Under Falling Skies

by Kate MacLeod

  “He must be someone important to send such lavish gifts,” Liv said.

  “I gathered that much, thanks,” Viola said sourly. “But I don’t know how anyone becomes successful with such a loose grasp on reality. He has no means to know who even picks up what he drops or surely he’d know she’s not even alive anymore to receive his gifts. I didn’t even know about any of this until just before my mother died. My father was already gone, and I think she found it kind of romantic, having such a fervid admirer.” Her voice had a warmer tone now, and Scout thought it was from remembering her mother, but Clementine rolled her eyes dramatically. Scout scowled at her again. How could she have such a lack of feeling? Didn’t she remember her own mother?

  The kettle finally beeped and Scout poured the boiling water over the loose tea in the samovar and shut the lid to let it steep, then picked up the heavy thing to carry back to the table. She realized she had turned her back on Clementine and hastily turned back, gesturing with her head for Clementine to move. Clementine picked up the tray and led the way back to the common room with an almost cheerful spring to her step.

  What was she playing at now? No more grief for her adopted mother, not even a day dead. Strange girl.

  Scout set the samovar down on the table and took a seat next to Warrior. Liv had a stack of notes spread across the table in front of her. Scout recognized the square gray card stock and the harsh red lines of the most common font the Space Farers used. Scout reached across to grab a few of the cards. The messages were short, just rather benign well-wishes, each signed

  “from your lover who dwells above.”

  “Pretty tame for a fervid secret admirer,” Liv said, holding one up for Viola to see. Viola ignored her, reaching for one of the richer, butterier cookies on the tray. Her thick fingers scattered Clementine’s careful arrangement, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. She had sat down at the end of the table opposite Liv and was watching them all with a dreamy smile on her face.

  Liv put the cards in groups, then examined the messages and arranged them into different groups. Then she sat back, still frowning.

  “What are you doing?” Scout asked.

  “There must be a pattern,” she said. “There’s no passion here, just words. This must be a different sort of communication, not one of the heart. But definitely secret.”

  “What do you mean?” Scout asked.

  “A code, my dear child,” Liv said, leaning forward to change her groupings.

  “There’s no code here,” Viola said. “He’s a gentleman is all. Not everyone needs turgid passion in their lives.”

  “Case in point?” Liv asked, raising an eyebrow at Viola.

  “I’m perfectly happy living alone,” Viola said grumpily, then reached for another cookie, holding it between her teeth as she poured herself a mug of tea from the samovar.

  “It does seem a bit farfetched,” Warrior said to Liv.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” Liv said, tapping her fingertips on the table as she regarded yet another arrangement of the cards. “Perhaps it’s something much simpler. Baser.”

  “What are you on about now?” Viola asked, her mouth full of cookie. She washed it down with a long gulp of tea and seemed to enjoy Liv’s wincing at her manners.

  Liv took a deep breath, not quite rolling her eyes, as if her point should be perfectly obvious and they were all being dense. “Your mother met this fellow shortly before you were born?” Viola nodded, eyes narrowing in growing suspicion.

  “Drop this,” Warrior said, her voice a low growl, but Liv ignored her.

  “Isn’t it obvious? The reason this ‘secret admirer’ would keep sending gifts even though your mother is dead and gone?” Liv asked, all false sweetness again. “They were never for her, or not just her. They were for you. After all, she was just a woman he had known for a brief moment, but you—you’re something more.”

  Viola put down her mug, her face once more darkening. She narrowed her eyes even further, leaning forward as if she were about to spit something out, maybe a carefully chosen word, maybe a venomous spray like a lizard. But nothing passed her lips.

  “You’re his daughter, my dear,” Liv said, quite needlessly. Scout was certain even the dogs had picked up what she was driving at. Liv just smiled at Viola, her faux concern undermined by the glee in her eyes as she waited for Viola to explode.

  And explode she did, her whole body spasming before she spewed tea, cookie bits, and hot, scarlet blood over all of them.

  20

  Warrior lunged across the table, catching Viola’s arm but seeming not to know what to do. Viola looked up at her, her eyes wide with fright. Like Ottilie she struggled to speak, fingers clawing at her throat, but she couldn’t get a word out or even draw breath. Warrior caught her head before it fell to the table, only to gently set it down. Viola was dead.

  There was a quiet moment, then a clatter as Liv’s tea mug fell from her numb fingers. She looked at them each in turn, her piercing eyes searching for signs of guilt. Then she put two fingers in her throat and attempted to make herself vomit.

  Warrior was still standing with one knee on the table, her hand on the back of Viola’s head. She looked over at Liv. “That likely won’t work. Where did that antidote gun go?”

  Liv was dry heaving but managed to bring up the little bit of tea she had drunk.

  “The tea wasn’t poisoned, I made the tea,” Scout said. “It was the cookies. Clementine brought the cookies.”

  Clementine shook her head vigorously, her eyes round as if shocked to be accused.

  “You know you did!” Scout said. “I only turned my back on you for a second, not even a full second. How did you do it?”

  Clementine shook her head again, tears glistening in her eyes, all hurt betrayal as if Scout were her best friend for life and had inexplicably turned on her.

  “This is insane,” Warrior said. “Just four days to wait out the storm. Why is that so hard? Why can’t you people just keep from killing each other?”

  “There’s just one killer here,” Scout said, pointing a Clementine.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s just a little kid,” Liv said, wiping bile from her lips onto the back of her hand.

  “And we know she didn’t kill Ebba,” Warrior said. She was still half on the table, her reflective lenses moving from Scout to Clementine and back. “Well, there’s nothing else for it. Everyone get in a chair.”

  “I assume you don’t mean me. I’m already in a chair,” Liv said calmly.

  Warrior seemed to think about it. “No, you’ll be fine as you are. Set your hands on the arms of the chair, well back from the controls.”

  “Why?” Liv asked.

  “Because I no longer trust any of you,” Warrior said, reaching for the pouch on the side of her belt where she kept her thin cuffs, just like the ones that had kept tightening around Ottilie’s wrists.

  “What makes you think any of us trust you?” Liv asked.

  “I’m an officer of the law. Not local, but still.”

  “You could be anybody,” Liv said, reaching for the control to back up her chair.

  “But I’m not anybody,” Warrior said, snatching Liv’s wrist and cuffing it to the arm of the chair in one swift motion. She then caught her other hand and did the same. Then she pulled something from the back of her belt and showed it to Liv. “My badge.”

  Liv leaned forward to examine what Warrior was showing her. Then she sat back again, turning her head away and raising her chin. But if she thought the badge was inauthentic, she said nothing.

  Warrior turned to the other two, another set of cuffs in her hand. Clementine was sitting primly in her chair, her hands already resting on the arms. She remained motionless as Warrior cuffed her to the chair.

  “Make sure they’re tight,” Scout said. “I don’t trust her.”

  “They’re tight,” Warrior said.

  “Are you sure? She’s quite small.”

  “They’re tight,” W
arrior said again. “You, come with me.”

  “I thought we were all going to be cuffed in here,” Liv said.

  “I’m separating these two,” Warrior said, putting a hand on Scout’s shoulder to steer her into the communications room.

  “Maybe I don’t want to be left alone with this one,” Liv said.

  “So you think she’s dangerous too?” Warrior asked.

  “I don’t know what to think anymore,” Liv said. Her head was down, the hair that had worked loose from her tight ponytail obscuring her face. Scout wanted to step closer, to see if the weary despair in Liv’s voice was real. But Warrior’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she continued on into the communications room.

  “That chair there,” Warrior said. Scout sat where she had pointed, putting her hands on the armrests and allowing herself to be cuffed. Warrior didn’t draw the cuffs tight, but then she didn’t need to. Scout was sure if she tried to twist her way out of them they would tighten up on her.

  Warrior turned to the bank of monitors, cycling through all the camera feeds. There was nothing to be seen. The cameras posted outside were fuzzy with interference from the particle storm. Proof enough that the solar event was still going strong. Warrior looked over the controls, found the switch she was looking for, and turned the lights on inside the hangar. Several of the screens around her that had been opaque flared to life, showing various views of the mountains of trash inside the hangar. Nothing was moving.

  Warrior frowned, rubbed a thumb along her chin, and leaned over the controls again, hands flying as she summoned windows of text and changed values in the settings, then switched to the next window before Scout could quite read anything.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Changing some of Viola’s parameters,” Warrior said, fingers not slowing. “The cameras have motion detectors. I’m assuming she had the sensors set the way she did to avoid her cat setting things off, but I’m jacking up the sensitivity. If the smallest mouse stirs, I want a warning.”

  There were a lot of cameras, a lot of settings to be modified. Scout quickly grew bored with the screens of text she couldn’t see from across the room. But, unlike the chairs in the common room, the chair Scout was cuffed to could pivot. With nothing happening on the monitors, she turned to the side to see what they were doing in the common room. Liv didn’t appear to be talking, but with her head down and her face covered by her hair it was difficult to be sure. Clementine sat perfectly still, as if they were having some sort of game of who could be the quietest. The smile curving her lips said she was certain she was winning.

  “Should we be asking her questions?” she asked Warrior.

  “Hmm?” Warrior said absentmindedly.

  “Clementine,” Scout said. “Why does she keep killing people?”

  “How is she going to answer?” Warrior asked.

  “She can talk,” Scout said darkly, although she wasn’t sure that was true.

  “If she’s as skilled at being an assassin as you seem to think she is, neither of us would ever get her to talk,” Warrior said. “I’m almost more worried about leaving her alone in there with Liv. But I guess Liv is only dangerous when she talks.”

  “I don’t think she’s talking now,” Scout said.

  “No, she isn’t,” Warrior said.

  “How much of you is real?” Scout asked.

  “How much of me is real?” Warrior repeated, surprised.

  “I mean, you have those nanites. Those are weird. They do what—fight infections, poison, protect you from solar particles—”

  “Where I come from, they aren’t that unusual,” Warrior said.

  “Do lots of people have them, or just officers of the law?” Scout asked.

  “Lots of people,” Warrior said. She had finished adjusting all the camera settings and was sitting back in her chair, arms crossed as she studied all the monitors. But nothing was happening.

  “And your eyes,” Scout went on. “You can see in the dark. You can see those gadgets when the screens aren’t even showing anything or what they show doesn’t make any sense to me. Is that normal?”

  “No, that’s pretty much just for officers of the law. At least for now.”

  “I suppose it’s expensive,” Scout said.

  “Body modifications are always expensive,” Warrior said.

  “So someone like me wouldn’t be able to get any of that,” Scout said.

  Warrior swiveled in her seat to look at Scout. “Would you be interested in that sort of thing?”

  “The hardware or the job?” Scout asked.

  “Well, both,” Warrior said.

  “I don’t know,” Scout said. “I always assumed I would always be here.”

  “Why is that?” Warrior asked.

  “I don’t know,” Scout said again.

  “I think you’re old enough to start thinking about these sorts of things,” Warrior said. “It’s a big universe.”

  “Yeah,” Scout said. “I guess so.”

  “Listen,” Warrior said, turning to face Scout and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “The universe is full of kids like you. Kids that just sort of get stuck. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but it never stops making me feel heartsick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your family is gone. This job of yours can’t be that thrilling. I guess you stick with it because it keeps you out here in the wild most of the time. I know you’re mostly waiting around for the rebels to discover you, but I promise you that’s no real life either.”

  “How do you know what I’m doing?” Scout asked.

  “Come on, kid. You know I’m right.”

  “So what? You act like I’m stuck because I choose to be stuck.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “No. Say I wanted to leave—how would I even do that? Especially now, with the war about to start up again. There is no path for someone like me to get off this planet.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Warrior said, turning back to the banks of monitors. “There’s always a way, if you’re clever.”

  “I am clever,” Scout said. “I’ve been on my own for years. I wouldn’t have made it this far if I weren’t clever.”

  “All right, perhaps the question is: Are you clever enough?”

  “If I wanted to leave, would you take me?” Scout asked, her voice softer than she would have liked. She drew herself up taller in the chair to compensate.

  “Do you want to leave?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Scout asked. Such a strange question after how hard Warrior had been selling life in the universe at large.

  “Because out there, you’d be no one special.”

  “I’m no one special here,” Scout said.

  “Aren’t you? All of this analyzing coincidences you keep doing? Isn’t that because you think you are special?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Deep down, don’t you want to believe that your parents were spies? That they got you out of the city in time for some grand reason? That the rebels are waiting for the perfect moment to bring you into their fold, maybe even make you their leader?”

  Scout scoffed.

  “If you stayed here, you could wait forever,” Warrior went on, “always sure that the next day would be the day. The day you would find out what it all meant, why you weren’t there when your family died. Why you were spared when they were not. But if you go with me,” Warrior said, looking back over her shoulder at Scout, “you’ll have to admit there was no reason.”

  “That it was random?”

  “That it doesn’t matter why. It doesn’t affect you. Obviously the event affected you; I’m not saying you’re wrong to grieve your family. But trying to find out why isn’t helpful. Because in the end, that reason doesn’t matter. Not in regard to what you do with the rest of your life, not in regard to who you are. You’ll have to give up the idea that there was a reason you survived and they didn’t, the idea tha
t you can build your life around that reason. Because there is no reason.”

  “Then what?” Scout asked.

  “What do you build your life around?” Warrior asked. “Listen, they didn’t die so that you could do something great with your life. They didn’t sacrifice themselves for you. They just died. But you can do something great with your life to show that it matters that you did live when they didn’t. Do you see the difference?”

  “Maybe,” Scout said slowly. “I have to think about it.”

  “Good answer,” Warrior said, turning back to the computers.

  Girl peeked her head into the communications room. Slowly she padded up to sit next to Scout’s feet. Then she put one enormous paw on Scout’s knee. Shadow was watching from the doorway.

  “I think they need to go again,” Scout said. “Can you take them to their spot in the bathroom?”

  “Tell you what,” Warrior said, getting up from her chair and pulling Ottilie’s little knife from the pouch on her belt. “I’ll cut you free. You can take them yourself.”

  “So I’m among the trusted again?” Scout asked.

  “Kid, you never left. Go on, let your dogs do their business. When you get back, you’re going to help me search the complex. The cameras aren’t sensing anything, but I still don’t think we’re alone.”

  “Got it,” Scout said as Warrior snipped the cuffs away.

  “She’s free while the rest of us are still tied up?” Liv said as Scout passed through the common room, guiding the dogs to the bathroom.

  “I can keep an eye on one of you loose at a time, and she goes first because she’s the one with the dogs,” Warrior said. “If I’m right and we’re not alone, watchdogs are going to come in very handy.”

  Liv had something else to say, of course, but Scout tuned it out as she passed through the storage room to the bathroom. She waited for the dogs to finish, then cleaned up when they were done. She took a moment to herself, trying not to think of the bodies laid out on the benches in the back corner of the room. Ruth’s body was still in the barracks, and no one had bothered to move Viola from where she’d fallen on the floor in the common room. It didn’t seem right. She should tell Warrior that they should do something with it.