daynight

by Megan Thomason

  “So, where am I headed? Which of the cities?” Without understanding the government structure of each, it would be hard for me to pick, but there are definitely cities I saw in scale versions that would be fascinating to visit. Hopefully, my travels will be interesting. It’s crucial for my sanity that I find one bright spot in this. Other than being with my family, which will help immensely. I look to Jax, but he just shrugs.

  Vienna says, “I think I’ll leave that as a surprise for now. Only the ship’s pilot and a handful of crew know, for security purposes. I wouldn’t want your location getting passed along to the Exilers.”

  “Okay. Then, how long will it take to get there?” I ask. Can’t I know anything?

  “Don’t worry, Kira. You’ll have suitable accommodations on board and the crew will provide you with everything needed,” she says, before giving me a kiss on my cheek. I smile and put my hand on her arm. I can pretend to be kind, too.

  Of course the SCI will provide ‘everything needed.’ They always do. Everything except a certain and stable future.

  Vienna turns to leave and I’m left standing with Jax. He nudges me. “Well, m’lady. Are you ready for an adventure?” He leans into my ear and whispers, “After all we have things to learn, plans to make, governments to overthrow and lands to conquer. You with me?”

  He offers me the crux of his arm and I insert my own arm. “I do believe I am.” Then silently, we walk together up the gangway to the ship.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Blake

  She wants my answer. Now. Vienna Darcton is nervously shifting her weight between her two feet as she awaits my decision.

  I stand up to face her. “I’m sorry. I have to choose Exile. Although I’ve gained a much better understanding of the SCI and why they do what they do, I still can’t be a part of it.” And now that I have what I need to take you down, I’m going to go convince Doc Daryn and the Survivalists that there may be a way to victory over the SCI without violence. Kira and I can’t pull it off alone.

  “You’re sure of your decision? This means Kira will Cleave to Ethan immediately,” she says. I wince at the vision of the consummation that pops into my head, but even if I stayed I’m positive the end result would be the same. At least he loves Kira and will keep her safe.

  “Yes. I’m sure,” I say.

  “Very well. Curtis will take you outside the city,” she says, motioning to her security guard. I see that he has orange clothing and a backpack prepared for me. “It was nice to have been given a chance to get to know you. I wish you well. Remember to be cautious in your actions. And if ever you change your mind, find Ethan and he can bring you back. Goodbye, Blake.” And how do I find Ethan? I guess, reading between the lines, that she is suggesting I use the Exiler-controlled exit portal to return to Earth and find him at law school, which is where he’ll shortly be. I’ll take her up on that advice. As soon as I have a plan in place and am ready to return.

  “I will. Goodbye, Mother,” I say. Without as much as a hug, she turns and walks away. I guess it would be too much to allow me to say goodbye to Kira. Then again, how would I explain that I chose to take the information she gave me and bolt, leaving her to Cleave to Ethan?

  I’m led out of the solar panels and to a path where two mules packed with supplies await us. I change into my orange attire and put on the backpack. The backpack is at least three times the size of the one they gave Ted and feels like it weighs about a hundred pounds. Curtis blindfolds me, helps me up on one of the mules, and then takes me on what I can tell to be a windy, downward path. Although I have no ability to sense exactly how much time has passed, I’d guess about a half hour, the last ten of which the wind stopped and the environs smelled musty. I realize once my blindfold is removed that we passed over the Eco barrier and nothing happened. They must have deactivated the section we crossed. Why’d it smell so bad?

  “The Exiler camp is due north two miles,” Curtis says, handing me the reins to the second mule. “You only have a couple hours before sunup, so make haste. And, good luck.” He hands me a head lantern and compass, and then turns to leave.

  “What about the mules?” I ask.

  “What mules?” he says with a grin, before heading back towards the city by foot. My mother’s direction to Curtis, I’m sure. She wants me as far away from the city as quickly as possible. Perhaps she does believe my life is in danger. As I watch him approach the Eco barrier I see a ten foot section of ground open. Curtis enters without looking back and I see his head disappear. We traveled under the barrier. That explains the musty smell and lack of wind. The section of barrier closes over him, immediately blending with the surrounding barrier, no seams visible. Amazing. All that work trying to find a way across and the SCI had a way under. They’ve never had to turn off the barrier to Exile folks or send out security details. I stack some rocks ten yards out to give myself a visual clue as to the location, in case I ever need to find it again.

  Time to leave. I have to rack my memories for clues as to the exact route, difficult considering the monotony of the vegetation. Thank goodness for the head lantern and compass. Ten minutes into my journey I hear some moaning and wailing. I follow the sounds until I find Ted Rosenberg curled up into a ball by a Theranberry bush. It looks like Nathaniel didn’t give him mules, a head lantern or compass. As much as I’m tempted to leave him there, I don’t want his death on my hands.

  “Want a ride?” I say, jumping off my mule.

  “Blake?” he says, looking up. “Is that you? Please help me.” I don’t trust him to not steal my supplies and the mules, so I gag him and tie his hands and feet. Then I drape him over my second mule. It won’t be a comfortable ride for him, but it’s better than dying an ignominious death in the canyons. I feel bad about gagging him, but don’t want to listen to his complaints and rationalizations the whole way. I’m in need of peace and solitude to do some thinking.

  With luck, I find the Exiler camp as the sun rises. What I find looks nothing like I remember. There are many times more people living in the canyon than when I lived here. Doc appears to be organizing everyone into teams.

  “What’s going on, Doc?” I ask.

  Without fully turning around he says, “We’re leaving—at nightfall. There’s been a security detail in the area. It’s only a matter of time before they come for us. The Militants stole most our weapons stash, so we’re unprepared to properly protect ourselves.” Then, finally realizing who I am he adds, “What are you doing here, Blake?”

  “Shouldn’t that be obvious from my bright orange attire?” I say, turning around to show off my jumpsuit. “I’m the newest Garden City Exile. I missed your nasty grain slop so much that I got myself booted.”

  “Who is that?” he says, pointing to Ted. “What did you do? Highjack a transport team?”

  “Nope. I picked up this loser on the way. He was Exiled immediately before me. Doc, meet Ted Rosenberg. He’s the guy that betrayed my father and the Militants, and got them all killed,” I say. Ted’s writhing atop the mule, obviously disturbed that I mentioned his shortcomings.

  “Ah yes, I’ve heard so much about you,” Doc says, motioning for one of his men to help Ted off the mule. To his man Doc says, “Dave, take our guest into the cave and get him fed. I’ll be there in a moment to have a word with him.” Dave, a burly guy who’s at least seven feet tall hefts Ted over his shoulder, still gagged and bound, and they disappear into the mouth of the cave.

  Doc turns again to me. “So, how’d you get the mules? In all my years, I’ve never seen an Exiler show up well-stocked before.”

  “Long story. Let’s just say I have a fairy gadmother in the city,” I say. “Shall we see what she gave us?” I open my backpack and the boxes packed on the mules to find food, water, and medicine. And a note from my mother.

  “Dear Blake,

  I knew there was a very good chance you’d choose Exile over a life in Garden City with no guarantee of Kira by your side. Although I disagree with you
r choice, you are my son and I have no desire for you to die. I asked Curtis to send you off with supplies that a royal son would deserve and have had a security detail stock a cave nearby the Exiler camp, which should last long enough for you to reconsider your decision.

  Fondly,

  Vienna”

  “I don’t think you need to worry about that security detail,” I say, handing him the note. “It looks like they were just delivering some supplies for us. Perhaps we should stay put for a while. We have much to discuss.” He lifts his glasses, attached by a chain around his neck, to his bridge of his nose, and reads Vienna Darcton’s note.

  Upon finishing, he hands the note back to me. “I agree. We do have much to discuss. Why is this woman claiming to be your mother and why would SCI security give us food and medicine? Did you negotiate an agreement with them?”

  “Sorry, no. I wasn’t really in a position of negotiation before I left.” I give him the cliff notes version of what happened since I last saw him, including the story behind Vienna Darcton being my biological mother. Doc’s thrilled that I have an ‘in’ with the Ten for peace talks. He’s hopeful that he can use Ted to get as much information about the inner workings of the SCI as possible.

  I refrain from sharing the information Kira gave me with Doc, for now. Any plan that doesn’t involve diplomacy will take a better sales pitch than I’ve had time to put together. We may want to use the excuse to hold talks with the SCI as a reason to return to the city, while secretly being well prepared to cripple the Theran ‘transportation’ system. Doc excuses himself to go in and talk to Ted. I sit at the edge of the canyon and watch the sun rise into the horizon.

  I hope I made the right choice in choosing Exile. In retrospect my decision was pretty rash. I’d been given the opportunity to become an SCI insider. I could have advocated for the Exilers and potentially had access to the city models and portal system. But, the Ten and Council would be watching my every move, expecting me to screw up. And besides, I’m not good at putting on a fake happy face. I’d fail at mock obeisance to Vienna and that I’d just give the Ten further fuel to target me.

  As much as I don’t want to think about Kira and leaving her behind, I can’t help it. She’s likely Cleaved to Ethan by now. Picturing them together, consummating their Cleaving, isn’t healthy, I decide. I shake my head. My choice is made and I have to live with the consequences. I could have decided differently.

  Doc Daryn’s return interrupts my thoughts. He asks, “Is your mother a good woman? Will she be open to talks with us?” he asks. “I’m not getting a whole lot out of Ted Rosenberg. He thinks we’re going to kill him, so is in there bawling.” We both chuckle, knowing that the Survivalists would never execute an Exiler.

  “Well, my mother is a member of the Ten of the SCI, so on the one hand, no. Not at all. But, she did right by me by giving us supplies, so I have to hope that there’s pockets of good—in both my mother and the rest the leaders of the SCI.” What I’m really thinking is that evil that’s taken root and left to thrive will eventually overtake and eke out all the good. At the risk of sounding like my father, I think some weeding needs to be done in the Garden. But instead of killing the ‘weeds’ I like the idea of a work camp. That would humble the prima donnas. “Do you really think we can find a diplomatic solution to our problems?”

  Doc’s wrinkles sink deeper as he crunches his face. He runs his fingers through his long white locks and I see strands of brittle hair fall. Exiler life has taken its toll on Doc. “Perhaps. If they see us as an ally, we may be able to have a positive impact on their policies.” He’s sticking with his spiel.

  “I hope you’re right,” I say.

  “Me, too,” he says as he walks back into the cave. I’m concerned. If Earth’s history is any indication, dictators don’t negotiate. If the talks fail, we will have to consider a more drastic approach. Either way, I’m afraid I’m going to have to return to Garden City.

  Perhaps while I’m there on business I’ll come across a certain girl who I can’t quite get off my mind. Unfortunately, a quite different girl sits down next to me. One that reminds me that Karma remains quite displeased with me.

  “Welcome to sooner,” Bailey says.

  “Shoot. I’d been hoping for later,” I mumble. “Much, much later.”

  She leans in to whisper in my ear. “That’s too bad. I know your plans. And I can help.”

  “How can you help me? Or our cause?” I ask.

  “Well, Blake Sundry… As it stands, you have a fraction of the Exilers on board, right? What if you had the Second Chancers on board?”

  “I tried that and failed,” I say.

  “What if you had a Second Chancer who, say, remembered everything. One that the SCI let slip through their clutches by way of Exile.” My head whips around to her so fast, I pinch a muscle in my neck. She’s so close to me that my lips brush hers, leaving me with an annoying tingly sensation.

  “You remember?” I say. “For how long?”

  “I never forgot. They always say you’ll never forget your first…,” she says. No way. She does have all her memories from before. I suspected, but the implications of the truth have my mind whirring with possibilities.

  “Do you remember the transition? How you came through?” I ask.

  “Every. Last. Bit,” she says as she raises her eyebrows. “People, places, processes. The works.”

  “What’s the catch?” I ask. With Bailey, there’s got to be a catch.

  “We’re partners. Very. Close. Partners. Your daddy’s not around to keep you away from me, so I’m thinking we start over,” she says as she runs her fingers very seductively across my lips.

  “After everything you did to me, you want a do-over?” I ask. Unbelievable.

  “Yes. Yes I do,” she says. “All that ridiculous drama seems worlds away and lifetimes ago.” Touché.

  I turn away and take a moment to contemplate whether I can make a deal with the Wicked Witch of Exile. Can I resume our relationship? Her knowledge can tip the scales in my favor. And it’s not like I’d be cheating on Kira. She’s freaking Cleaved to my brother. They’re probably rolling around naked right now. Bailey leans in and puts her head on my shoulder. My body betrays me as it does a little happy dance at her touch, apparently not having forgotten our little incident in the bathroom.

  She lifts her head back off my shoulder and I turn to her. She’s got her bedroom eyes blazing and is staring at my lips like they’re the blue ribbon winner of a decadent chocolate buffet. When she licks her lips and opens them just a fraction in anticipation, all reason goes out the canyon. I’ll likely add it to my regrets, but what’s one more on such a long list. What happens with the Exilers, is going to have to stay with the Exilers.

  “Well, ok then, partner. Let’s do this,” I say as I close the distance and crush my lips to hers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ethan

  A twenty year old in his third year of law school hardly needs his mom to drop him at school and help him settle, but my mother insisted, she purportedly being worried at how I’ll take the separation from Kira. The separation that she forced nights ahead of schedule. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I am livid. By the time I got home from my meeting with Uncle Henry, I found a house full of armed security detail and a mother with a mouth full of excuses. She didn’t trust that I’d return to fulfill my law school commitments if I’d had that ‘extra and unnecessary’ time with Kira. The farewells would be too hard on both of us. She called me “selfish” and said, “How could you dare consider doing that to your pregnant Cleave?”

  Kira. Beautiful, breathtaking, sexy Kira. I miss her already. Who cares about law school when the love of my life is pregnant with my child? She wanted to consummate our Cleave! Settling in at my desk, I start to pen my thoughts to her with plans to send my letter back with my mother. I have to be careful what I write, knowing that if there’s censor-inviting material, the whole thing will be tossed. My cell phone
still has the picture of Kira that I took the night of the party and many more I took of the two of us together on our ‘vacation.’ I stare at the pictures and consider sneaking back to find her. Unfortunately, my mother won’t tell me where on Thera she is.

  Everyone thinks they own me. Dr. Christo and the Arbiters with their altruistic plans for restoration of original Theran ideals. The SCI wants my help with world domination and Uncle Henry wants me to become an SCI-owned politician. None of their plans interest me. But I stay obedient to stay alive.

  My mother still believes that my non-existent heart condition mars my royal family status, much like a CEO with a few felonies on his or her record would be a problem with the board of directors. Perfectly healthy ‘Original’ progeny means everything to the rulers of Thera. In their minds, all native Therans—those who aren’t Second Chancers—should be of pure Original blood. Anything less dilutes their potential power on Earth. Of course, my progeny will be presumed hybrids, like me. Will my ARB marker be as much of a risk to those babies as a heart defect would? Dr. Daddy wouldn’t tell me.

  My thoughts return to my letter. What I want to write—and what I know Kira wants to hear—concerns my childhood, my real parentage and the vows I’ve made to keep her safe. But I’m forbidden to discuss my childhood because my ‘parents’ repeatedly broke Canon edicts in my upbringing. Amongst other Exile-worthy violations, they had two prominent heart physicians killed on Earth to get them to Thera for my treatment, even though Daddy Christo took over in the end. It wasn’t kosher to risk the SCI being implicated in murder charges over a ‘defective’ Original, but my parents felt their actions were above the law. Taking steps to save my life was as close to an act of love as they’ve ever shown me. But, it wasn’t for me, but to enforce the legitimacy of their seats on the Ten. An unspoken requirement for holding a seat on the Ten is pure Original-blooded posterity.