Icarus Down

by James Bow

  Simon nodded, but I could tell he was upset. He motioned for Gaal to continue opening cells, and while Gabriel moved to talk to others, Simon saw me and came over. “A lot of people, isn’t it?”

  I scratched at my skin through the stupid grey coverings. I nodded at the frightened and nervous crowd. “We trust them?”

  He looked shocked. “Of course!”

  He was going to say something more, but somebody approached; a young man. “Look, thank you for getting us out of the cells, but what do we do now? It doesn’t take many guards to outnumber us.”

  Others nearby nodded. “We don’t need any more trouble,” said a young woman. “We’re safe here.”

  “Look, I’ve got a plan, but I need your help,” Simon began.

  But the fearful voices in the crowd overwhelmed him. Simon may have thought he was doing these people a kindness, but they did not seem grateful. I stepped farther into shadow.

  I found myself by the door leading to the room with the desk and the three guards I had shot. I glanced outside, longing for the extra space.

  Someone was moving in the outer area of the prison.

  I pressed my back to the wall as a young man, dressed in white, knelt by the fallen guards. The boy called Ebenezer. This was not good. He could alert others.

  I pulled out my blowpipe and shoved in a thorn.

  Before I shot, a man and a woman, clad in grey, came into view. I pressed back into hiding. They stared at the guards, and each put their hand on their gun.

  “Simon!” I hissed. “Simon!” But my voice was lost in the clamour of the prisoners.

  The guards looked at our door. I ducked farther back into shadow as they pushed open the doors, hard. “Nobody move!” they shouted.

  People jumped, some shouted. The guards entered, Ebenezer behind them, passing me.

  The guards did not draw their guns. They did not need to. Except for Simon and Gabriel, the crowd from the cells drew back, cowed. Some even backed into their cells and closed the doors. These were the people Simon needed help from?

  “What is going on here?” one guard demanded. “Back into your cells!”

  Simon drew himself up and got ready to speak. But he had no plan. How could he, when it had gone this wrong? But he did have me.

  I stepped from the shadows, blowpipe in hand, and blew. Reloaded, and blew again. Both guards stiffened, then fell to the floor. Everyone stared in shocked silence. Especially Ebenezer. Then he turned and saw me.

  “No! Wait!” Simon shouted.

  I recognized Ebenezer’s look: he was cornered, and like a slink, that made him dangerous. He grabbed up a fallen guard’s gun.

  I did not have time to reload, so I rushed him, grabbed his wrist, swung it toward the ceiling. The gun went off, an ear-battering noise. Screams followed.

  “Please! Stop!” Simon yelled.

  But the fear in Ebenezer’s eyes blotted out reason. He fought like a slink, clinging to the gun, and he was strong. I could not let go to reload my blowpipe. He brought the gun down between us, where I knew it would be deadly. His hand still clutched it. I strained to keep it pointed safely away.

  The gun fired a second time.

  We stopped. I stared into Ebenezer’s eyes, seeing the shock, disbelief and horror, and then a strange peace. He collapsed to the floor, blood staining his tunic in a widening circle. The gun slipped from his grip.

  “No!” Simon shouted, rushing forward. “No! Somebody! Help him! He needs a doctor!”

  People rushed forward. Someone pulled off his tunic and wadded it up, pushing it against the wound.

  I felt warmth on my hands, looked down, and saw blood there.

  Ebenezer gaped, then let out a groan. He looked through people, the same way my mother had stared. I shuddered.

  People pulled back, but Simon worked frantically, pressing the tunic on the wound, shouting for help. Gabriel touched the boy’s wrist, then let it drop.

  “Simon, I’m sorry,” said Gabriel. “He’s dead.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  TO LIVE AND TO FIGHT

  SIMON:

  His name was Ebenezer Todd. He was eighteen. He grew up on Daedalon and apprenticed at the flight academy. We’d never met. He’d preferred mechanical work to flying and was soon routed to the maintenance crews. By the time he died, thanks to me, he’d been working a whole year at Daedalon’s flight bay. We may have passed each other dozens of times, during which he was only a face and not a name.

  His fiancée never forgave me.

  “No,” I whispered. I rose to my feet. “No!” I was yelling at a dead man. “Why did you have to follow us? Why did you have to be a hero?”

  “Simon!” Eliza shouted.

  I stood there, breathing heavily. The echoes of my shouts faded. I was aware of people staring at me, but I could only stare at Ebenezer.

  I hadn’t meant him to die. But he died anyway, because of what I was trying to do. Just like at the anchor, when Iapyx fell because we’d tried to stop Nathaniel’s sabotage.

  If I kept this up, more people were going to die. Maybe what some had said here was true: maybe we shouldn’t speak out. Maybe I should step into a cell myself and close the door. Let Nathaniel have his secret. Let the world move forward on its own.

  Then Gaal walked to his desk and pulled a lever. A rope stretching up from his desk snapped, and the outer room started to rumble. A black shutter fell into place in front of the prison’s front doors. I looked at Gaal, bewildered.

  “Lockdown.” He pointed at another lever in the wall. “The alarm is still inactive, though. If nobody else comes, you have about a half-hour before someone notices. That barrier will keep people from just stumbling in.”

  Gabriel frowned. “Then how do we get out?”

  “There’s a secure door set into that barrier,” said Gaal. “Wide enough for one person to get out at a time. Easily defended, and right now not under guard, so long as you move fast.”

  Eliza straightened up. “Why you do this?”

  Gaal looked from her to me. He didn’t quite meet my eyes. “Because I know you didn’t destroy Iapyx. And, now you’re here, you’re going to do something about it. Last time I saw you … I sent you away to die.” He looked down at Ebenezer. “I stand around, and people die.” He looked up at me. “Well? What are you going to do? Whatever it is, now’s the time to do it.”

  I stared at Ebenezer’s limp form again, and thought of the Elder, lying in death, her civilization taken away by a lie. I had the truth. Stopping now meant Nathaniel would get away with it all. It meant a lot of deaths had been for nothing. Ebenezer’s among them.

  I looked at the Grounders. “You know as well as I do what Nathaniel did, his campaign of sabotage to turn the people against you. I can bring him to justice, but I need your help. More guards are coming. When they do, I need you to keep them occupied.”

  The crowd shifted nervously. The man who’d approached spoke up. “You’re talking about a prison riot. There’s already blood on the floor. We only have a handful of guns, and not many of us know how to fire them.”

  I raised my voice in the hubbub. “If all goes well, you’ll be acquitted.”

  “So you say,” said the man. “You weren’t here for the mass arrests. You didn’t hear people calling for our blood. We came away with prison sentences instead. Some people were starting to forget about us. Who are you to come and stir things up?”

  “My name is Simon Daud.” My voice echoed in the sudden silence. “You thought I was dead. You may have heard rumours that I was cast out into the fog forest. Well, those rumours are true.”

  People shook their heads. “Nothing survives the fog forest,” a woman said.

  “I did. And I can prove it.” I brought out the black box.

  I walked into the crowd, holding it out so they could see it. The light gleamed off the glossy seal of the Captain of the Icarus. Jaws dropped. People gasped. Everybody knew original technology when they saw it. They recognized t
he seal, and knew that the Captain didn’t just give that stuff away. I finished my walk through the crowd in front of the man who’d spoken out. He gaped at the black box.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “David,” he said. “David Hall.”

  “David,” I repeated. “I’m sorry you were arrested. I’m sorry people called for your blood. But none of that was my fault. The person whose fault that is is walking around out there, and we’ve got to stop him. I can understand why you want to keep your head down. But now it’s time to look up and around. Will you help me?”

  David looked at me. He nodded.

  “But what’s your plan?” a woman shouted. Others murmured and nodded.

  I hesitated. The truth was, I used to have a plan. Now I had to change it. With the Captain gone, I had no idea who to tell the truth to. I needed to get it out as widely as possible, so that Nathaniel had no chance to silence it. And I had to do it fast, before Matthew’s position became unassailable.

  But in the silence, I heard … music. I looked up, and found myself staring at one of the ventilation ducts. The music was soft, echoing down the tubes. Pipes and drums. Nocturne. The end of white. The end of restraint. Celebrating the setting of the sun.

  I rounded on Gaal. “What time is it? How long until Nocturne? How long until the sunset?”

  He thought. “A couple of hours.”

  I turned to Gabriel. “Give me an hour or so, then send people up to the Nocturne celebrations. Dress them up as guards so they blend in. The rest of you, when the guards come, make as much noise as you can, so you keep them off our backs. Okay?”

  People looked at each other, but where they’d been cowed before, I saw something else: a quiet determination. Had the black box given them hope? Or was it me?

  Gabriel clapped me on the shoulder. “We will. Good luck, Simon!”

  I took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never.

  I went over and tapped Eliza’s wrist with my fist. “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”

  * * *

  ELIZA:

  We left the prison and walked through the arboretum again, hearing laughter among the plants. As we passed, a girl’s voice called, “Ebenezer? Ebenezer? Have you seen Ebenezer?”

  Simon hunched his shoulders and hurried past.

  We came to another elevator, rose up a few floors, stopped, and then shifted sideways. Through gaps in the cage door, I caught glimpses of the city: people walking, people working, people laughing and running.

  I wet my lips and frowned at him. “What we doing now? You plan tell people truth what happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that all?”

  “Yes …” he said, slowly.

  I pulled the lever Simon had used to start the elevator up. It ground to a halt.

  “Eliza, what are you doing?”

  I rounded on him. “You have no plan! You tell people truth, and that all. What next? How you fix—” Curse this howler-climber language! I switched to my own. « What happens after you tell people the truth? What will they do then? »

  He looked hurt by my anger. « I not know. »

  I thumped the side of the elevator. « That is not enough! » I snapped. « They broke my people! They need to fix what they broke! »

  « Is broke. Is forever. » He looked away. “Eliza. Genocide can’t be … fixed.”

  I folded my arms. « What do you hope they will do when they learn the truth? What do you hope they will say? »

  His brow furrowed. “I hope … I hope Nathaniel and Matthew are put in prison for what they did. I hope people understand the terrible things they covered up. I hope they will … remember.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. « Remember? »

  “I hope they’ll be sorry.”

  I turned away in disgust. « Sorry! »

  “Look.” He put his hand on me. “What do you want? What was your big plan when you got to Iapyx? I mean, look at you: one girl against thirteen cities! You didn’t even speak the language. What could you possibly have done to make people pay attention …”

  The light dawned. He stared at me, and suddenly I found I could not meet his eyes.

  “Oh, no,” he said.

  I looked at the wall.

  “That was your plan, wasn’t it?” he said. “Your plan was to get yourself killed in some blaze of glory, some great violent act, that we’d never forget. That’s why you brought six knives.” Silence stretched for heartbeats. Then he added, “Why?”

  I took a deep breath. “Mother dead—” Never had the gulf between us been so wide: this stupid language. I switched again. « My mother had just died. My father and my brothers were already dead; everyone was dead. It was only the Elder and me. There was nothing left for me but anger. »

  “And now?”

  My brow furrowed. “Now …?”

  It was different now. I still wanted to make the invaders pay. But half a sun-turn ago, I had not cared if I lived to see them pay. Now was different. Now, I suddenly realized, looking up at Simon, I had something to live for.

  I pushed the lever back up. The elevator shuddered and rolled on its way.

  Simon stared at me a long breath longer, before turning away.

  * * *

  SIMON:

  The elevator opened onto more laughter. We saw people walking the corridor in twos and threes, holding hands, or holding each other around the waist, wearing bright sashes over their clothes and ribbons in their hair. No one paid us any notice.

  We were across from Daedalon’s Communications Hub. The counter window was closed. Someone had taped up a sign reading SORRY, COME AGAIN! Nobody was taking messages, and the office was probably on skeleton staff. At least, I hoped it was.

  The door opened easily and we stepped inside.

  Daedalon was the largest city on Icarus Down, and its Communications Hub was accordingly larger than Iapyx’s. The long, wide, low-ceilinged room hissed and breathed. The translucent pneumatic tubes snaking above our heads blinked as canisters zipped past, inbound and out, though at a slower pace as Nocturne approached.

  I saw isolated workers in the distance, pushing bins. In a distant staff room, boisterous voices were raised: people eager to be out for Nocturne. Nobody was near enough to see us or challenge us as we crossed the floor. The clerks’ desks were all empty.

  Along one wall were the doors of several rooms. The office of Gabriel’s counterpart here in Daedalon was closed. No light shone out from beneath the door.

  Farther down the wall I spotted a door marked FILM TRANSFER and peered inside. This room had similar video equipment to that in Iapyx’s Communications Hub. Good. My plan might just work. But how did I work the equipment? I had no idea, and there was nobody here who could help me.

  « What are you looking for? » asked Eliza.

  “Help,” I replied. Then I heard voices in the room next door. Eliza reached for her blowpipe, but I held up a hand. I crept to the door marked OUTGOING and looked inside.

  The room was full of the hiss, click, hiss of pneumatic canisters arriving and departing. The tubes snaked down the wall in two long vertical displays, one for arrivals, the other for departures. Between these, a long sorting table stretched into the middle of the room.

  Two men were at work at the arrival and departure tubes. A young man waited by the arrivals, snatching up the tubes as they slid into place, and stacking them on the sorting table. An old man stood on the other side of the table, working the departure tubes.

  The old man, I saw from his insignia, was Daedalon’s CommController. His back was bent and his hair was grey. He looked rather like Gabriel, but older and with glasses.

  We slipped into the room.

  The CommController glanced at us, took in our uniforms and said, gruffly, “I’ll be with you in a minute! Just you wait.” He peered at the canisters as he grabbed each one up, taking less than a second to read the label before popping it into the correct departure tube.

  Nudg
ing Eliza, I pointed to the apprentice. We stepped forward. I kept my eyes on the CommController. The apprentice looked up as we approached. His mouth opened wide when he saw the look in Eliza’s eye, but his protest never aired. Eliza clapped a hand over his mouth, twisted him around, and wrapped an arm around his throat.

  The CommController continued to grab from the pile of canisters the apprentice had stacked on the table. The pneumatics hissed as they shot away.

  “What is with the stem guards, today?” he muttered. “It’s been half an hour since their last canister. Nocturne’s no excuse to shirk their duties.” His hand shot out and swept the now empty spot on the table. Without looking back, he added, “Zachariah? You sleeping on the job?”

  I picked up a canister, glanced at the label and handed it to him. “This one’s for the mayor’s office.”

  “Thanks.” He gave the label a quick glance before shoving it into the right tube. Then his head jerked and he peered at me through his thick glasses. “Who the devil are you?”

  I gave him a wave. “Hi. I’m Simon.”

  “Where’s Zachariah?”

  A grunt, followed by a thud and a groan, made the CommController squint past me. He stared to see Zachariah lying dazed on the floor, with Eliza standing over him.

  “Taking a break,” I said.

  He shied away from me. “What is this about?”

  I took his arm and guided him away from the tubes. “Will you come with me, please? I need somebody to work the video equipment.”

  “What are you doing?” He tried to twist away. “You can’t disrupt the delivery of the mail.”

  I gave him an apologetic grin and held on. “My superior on Iapyx shares your passion. When the breakdowns happened, he took it personally.”

  The CommController blinked at me. “Wait … Simon …?”

  I sighed. “Yes.”

  The old man tried again to twist away. Gently but firmly, I pulled him to the back of the room where Eliza stood over Zachariah. The boy was getting his breath back. Eliza watched him warily, fists ready.

  “It’s okay, Eliza.” I held up my gun. “Both of you, I’m armed, so please stay calm.”