by K. Makansi
“Who knows? Anyway, Chan-Yu told me to go home, to get ready for work, and to show up on time, like it was a regular work day. At first I had no idea whether I’d made a mistake and had left Remy and Soren in their cell to die, but when I heard the Code Red alarm, I knew he’d gotten them out. I don’t know how safe they are, but I have a feeling Chan-Yu will take care of them. He’s the stealthiest person I’ve ever met. He’s practically invisible. And if he’s with the Outsiders.…”
“Why didn’t you get them out yourself?” Jeremiah demands.
“I went down there to save them, but I had no real plan … and then Chan-Yu … I’d have been recognized at every turn. Everyone would realize I was doing something crazy. No. It wouldn’t have worked. I’d have drawn way too much attention to them—and to myself. It’s better this way.”
Jeremiah stares at the ground for a minute, processing all of this. He goes still again, and I know he’s thinking. I stare off into the corner of the room as the weight of everything that’s happened starts to bear down on me. My mother, a killer, ordering assassinations in the secrecy of night. My father, possibly complicit. Me, a traitor to the Sector, aiding the cause of the Resistance and freeing government hostages. I rewind slowly, see myself aboard the airship flying to the site of the seed bank for the mission. See Remy injured, Soren trying to protect her, Eli on the roof. How surreal it all feels now, how strange and ridiculous, that I should ever have thought it was a good idea to bring anyone into our possession.
“Vale, your mom—”
“I know.” I take a deep breath as the shame rips through me like a rusty razor. “You don’t have to tell me. I can barely think about it.”
Jeremiah looks at me with wide-eyed pity, and I look away, unable to hold his gaze. I’m ashamed. Ashamed of what I am, who I am, what I thought I was. I want to defend myself. How could I have known what they were doing? But I should have been more aware. If the others found out, if they saw through the lies, through the façade, how could I not? And when they all disappeared, one by one, why did I not bother to investigate? And Remy … oh, god. When she disappeared, I was disappointed—no, I was mad because it hurt when she turned her back on me. No wonder she hates me. Does she hate me? She has every reason to. I was ignorant, and I chose to remain that way. Regret smolders in my gut like white hot coals, but I can’t change the past.
“Listen,” Jeremiah says abruptly, jolting me from my personal hell. “We have to figure out the next step. What do we do now?”
I contemplate the question. I can’t turn my mother in. I don’t know what she’ll do to me, but it doesn’t matter—no one will believe me. They’ll say I’ve gone insane. I don’t have any proof, anyway; it’s all locked up on my mother’s computer. Besides, the very thought of testifying in front of a court about the things she’s done makes me sick, especially since I now know what Eli went through. I could tell my father, but there’s always the risk that he’s already privy to the gruesome details, that he’s just as guilty as she is. And even if he doesn’t know, who would he believe—his wife or his son? I could confront them both. As the thought occurs to me, I realize I owe my mother a chance to explain herself.
“I have to talk to them.”
“To—to who?” Jeremiah looks at me, startled.
“To my parents. I have to give them an opportunity to justify what they did. Maybe there’s something we don’t know. Some missing piece of the puzzle.”
“Vale—” Jeremiah’s expression is shocked and dismayed “—there is nothing that justifies cold-blooded murder.”
“I agree, Miah, but they’re my parents. I have to give them a chance.”
Jeremiah leans back in his chair. He’s staring off into a corner of the room above my head, as though he doesn’t want to meet my gaze. There’s another long pause as he furtively dodges my eyes, though I’m trying to pin him down. He’s shifting so much in his chair that I wonder if his pants aren’t being invaded by a large army of fire ants. Finally, he responds, though his eyes are still firmly trained on the upper-right corner of the room.
“Fine. You talk to them. But we need a backup plan, because I highly doubt they’re going to have a good enough justification for the murder of a classroom full of students and the attempted murder of two of our former friends that will make us want to stick around.”
“Are you suggesting we run?” As the concept rolls off my tongue I contemplate it, visualize it, try to imagine myself fleeing everything I’ve ever known. I’ve already made myself a traitor to the Sector. Even by breaking into my mother’s lab I’ve committed crimes that would result in exile to the Wilds. My eyes linger on the Outsider pendant sitting on Miah’s table, and I wonder if that will come in handy sooner rather than later.
“Yes,” Miah responds definitively. “I’m not planning on sitting around and waiting for your mom to find out I know she’s a killer. I’ve never been high on her list anyway. This puts both me and Moriana in danger—if your mom finds out I know, she’ll wonder if Moriana knows too.” He sighs. “This is deep, Vale. I don’t think we can fight it from the inside. Maybe you can, but I’m hardly in a position of power—and at some point, they’re going to figure you out and take you out of the equation. Remember what happened to Soren’s parents?”
“No, what happened to them?” I sit up, shocked. I met Soren’s parents a few times at official government functions back when Soren’s mother was chancellor, and once or twice after that when Soren and I were at piano competitions together. But after a certain point they stopped showing up, and I never saw them again.
“You didn’t know? Well, I don’t really know either. I always thought they went sort of off their rockers—that’s what the official documents said. You know his mom, Cara, was chancellor when SSD201 went raging through the wheat and corn crops and destroyed a quarter of the food supply. That was in ’95, and there was a mini famine. Lots of people starved. Of course no one in Okaria knew the full extent. We had food rationing, but it didn’t hit in the capital as hard as it did the Farms and factory towns. Anyway, the Corporate Assembly gave her a vote of no confidence. She was removed, and an interim head was appointed before your dad took office.”
“I know, I know all this stuff. I just thought that was the end of it. What happened after that?”
“Well, Cara and Odin kept to themselves after that. They went back to their research, and, in public, just focused on Soren. But they kept publishing papers and making little jabs at the OAC’s research, detailing all the negative side effects of the drugs being used on animals and, in some cases, on humans. They also wrote occasional journalistic pieces about the practices used on the Farms. Nothing revolutionary, but I guess the Sector didn’t like it, and….” He pauses.
“And, what?”
“Sorry. I just feel kind of weird telling you all this. Soren never really liked you, you know—”
“No, really?” I say sarcastically. “You think he didn’t like me back then, just imagine how he feels about me now.”
“It was always complicated, Vale,” Miah says, sounding vaguely parental, as though explaining a concept way over my head. “Anyway, Soren said his parents went off for a vacation one weekend, and when they came back, they were just … different. ‘Flat,’ was what he said. Barely paid attention to anything he said or did after that, never criticized him, never responded when he was angry or upset. They were emotionless.” Jeremiah glances around the room, looking everywhere but at me.
“His parents were formally removed from their research positions after that and demoted to lab techs, essentially. The OAC reports said that they were demoted because the trauma of losing power in the government made them biased and unable to conduct objective research. Soren never said anything outright, but now that I think about it, it seems pretty clear that he suspected foul play.”
I stare at Jeremiah for a few seconds, trying to process this new information. Soren’s parents, drugged? Tortured? Lobotomized? Hundreds of id
eas, each one more brutal than the last, flow through my head, and I feel like a hundred pounds have been dropped onto each of my shoulders, bowing me down, crushing me.
“You knew all this?”
“What do you mean? Yeah, I knew all this. Soren told me some parts of the story, and some parts I looked into myself. “
“And you never told me? You never thought about it? Never thought that maybe there was foul play?”
“Oh, and you’re one to talk?” Jeremiah glares at me. “The older sister of the girl you were in love with was killed in an ‘Outsider attack’ and then her entire family disappeared, and you never thought to ask questions?”
“I did ask questions! I talked to my parents, I talked to my professors, I talked to Moriana, I…” There’s a pause.
“You didn’t ever do any actual research until tonight, though, did you?”
“Well, you did, and you didn’t do anything about it!” I say, too accusingly. I try to bite my anger back into my throat. “You actually had cause to suspect, and you just turned away?”
“What was I supposed to do? Go to the Watchmen? The OAC? My parents? With a couple of court transcripts and Soren’s word against the whole Sector?” He’s standing now, leaning across the table toward me. “You think it was any of my business, Vale? Hacking into my best friend’s parents’ mental health records and reading through old Corporate Assembly transcripts when I was fifteen?”
He’s shouting now, and I want to tell him to keep his voice down, but I can’t get the words in—
“I didn’t know what to think, so I kept quiet and kept my head down. And then Soren disappeared, and I had no idea where he went or how to find him or even if he was still alive. So tell me, Vale, what would you have done? Run to your parents?” he says disdainfully.
I freeze. Jeremiah, too, suddenly stops talking or moving, his mouth half open, his eyes narrowed accusingly at me. I can’t seem to think. My mind has gone blank. The contempt melts off Miah’s face as he realizes what he’s said, and he drops his eyes to the floor.
“I’m sorry, that wasn’t—” but he doesn’t finish his sentence.
There’s a long silence as Jeremiah stares at his hands on the table, and I stare at him. The buoyancy that normally decorates his face is gone, and I get a glimpse of what he might look like in twenty, thirty years. My mind swirls as I watch him, immobile, both of us stuck for a moment in time that we want to erase, but cannot. Now, Jeremiah is replaced by images flashing before my eyes: photos of Tai in the autopsy room, her eyes as clear and glassy and dead as water stones; Remy’s amber-eyed stare, angry and questioning, as she turned away from me before slamming the door in my face; my mother sitting me down in our house, telling me in her gentle dulcet tones that the Alexander family had disappeared.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t—” Miah begins again, snapping me out of my memories.
“No, no, stop,” I say abruptly, cutting him off. “You’re right. I was just as blind, if not more, and I—” I stop. Demeter has a message for me from General Aulion. I hold up a finger to tell Jeremiah to wait, and I listen carefully as she relays the words in her calm, low voice, and I’m grateful she’s the messenger and not Aulion himself. She could have just played his recording, of course, but she knows I’d rather hear her voice than Aulion’s. Especially now.
“Valerian Augustus Orleán, the Resistance prisoners, Remy Alexander and Soren Skaarsgard, have escaped. Despite lockdown and emergency high-security measures, they have disappeared. You keyed out of Sector Headquarters at 0302 hours, just prior to a Code Red lockdown. Because of this you are being temporarily relieved of your duties as director of the Seed Bank Protection Project pending further investigation into your role in the prisoners’ disappearance. Report receipt of this message and your location immediately. If you do not report within five minutes, we will issue a warrant for your arrest as an accessory to the traitors’ escape.”
Well, that was fast.
I mutter to Jeremiah something about my boss wanting to talk to me, and I give Demeter the message to send back: “Valerian Orleán reporting from Jeremiah Sayyid’s flat, Unit 244, Building 25 in the Old Quarter. I had no role in the hostages’ escape.” Demeter sends the message off, and not ten seconds later she announces that Aulion would like to speak to me directly. I tell her to ignore the call. “I’ll call him in the morning. Repeat that I had no involvement in the hostages’ escape, and I am currently occupied with other urgent matters.” Demeter actually laughs at this.
“What could be so urgent that you would want to ignore General Aulion?” she asks and then sends off the message.
“So, big news,” I say with a mirthless smile. “I’ve been demoted. ‘Relieved of my duties.’”
“Really?” He looks unsure of whether this is good or bad.
“‘Pending further investigation into my role in the escape.’” I frown. It’s okay, I tell myself. Better that I come under investigation than that Chan-Yu be thrust into the line of fire. “At least this way I’m not helping the Sector anymore. I don’t think I could in good conscience continue to do my job anyway.”
“Well, lucky you, then. A most opportune time to be fired.”
I nod.
“So, when are you going to talk to your parents?” I think about that, but I don’t have a good answer. I’ll have to work up the courage, and that might take a while. I might not even get the opportunity for several days, what with dealing with the fallout from Remy and Soren’s escape.
“I don’t know. But if you’re serious about leaving, I’ll come with you. I may not have a choice with Aulion on my tail. Just let me talk to my parents first.”
“And Vale—we can’t take Moriana,” Jeremiah blurts out. “We can’t tell her.”
“What? Why not?”
“I’m not going to endanger her life like that. She’s got a good thing going here and she needs to make her own choices. Just like my dad told me. And if we tell her, we’ll be putting her in as much danger as you and I are now. It’s better if she doesn’t know.”
I frown, but I know he’s right.
“Okay,” he says, speaking more easily now, “if we’re really doing this, then we should be ready to leave at the drop of a hat. You have no idea how they’re going to react, how far they’ll go to hide the truth.”
“I don’t think they’ll hurt me.” Miah cocks an eyebrow at me, skeptical. “But you’re right. Let’s get our stuff together tomorrow so we can be ready to move whenever we need to.”
Jeremiah grabs his plasma and starts making a list. “Imagine we’re going camping,” he says. “My dad took me a few times when I was little. We’re going to need extra clothes, rain gear, good boots, something to hunt with in case we run out of food—oh, and a good supply of our Mealpaks—and probably a few weapons, too. I’ll count on you to commandeer those for us. It’s not like I’ve got a ready supply of Bolts hanging around.”
I have to resist the urge to laugh. Leave it to Jeremiah to create some comedy from this whole thing.
“And we’ll probably want to take your Sarus, if possible—it’s not bugged, is it?” I shake my head, hoping I’m right. “Great. So we’ll take the Sarus, and we’ll want some blankets and rope, and.…”
As Miah rattles on about the list, I sit back and think about what leaving really means—and the impending conversation I must have with my parents. I owe it to them, I know. But what will I learn? Is my mother really the cold-hearted killer I overheard two hours ago ordering the deaths of two Sector citizens? Or will she emerge from all this with her characteristic political silkiness, somehow justifying her actions? The very thought of confronting them, of judging them and demanding they account for themselves, brings a lump to my throat like I’ve swallowed an old chunk of coal. I blink back the tears and lean in. Like Miah said, it’s time to plan for what comes next.
21 - REMY
Fall 91, Sector Annum 105, 03h34
Gregorian Calendar: December 20
The POD moves with smooth efficiency as Chan-Yu looks out the window, and I look at Chan-Yu. He has the kind of face you wouldn’t notice unless he called attention to himself. He has narrow eyes, a square jaw, and high cheeckbones, vaguely reminiscent of Asian heritage. He’s not attractive, but he’s not unattractive either, just sort of nondescript, the kind of man who could easily fade into a crowd without notice. I try to gauge his age and guess he must be about twenty-five or twenty-six. He’s compact, shorter than Soren, but he radiates quiet strength and confidence, like the unnerving calm before a summer storm. A million scenarios swirl in my head, and it’s all I can do to keep quiet. I glance over at Soren. His leg is vibrating up and down like it’s on a spring, and it’s clear he’s about to jump out of his skin if we doesn’t get answers soon.
Without warning, Chan-Yu reaches out and pushes the emergency STOP button, and Soren and I are thrown forward as the POD lurches to a halt. The door slides open silently and Chan-Yu stands up and shoulders his pack. We do the same and follow him as he jumps down onto the rail path. I wince as my leg wobbles when I hit the ground. He punches in a code, and we watch as the POD starts moving again, continuing its way down the line.
“That was just a way to get us out of the headquarters quadrant fast. Sector drones and soldiers will be searching the PODS line, so we have to move. I know you’re tired, but I hope you have enough in you for a short run.” Soren and I nod brusquely—what choice do we have? I grit my teeth against the ache in my leg and follow our rescuer as he takes off at a lope toward a darkened side street.