for now.”
“I thought so,” he says, his eyes on the controls.
“So, you want to set her down? We can get out the maps and take a look at the area.” My stomach is growling. After all, I never did eat at the party. I check the clock on the screens. It’s already past one in the morning. No wonder I’m hungry. “We’re far enough out that we should figure out where we want to go. Specifically,” I say, though the words come out reluctantly because I have no idea where I want to go.
Jeremiah nods and starts to bring us down to a clear landing space, a little meadow along the side of a river. He sets her down gently and powers off the engines.
“Actually, Vale, we might need to stay here overnight. She doesn’t have a lot of energy right now. There wasn’t a ton of sunlight today and she needs to repower. We could just fly on the reactor for a while, but I think we’re far enough out that we can stay safely for the night.”
I check the energy meters. He’s right—the solar cells are low. They’re only at about fifteen percent capacity right now, which will be enough to keep the heating and cloaking on through the evening. We’ll be warm and invisible to passing drones, if there are any. If we push her further, though, we might end up sleeping in the cold. We prepared for all weather types, but I wasn’t planning on breaking into our camping gear already.
“I think so. We should have at least until mid-morning or early afternoon before they realize we’re gone, anyway. We can rest here for tonight and set out again early in the morning.”
Miah stands up to stretch. I can tell he’s tense. I’m sure leaving Moriana behind without so much as a hint of an explanation is weighing on him, and neither of us is happy about leaving our old lives behind.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, eyeing me somewhat warily. “You?”
“Fine.” He cocks a questioning eyebrow at me. I meet his gaze, undeterred. He looks away, satisfied, at least temporarily, that I am sane and functioning. “I’m going to get out of this tux.”
“I’ll change when you’re done,” I say. I step out of the cockpit and head to my pack. I pull out the plasma I stashed and load the map I saved onto the hard drive. I set it on the ship’s UMIT, the universal magnetic information transfer module, and a three-dimensional, topographical map comes up in the center of the tiny lounge area. Jeremiah, meanwhile, has started pulling his clothes off, and when he’s done and looking like regular old Miah again, he starts pulling food out of the ship’s tiny built-in fridge.
“Here,” he says, tossing me a Mealpak labeled VALERIAN ORLEÁN. We made sure to bring as much food from the Dieticians as we could. After all, we don’t want to lose our edge, intellectually or physically. I catch it and peel open the packaging, but something nags. Then I remember Soren’s words from the interrogation room: You and your friends dine on lavish meals juiced up with customized cocktails designed to amp up your cognitive abilities so you can laugh and philosophize about art and culture and science … Now I realize why I wasn’t keen on eating at the party. I hesitate, and when I look up, Jeremiah’s watching me, half his Mealpak already gone.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I respond, and I pick up a bamboo fork and start to dig in. I don’t have a choice. It’s the only food I have. Eat or starve. I pick up the little dumplings that have evidently been prescribed for me. The label says beef, rice flour, watercress, leek, turnip, apple, and on the back there’s a comprehensive list of every vitamin, amino acid, hormone, and protein the Dieticians have included. I wonder what this particular concoction is designed to do to me.
Jeremiah sits on the small bench next to the ho
logram, stabbing at his food, and starts to play with the map.
“It’s pretty accurate around Sector territory, like towns and Farms, because drones are constantly patrolling and taking aerial photos,” I comment, and then stuff two dumplings in my mouth.“Buh ih geds aachy ah you go earth er out.” Jeremiah is piling food in his mouth, looking at me incomprehensibly.
“Wha ’oo say?” he demands.
I swallow. “I said it gets patchy as you go further out. See, we’re probably around here,” —I point to a location and use my hands to zoom in on the area of woodlands I think we’ve found— “which has pretty good mapping because it’s not far from Windy Pines. But if you go further out, the detail isn’t nearly as good.”
Jeremiah starts to play with it a little bit, zooming way out over the continent and then back in on the Sector and the surrounding area.
“Where do you think we’ll find the Resistance?” I glance at him, hesitating. Is he really ready to commit to their cause so quickly?
“Is that where you want to go?” I ask. I put the rest of my dumplings aside. We’ve had this conversation before, but now we have to make a decision.
“It seems like our best option. I don’t know where else we’d go. Take up with the Outsiders?” My hand instinctively goes to the acorn pendant hanging around my neck. Thoughts of Chan-Yu, Remy, and Soren fly through my mind, but I shut them back down. Jeremiah notices the gesture. “Is that what you want to do? Go live in the Wilds with the Outsiders?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s right or wrong right now, and the Outsiders seem to be neutral players. Hiding out in neutral territory doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
Jeremiah scrutinizes me. He’s usually a lot more eager to voice his own opinions, but he’s been remarkably quiet tonight. I wonder what he’s watching me for. Hesitation? Fear? Signs of a nervous breakdown? I clear my throat awkwardly, and he looks away.
“Either way,” I say, breaking the pregnant silence, “we want to go south tomorrow, over the lake. No one really knows where the Outsiders are, because they move around so much. But as far as we can tell, they operate primarily south of the Sector. And the Resistance is southwest of here. We think their main base is south of Lake Ayrie.” I zoom in on the map on a blur of an old, ruined town. “This is the nearest base we’ve been able to locate. We think it’s really small, though—no more than ten people. And we’re not even positive it’s the Resistance. Could be Outsiders or just stragglers, nomads. But if you really want to join up with them, that’s the closest place with identifiable ties to the Resistance.”
“I don’t know about ‘join up with them,’” Jeremiah says. “But I think we should definitely consider going there. There will be people we know there. People who are familiar with us.”
“I know,” I mutter. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“I get that you think they’ll hate you, but you can’t hide out with the Outsiders forever. Maybe for a few days, a few weeks at most. But no one—not the Resistance, not your parents, not the Outsiders—will let you stay out there forever. You’re too important, too dangerous. You’ll get sucked back into this conflict eventually. And the Resistance needs us.” His eyes light up a little bit, and he’s staring at me dead on. “We could fight back, Vale.”
I know he’s right. I know what I should do. But I don’t know if I can bring myself to do it.
“I don’t think they want me on their side, Miah,” I say, rubbing my fingers against my temples. I look back at the map. “Who I am, who my parents are … I don’t think they want an Orleán with them.” In fact, I’m pretty worried they might just shoot me on sight.
“Are you kidding?” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Vale, you’d be the most important person to join them. Think of what you could do. How you could help them.” I know I could. The things I know about the Sector, the things I could tell them. “Think of the morale you’d bring over from the other side. The son of the chancellor, defected to the Resistance? They would love that.”
Yeah, but would they trust me? I wonder. I’d also be fighting against my parents every step of the way. Can I do that? I let out my breath and lean back against the wall.
“Let me sleep on it, will you? I can’t process all this right now. I can’t make heads or tails of any of it.”
Jeremiah leans back in his chair. I can’t meet his gaze, so I keep playing with the map, zooming in and out on the locations of other possible Resistance bases, and then swinging upwards to where our drones have spotted Outsider encampments. It could be so peaceful, so simple, with them. I could get away from this whole mess and never have to deal with it again. But what would Remy think of me?
After a few minutes, Jeremiah reaches over to his pack and pulls out a blanket.
“Okay, we’ll talk about it more in the morning. I’m tired; I’m sure you are, too.” His weak smile looks like he dragged it forcibly onto his face. “Just think about it, okay? Think about it seriously.” He heads back up to the cockpit and settles into one of the chairs, reclining and draping the blanket over his shoulders.
I think about it.
What it would mean to go join the Resistance. I lean my head back against the wall and contemplate the possibility. They would hate me at first, of course. They might suspect me of being a spy, or they might just throw me into prison. I reflect briefly on the irony of possibly finding myself in the same situation that Remy and Soren did. As soon as we surrendered ourselves to them, I would be at their mercy. Would they kill me? Starve, torture, and execute me like we did—almost did—to Remy and Soren? Try to drag as much information out of me as possible? Gruesome scenes fly through my head. My breath quickens and my heart pounds. Jeremiah, at least, has an in. His father is already with them. I have nothing. Worse than nothing. I represent the enemy of the Resistance. I am the enemy of the Resistance.
And what if they did let me join? What then? If they let me fight for them, could I do it? I trained alongside a number of soldiers who will no doubt continue to work for Aulion and my parents. They’re good men and women, no matter which side they’re fighting for. Could I fight against them? Killing Aulion would be no trouble, I think, reflecting on his coldness, his brutal nature. But my parents…. No. I can’t even think about that.
As I’m contemplating the impossibilities of turning on the Sector, of fighting against everything I’ve ever known, it feels like something is missing from this puzzle, and it takes me a few minutes to figure out what it is.
Remy.
And Soren. I feel like I owe them a debt. Helping them out of captivity in the face of certain death wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that I got them there in the first place. And now I don’t even know where they are. They could be dead, I realize suddenly, and the thought is accompanied by the claustrophobic feeling that the air is compressing around me, suffocating me. If they’re alive, I owe it to them to do whatever I can to help them. At the most basic level, I owe it to them to make sure they’re okay.
And if the Resistance does decide to do to me what I did to Remy and Soren, haven’t I earned it?
25 - REMY
Winter 2, Sector Annum 106 05h45
Gregorian Calendar: December 22
The air is freezing and thick with moisture. I can see my breath with every exhale, and I clutch the blanket tighter around my shoulders and wrap my arms around my knees to keep warm. It’s still pitch dark outside, but I know we’re close to dawn. Today, I think our spell of sunny weather will be over. Rain portends.
“We’ll take turns sleeping,” Soren said last night. We still couldn’t figure out how to activate the boat’s cloaking, so we were both paranoid about being spotted by drones as we meander down the river. “I’ll take first watch,” he told me.
I shiver underneath the blanket as I stare out into the misty, impenetrable darkness of the pre-dawn forest. I’m on watch now, though it doesn’t do much good, as I can’t see anything through the m
ist. Drones, soldiers, Outsiders, wild animals—I wouldn’t have a clue if any or all of them were watching us right now.
After Soren told me he would take the first watch, I collapsed into the narrow, single-man bunk and sank into the kind of deep, restful sleep that can only come from a feeling of safety and peace. For once, we weren’t in any immediate danger. I let myself go. I don’t even know if Soren tried to wake me up for my watch. All I know is that a few hours ago, I woke up to darkness and closeness and found myself latched around him, limbs entwined like lovers. Somehow it was different this time than the last two nights, when we’d slept curled up together for warmth. That was out of necessity. This was something more. But as I attempted to extract myself without waking him, I realized he wasn’t moving. His mouth was slack, his face pale, his skin cold and clammy. I thought he was dead.
I panicked.
I shook him, grabbing his shoulders frantically, hollering and crying like a mother who’d lost her firstborn, until he opened his eyes in alarm. Once the confusion fell from my face and I realized he was alive, I stopped panicking, and an enormous smile drowned his blue eyes and he reached up and kissed me. His arms wrapped around me and I collapsed into him. He pulled me against his full length with an urgency that both startled and drew me closer and … and….
And now everything is different.
We came together with a passion that bordered on insanity. His teeth tore at my lips and neck, and I ran my hands through his blond hair and pressed every inch of my body against his. He rolled on top of me and pulled my shirt open, attacking my shoulders like a starving man eating meat off the bone. I pushed myself up, leaning against my elbows so I could get to him better, to caress his face with my own, and then I made the fatal mistake of trying to roll over on top of him. That’s when we fell off the bunk.