Icarus Down

by James Bow

  Most of the children did not hear me. One or two stopped and looked around. I clicked again. « Tik-tik-tik-tik! »

  More children looked nervous and fearful. They asked each other what they had heard, what it meant. And the more they talked, the more fearful they became. A brave few came closer, looking for the source of the noise. I waited, until they were within striking distance …

  I leapt out at them, chittering as a true monster would.

  The children scattered, screaming. All save one little girl in the centre of the group, now alone, so startled she had fallen to the ground. She stared up at me with wide, terrified eyes. Then she curled up into a ball and wailed.

  I stared down at her, my arms limp at my sides. She was so small. Her long hair hid her face. Her long, dark hair. Like mine.

  She looked so small to be frightened, and I was ashamed to have frightened her.

  I knelt before her and brushed back her hair. She flinched at my touch, but I hushed her gently. “Listen, listen,” I said, choosing my words carefully in Simon’s language. “No fear me. I … sorry.”

  The girl sobbed, but one eye peeked at me over her knees. I brushed her hair again, and this time she did not flinch.

  The other children peered out from hiding. Some crept closer.

  “Soft, soft,” I said, quietly. “No fear. Nothing fear.”

  The girl stopped crying. She looked up at me, her eyes wide. They were like my mother’s eyes, before they went blind.

  “Nothing fear,” I said to the girl. “Nothing here.” My voice caught as I looked around me. “No monsters here.”

  The other children gathered around their fallen friend and helped her up. They looked at me, unafraid, but perplexed by this strange woman before them.

  “I sorry,” I said to the girl again. “Please … forgive.”

  The girl looked at me a breath longer. She patted my hand. Then she turned and ran, but she was smiling. Her friends followed her, casting nervous glances at me as they went.

  I rose to my feet and watched them go with new eyes.

  Maybe I could not forgive all of Simon’s people, but I could forgive the children, just as the Elder had done. Though someone would have to teach them a different game to play. Maybe that someone would be me.

  But first, I had work to do. Maybe there were no monsters here, but I knew where I could find some. And I had left Simon to fight them alone.

  * * *

  SIMON:

  For a moment I stared, dumbfounded and caught. It took me a second to realize that the security officers — Iapyx security officers; I could see the arrowhead icon on their sleeves — looked just as stunned as I did.

  “Well, I’ll be,” muttered the shorter of the two officers. “Simon Daud. Tal was right.”

  “How’d he survive the fall? Or the fog forest?” said the other officer.

  “Doesn’t matter,” the first officer muttered. He stepped forward, reaching for my arm. “Come with us, Mr. Daud.”

  I didn’t recognize either of these officers. Iapyx had been big enough that they could be faces in a crowd, so I didn’t know their names. I didn’t know what they knew. But I knew that if I went with them, I would be dead. I backed up.

  The two put their hands on their holsters. “Don’t make a scene,” said the second officer.

  Making a scene was a very good idea. But right then, I didn’t know what scene to make.

  Just then, Gaal ran up. “What’s going on here?” His voice pulled an edge of command that I hadn’t heard from him before. “Is there a problem?”

  That’s when I remembered that Gaal was wearing grey, just like these Iapyx security guards. More importantly, he had Daedalon’s cog and hammer on his sleeve.

  The two Iapyx officers worked for Nathaniel, but they were not on their home turf. Still, they weren’t about to give up.

  “This is Simon Daud,” said the guard. “He’s under arrest.”

  We didn’t have to shout anymore. The crowd had grown quiet. They were watching the stage as Mayor Tuan gave an address.

  “Nocturne is a time of celebration and thanksgiving,” his voice rang out. “A time when all the citizens of Icarus Down remember the past, and reaffirm their allegiance to the future — our future — together. As we deal with the loss of our sister city Iapyx and decide on who will next ascend to the Captaincy, I am proud that we know how to open our arms to each other and work toward the common good of our colony, leaving the mistakes of our ancestors behind.”

  “Simon Daud,” Gaal deadpanned. “The man who was at the fall of Iapyx seven months ago and hasn’t been seen since? Somehow turns up, wearing a Daedalon security uniform like me?” He pointed at his insignia. “You’d think I wouldn’t know if I was serving with a terrorist?”

  The Iapyx security officers looked uncertain. I kept my mouth shut. One mustered, “But Security Chief Nathaniel said—”

  “Does Nathaniel give the orders here?” Gaal snapped.

  On the stage, Mayor Tuan introduced Mayor Matthew Tal, who started to give what I could hear was a campaign speech. The reception of the audience was polite, but cool — different from what I would have expected from Iapyx, or perhaps even any other city. On Iapyx, there had been resentment over the apparent presumption that the mayor of Daedalon would be the next Captain. I wondered if, on Daedalon, there was resentment over the apparent presumption everywhere else that the mayor of Daedalon wouldn’t.

  The two officers shifted on their feet, neither bold enough to challenge Gaal’s rank and authority — at least, not in public like this.

  “Remarkable resemblance,” the first officer rallied.

  “More likely than a remarkable survival,” Gaal shot back. “Now, if you have things to do, go do them. Or enjoy Nocturne, at least.” He and I turned away. “That’s a relief,” he whispered.

  Then we faced the stage. We were fifty metres away, and the crowd was impenetrable.

  The mayor of Daedalon called for the colonial oath, and the chant rose up from the people around me. This had been so ingrained in us that I found myself chanting along with the audience: “We pledge ourselves to the future of Icarus Down. Together we shall build the future, for ourselves, and for the generations that follow. We shall leave the mistakes of Old Mother Earth behind.”

  As I said the oath, a knot formed in my throat. Whose generations? I thought. Hadn’t the Elder’s people deserved that same chance? What about Rachel and Isaac? Why had we brought the mistakes of Mother Earth with us?

  We should be ashamed, as I had told Eliza. Ashamed of our very skin.

  I turned back to the Iapyx security officers, who were walking toward the exit. “Actually, I am Simon Daud,” I called.

  Gaal flinched. “Simon—” he hissed, before he could stop himself.

  The Iapyx officers turned on me. They put their hands on their guns.

  “And you are going to help me get to the stage,” I said.

  The first officer scoffed. The second shook his head in bewilderment.

  “Because I think that you would never have helped Nathaniel if you knew the truth about him,” I said. “I did not destroy Iapyx. But I know who did. And I survived seven months in the fog forest to find the truth.”

  At the podium, the mayor of Daedalon raised his arms to the screen. The projection flickered to life and displayed last year’s image from atop Daedalon’s semaphore. The diamond lands sparkled as, taking up just an eighth of the horizon, our sun finally descended from the sky.

  Then, in the blink of a frame, the setting sun disappeared. The mayor dropped his arms, startled to find himself staring into the larger-than-life face of the second Captain of the Icarus. The crowd gasped.

  I gave the officers a grim smile. “And I’m going to show the truth to everyone.”

  Through the projection room’s megaphones, the Captain’s voice boomed out.

  “Ship’s Log. Day 26,298 of our journey from Old Mother Earth. The advance force leaders are due b
ack tomorrow …”

  On the stage, Nathaniel shot up from his seat and rounded on the screen. The projection shook, as though someone in the projection room had grabbed the projector, only to be knocked down by someone else. The film played on.

  The Great Hall had gone quiet, but Nathaniel didn’t seem to notice. “Who tampered with the projection?” he shouted.

  Through the crowd, murmurs of awe rose up. “It’s the Captain! It’s the Icarus!”

  It was time for me to make my move. I nudged Gaal. “Move back!” I shoved him away to clear a space in the grass. Then I pulled out my gun, flicked off the safety and fired into the ground.

  The bang echoed through the Great Hall, making people jump and scream. People nearest me scrambled back, opening a hole in the crowd. Suddenly, all eyes were on me.

  “It’s the truth, Nathaniel!” I shouted. “It’s what you killed a city for; the truth you tried to hide!” I turned back to the two Iapyx security officers. “Are you going to take me to the stage, or what?”

  On the screen, the Captain held up a binder. “… this report. My clerks have examined every paragraph, and my security people have debriefed the advance force personnel …”

  Eyes were not the only things on me. On stage, Mayor Tuan’s security squadron had drawn their guns, but they weren’t about to start firing randomly into the crowd.

  Before they had a chance to aim, I raised my hands above my head, keeping my gun in sight, and my finger well off the trigger.

  I stepped forward, and Gaal led the way. I felt as though my feet were walking on automatic; my brain could hardly believe I was doing this.

  What if this didn’t work? What if everyone reacted as the CommController had done, with horror and disbelief and inaction? What if I told everyone the truth, and they did nothing?

  Without Eliza beside me, I felt so alone.

  But one of the two Iapyxian officers followed, gently moving people aside as we approached the stage. I chanced a look back at the other guard and saw him rooted to the spot, staring up at the image of the Captain.

  I focused on the Tals. I had to do this. For my people. For Rachel. For Isaac. For Mom. For Eliza’s adopted people. For Eliza.

  Gaal and the Iapyx officer stopped at the stage and I mounted the steps, keeping the gun in clear sight. When I reached the platform, I bent down and placed it on the floor. Then I straightened up. Exposed and unarmed. They could shoot me, but they’d be shooting an unarmed man. I hoped that the confusion wrought by the ship’s log would buy me enough time to speak.

  Nathaniel seethed, but he was surrounded by the Mayor Tuan’s guards, and being held by his brother Matthew. Everyone was shocked into stillness by the image of the old Captain.

  “My name is Simon Daud,” I said, and my voice sounded so small. Even projecting as much as I could, even with the acoustics of the amphitheatre, I feared that I could only be heard by the first few rows.

  But then I heard whispering. “His name is Simon Daud. His name is Simon Daud. Simon Daud. Daud. Daud …” Those rows whispered my words to the row behind, and they whispered to the row behind them, and so on. My words carried on their own wave, out of the amphitheatre, through the Great Hall, even to the rafters, where I saw schoolchildren watching.

  But in the waves of whispers, a word came back at me. “Terrorist? Terrorist?”

  I took a deep breath. “My name is Simon Daud,” I said again.

  The echoes rolled back, louder. “Name is Simon Daud.”

  “And I am not a terrorist. I did not cause Iapyx to fall.”

  “Not a terrorist …” said the echoes. “Not cause Iapyx to fall …”

  I pointed at Nathaniel. “He did, to cover up the secret that you’re about to see revealed on this screen!”

  Nathaniel leaned over and whispered to a young man in grey. He was making sure that no one else on the stage could hear. The young man nodded and slipped quietly away, taking the other stairs. Now where would he be going? Oh, yes. Thank you, Nathaniel, for proving my point. I’ll give you a few minutes so you can properly hang yourself.

  In the audience, the whispering continued. And I noticed something else: men and women in grey uniforms fanning out among the crowd. I saw Gabriel among them, and Grounders from the prison cells. The whispers got louder.

  “This man’s father,” I said, speaking clearly, loudly, “Daniel Tal, committed genocide against the indigenous people of the blue planet we were supposed to colonize. Daniel Tal’s son suppressed all knowledge of this event, and persecuted the people who sought the truth. In trying to discredit them, he sabotaged Iapyx’s anchor, and caused my city to fall.”

  On screen, the second Captain of the Icarus continued his ship’s log. “If nothing else, I can’t leave behind the people we still have on the planet. Maybe when we get there, I’ll see what really happened during Tal’s year-long trip.”

  Behind me, the people’s echoes fanned out. “Tal … Tal … Tal …”

  Then I heard it: shouts and a crash from near the projection room. I rounded and pointed. “See! He’s doing it now, trying to silence our own Captain!”

  The audience turned, and saw a melee of grey uniforms by the door of the projection room. People in the audience shouted. “Stop them!” “Let the film play!” “Let the Captain speak!”

  Nathaniel further proved my point by losing his cool and lunging for me. This knocked his brother, who knocked into one of the guards. Sensing an immediate threat to their mayor, the Daedalon security guards grabbed Nathaniel and held him.

  “This is preposterous!” He shook himself free and pointed at me. “This man is a convicted terrorist! You can’t trust what he says!”

  “You never convicted me,” I shouted. “I was never tried. I never pled guilty. I spent the last seven months in the fog forest, as good as banished. But I survived, and do you know why? I’ll show you!”

  I pulled the black box out of my pocket and held it high for all to see. The light gleamed off the Seal of the Captain of the Icarus. “I found the Icarus!”

  Nathaniel paled. There were gasps from the first row, and more whispers buzzed through the audience. A Daedalon security officer, who had been lumbering toward me with a mean look in his eyes, saw the seal and his mouth dropped open. He actually fell to his knees.

  Through the crowd, the fervent whispers spread. Now the town criers in the back were taking up my words, sending them farther. “The Icarus … Icarus …”

  “I found the Icarus. And I found the truth.” I pointed at the screen. “Those of you out there who helped Nathaniel Tal implicate the Grounders, this is what you were trying to hide.”

  On the screen, the Captain’s log continued. “Clearly, he wants to tell me something, and he doesn’t feel safe telling me in the open. I think I may be closer to figuring out what CMO Tal is hiding from me.”

  Mayor Tuan stepped to the podium. “Look, maybe we can talk about this.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me, or Nathaniel, or just throwing the idea out there. “The boy’s unarmed, and he’s brought alarming new evidence. We should hear what he has to say. In private.”

  But the crowd was hearing far more than Nathaniel wanted. I couldn’t help but smile. People were making up their own minds. Before Iapyx had fallen, the Grounders had started to wonder what Nathaniel was really up to. They couldn’t have been the only ones to ask questions. And not all Grounder sympathizers had been arrested. Some would still be in the crowd, listening, giving voice to the questions in their minds.

  Voices rose. “Let him speak!” “What did you do, Tal?”

  Nathaniel’s face darkened.

  I jumped when a hand clamped on my shoulder. I jumped again when I saw who it was. “Leah!”

  My friend from the flight academy. I hadn’t seen her since she’d come with my classmates to the infirmary. So she’d survived the fall of Iapyx. I glanced at the pilot’s insignia on her tunic, and saw my city’s arrowhead, haloed in black beside the hammer and cog of Dae
dalon. She’d transferred, but she still remembered our old city.

  There was a complicated look in her eye. “Was that you?” she said. “On the anchor? I was flying in. I didn’t have time to land.” She shuddered. “Just before the city fell. I saw—”

  I remembered the daring ornithopter that had flown close just as Nathaniel had jumped. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that it had been Leah.

  I looked at her. I waited.

  “I saw a man and a woman in white,” she said. “I thought the man was you. And I saw a security officer in grey, grabbing a parachute and jumping off. The man in white — was that you?”

  I nodded.

  I could see Leah putting it together. If she’d seen the anchor, she’d have seen what was done to it. And if a security officer had been there to try to stop it, would he have taken a parachute and jumped? Add to that the fact that she knew me, knew I wouldn’t kill my own city.

  But if we hadn’t done it, who had?

  Leah went red. She stormed at Nathaniel, and had to be held back by a guard. “You killed my city! It was you!”

  The crowd shouted with her. I looked at Nathaniel. He looked back, stone-faced. He touched his holster, but he was unarmed. He was a guest, after all; a security chief without a city.

  I wish you were armed, I thought. Go ahead and shoot an unarmed accuser. Prove to the world that you have something to hide.

  But then, flanked by his guards, Mayor Tuan came up to me. “Mr. Daud,” he said. “This is getting out of hand.”

  “Getting?” I stared at him in disbelief. “This is only now getting out of hand?”

  “I promise you a full investigation,” the mayor continued. “I’ll reopen the cases of all the Grounders. I’ll order new trials. You’ve been to the Icarus, Mr. Daud, so I promise to hear you out. But right now I need you to tell the people in the Great Hall that you’re coming with us willingly, to tell us the full story. I promise you full safety and protection.”

  “But Nathaniel—”

  “Nathaniel Tal is still a well-respected officer of the colony,” said the mayor. “Entitled to the same rights you think the Grounders may have been denied. There are proper ways to deal with these allegations—”