The Lying Planet

by Carol Riggs

  “Nah, he was a kiss-up workaholic like you,” Leonard says with a belch that smells like onions.

  I shove down my rising hackles and tell them what Blake said at the Nebula when he was hassling me about the vermal. “I’d love to know what he was doing out there in the woods. I think it’s the key to why he got such a low score.”

  Peyton shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he went into the woods unsupervised is a huge act of rebellion.”

  True. But I want to know, because it might make a difference in my own score.

  We fall silent. The sun beats down on us. I walk Peyton and Leonard to the closest transport stop, say good-bye, and trudge off toward the lake. While it lasted, it was great to get their support and ease some of the crazy pressure inside my head. I really wish Aubrie believed me about this news.

  I skirt the lake, skipping stones and sending rippling curves across its surface. Harrel’s probably done with his morning dairy chores for the weekend, so I’m not sure where he is now—or how he’d react to my tale of alien parents. He and I used to swim here with our friend, Sean, back before I got a girlfriend. We made fun of the raspy calls of the blackbill ducks and chased six-legged, croaking pond-hoppers around. Later, when Aubrie and I weren’t working or doing family things, she and I ate sandwiches here, dreaming of life in other parts of the planet and plotting our escape from the endless rules of this zone.

  Here by the lake, I gave her the Spoken-For necklace that shows everyone we’re serious about each other. A heart engraved with tiny flowers dangles from its silver chain. The scavenger team brought it back from the outer zones, sanitized it, and kept it in a locked display case at the supply station. I earned it last summer helping out a neighbor kid who gashed his leg in a hoverbike accident.

  I frown. That case of special items. I hope it wasn’t a collection of bribes to make the slaves of an alien species try harder to be good.

  So much for feeling like I earned something great.

  I sit on the bank and sink my head into my hands. This is a nightmare. How in the terraformed world did my parents end up being twisted creatures instead of the supportive but hyper-concerned, overprotective people I thought they were? Why is Aubrie pulling away from me? All I ever wanted was to earn a cloudskimmer, leave Sanctuary to explore other colonies, and have her with me. Was that too much to ask? Although now I’m not sure I care as much about going to Promise City with her, considering how she’s acting about Blake and his banishment. It’s almost like she’s heartbroken over him.

  A cluster of gnats swarm around me. I swat at them, stretch out in the long aqua grass, and squeeze my eyes closed. I should be working somewhere, but I just want to curl up and bawl like a preschooler for a few days. Or kick a hole in something. Or scream and rage at the top of my lungs.

  My parents can’t be monsters. They used to tuck me into bed every night. They joked about how much I carried my stuffed bear around and how I couldn’t be a human with roots from Earth because I loved roasted worrel and greshfruit pie so much. They can’t be two-faced liars, all their words and actions just nasty tricks to make me think they’re someone they really aren’t.

  My nose grows stuffy. My chest aches. Yeah, I’m tired of being bossed around, and them acting like I can’t even sneeze without their permission. But that doesn’t mean I want to discover that everything they ever did for me was a lie and had some other ulterior purpose. That’s just…a total punch in the gut.

  I force myself to think of something besides fangs and beady black eyes. Like Peyton’s mournful gaze on Friday, as if she cares we don’t hang out anymore. The way Leonard combs his hair to stand straight up by his forehead. My fingers trailing through Aubrie’s silky hair as I sat with her at zone square last week. Her brilliant smile two years ago on Harvest Equinox, when I chose her to be my sack race partner…the satisfaction of seeing Blake’s furious expression when she said yes…

  With a start, I snap awake. The inside of my mouth is fuzzy. My skin is tight and hot. I sit up, brushing pollen and grass from my hair. Judging from where the sun sits in the sky, it’s late afternoon. I’ve wasted almost three hours.

  I leave the lakeside and walk along the road, not sure where to go. It’s Sunday, and even though the commander doesn’t require community service on the seventh and eighth days of the week, I don’t usually change my habits much. Certain jobs need to be done even on Sunday and Restday. Eggs have to be gathered, cows milked, worrels plucked, pigs slopped. Vegetables need planting. There are always chores and homework.

  On Thursday I have a biology exam, and my novel summary is due on Friday. Insane. How can I concentrate on cell mitosis and book plots when my whole world is scrambled? All I know is I can’t waste any more time wallowing. I have to push on, for myself as well as Rachel and Tammi and my friends. I need to think straight. Find answers. Make sense of my discovery and come up with a plan.

  I take a transport into zone center and get off at the Nebula. It’s time to work, to pretend my world hasn’t been shredded to bits.

  In the kitchen, I keep my distance from the beast disguised as the adult kitchen supervisor. Tonight, that supervisor is Peyton’s tall, blond father. He rotates dinner shifts with Peyton’s mother. I’ve known him all my life, and he looks like he always has—the same large ears, light freckles, and steady-eyed gaze. But now I know the hairy, twisted features that lurk beneath that face. And why he’s always sneaking his stash of beastly broth powder from a high shelf, when he thinks no one’s looking, and inhaling its scent like it’s a tasty dessert.

  My palms start sweating. No. I’ll never get through my work service if I think about things like that.

  I force myself to stir huge pots of soup, haul in a crate of tuber-squash from the underground cooling unit, and help bake a gazillion rolls for dinner. As I remove the last batch from the oven, Konrad Zemik stalks in the back door.

  “You’re late,” Peyton’s father chides, tossing an apron at him.

  Konrad shoots up his hand and catches the apron. “You’ve got plenty of people signed up to help, and I was busy. Dad had me hauling ludmium orbs and stuff.” He throws me a wary glance.

  My eyes narrow. This kid, Blake’s fourteen-year-old brother, has shaggy dark hair and brown eyes. Although it’s no surprise he looks totally opposite from Blake, his attitude toward me is definitely Zemik. Does he know what Blake did to get banished? Hard to say, but it sounds like Lieutenant Zemik is clamping down on his family because of the banishment. Blake’s duties have probably all been dumped on Konrad.

  I almost feel a little sorry for the kid.

  Almost.

  I leave the rolls to cool and hang up my apron. I’m through helping in the kitchen. Before Aubrie arrives to meet me for dinner, I’m going to have a casual little chat with Konrad Zemik.

  Chapter Seven

  I trail Konrad to the sink, my brain whirling to figure out the best way to get information out of him.

  “Hey, Konrad,” I say. “Sorry to hear about Blake. Now that you’re the oldest, I bet that makes more work for you.”

  He tosses me an irritated look. “Since when do you care about either of us?”

  I lean against the counter while he soaps up. “It’s not like he was my mortal enemy or anything.”

  “Right.” He grunts, rinses his hands, and dries them on a towel.

  “Konrad!” Peyton’s father calls. “Soup’s ready to take to the serving line.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming.” Konrad flings the towel down and moves toward the soup pots.

  I grab his arm. “Wait. Do you know what Blake was doing out in the woods?”

  “I don’t know anything about the woods.” He says it fast—too fast—while something flickers in his eyes. “Let go of me so I can work.”

  “I have to find out why he got banished.” I tighten my fingers on his arm. “I’m afraid the Machine messed up. I need to know before my ceremony.”

  Konrad wrenches himsel
f from my grip. “Like Commander Farrow said, the Machine doesn’t make mistakes. You’d better cool it, Lawton, because my dad wouldn’t like to hear how you’re questioning the ceremony or the Board.”

  “I’m not questioning the Board.” I curl my hands into fists as he rushes off. He knows something. I’m sure of it. I’d like to smash that Zemik sneer right off his punk face and force him to tell me what it is.

  I stride into the dining area, searching the growing crowd for Aubrie. Not here yet. But Harrel is staked out at a table near the windows, his solid shape a welcome sight. I walk over and sit down.

  “Hey, Andrews,” I say, sounding as glum and tense as I feel.

  He studies me. “What’s up?”

  “Way too much.” I’d like to know whether he’d believe that spiny, fanged monsters have been posing as our parents. I look into his broad, friendly face. He’s a lot like Aubrie, maybe way too practical to accept something like that. Unlike Peyton and Leonard, he plays by the rules, dedicated to the core. Like me…or at least how I was before my world got kicked out from under my feet. While I crave his opinion, I don’t want him to think I’m delusional and in need of counseling—or discipline.

  “It’s Sunday, man,” Harrel says. “Work’s important, but I haven’t seen you at helioball for a while. Take a break sometime or you’ll burn out like a flamin’ meteoroid.”

  “I guess.” I fiddle with the salt and pepper cylinders on the table, looking away from the concern in his eyes. I’ve been a bad friend the past two years while Aubrie’s been my girlfriend. I hang out with our group, but I haven’t had many one-on-one conversations with him. Awkward words pile up in my mouth as I try to think what to say.

  “What’s new with you these days?” I ask. It’s a stranger’s question. Not one to ask my best friend.

  “Not much. Studying, working, helioball.” He nods toward the Nebula’s front entrance, where Sean and a group of laughing girls are bursting inside. “All right! There they are, right on time for dinner.”

  I take a quick scan of the girls’ faces, and my eagerness fizzles. No Aubrie. She hasn’t arrived with her friends. I hope she’s not avoiding me. She said she’d see me here for dinner. Although on second thought, that was before our argument—before I insulted Blake.

  Fantastic. I’ve blown it. Like I didn’t have enough troubles.

  As the girls approach, I grip Harrel’s arm so suddenly he jerks. “I need to talk to you soon,” I say, my voice low and the words quick. “I’m having a hard time with something and I need your help. But you can’t tell anyone we’re going to meet, and you can’t tell any adults what I say.”

  He frowns, his pale brown eyes narrowing. “Sure thing. Sounds serious. I have stuff Dad wants me to do at home in the morning, but I’ll be mucking stalls and feeding worrels at the dairy tomorrow afternoon. Meet me there around three thirty?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I know I’ve done the right thing. He’s my best friend, and if he says he won’t tell anyone, he won’t—even if he doesn’t believe me. And once he’s on board, he’ll be a levelheaded guy to help us figure out what to do. I stay at the table to keep an eye on the door while Harrel and the girls trek off to load up for dinner. My foot taps out an erratic beat. Still no Aubrie. A few minutes later my friends return in a flurry of chatter, and the warm aroma of baked rolls drifts toward me.

  “Misty, have you seen Aubrie?” I ask one of the girls. “Is she coming?”

  Misty tucks her thick blond hair behind one ear, not meeting my eyes. “Oh, sorry, I meant to tell you sooner. She’s eating at home tonight. Said to tell you.”

  “Thanks.” I have trouble getting that one word out. I’m betting Misty and Aubrie had a private girl chat about how “insensitive” I was toward Blake. I feel bad for the guy, really I do. Banishment is a terrible thing. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like his know-it-all attitude and his past attention on my girlfriend…or how her attention is now on him.

  I get up and collect food at the serving line. On my way back, I see Peyton sitting with some other girls and guys. Her attention flicks toward me and then over to my table where Aubrie is clearly absent. When her eyebrows arch up, mine furrow down. I keep walking. It’s none of her business that my girlfriend abandoned me tonight. A separate, defiant part of me wants to sit down next to Peyton, to be with someone who believes me about the aliens and acts like she cares about what I’m feeling, but I don’t want to publicly ditch Aubrie like she’s ditching me.

  My bowl of soup goes down without my taste buds noticing. I shouldn’t have gone by Aubrie’s unit this morning or said what I did about Blake. Will she forgive me if I apologize? I suppose I should try to make up with her. A distant voice in the back of my brain hisses that I’m not sure I care, and I smother it right quick. We’ve had one big argument, that’s all. I shouldn’t be giving up on us this easily.

  Still, if I tell her I’m sorry, it’d also be nice if she apologizes to me.

  An hour drags by while I force myself to make normal conversation. I finally take a transport home and spend the rest of the evening with Rachel and Tammi. At bedtime I hand out protection pills. To Tammi’s delight, it takes her only one try for her pill to go down.

  “Super job,” I tell her. I don’t mind making sure she and Rachel take their pills. They don’t need to see the frightening creatures under our parents’ skin. I have to find out what’s going on in this zone. For my sisters’ sakes.

  Mom and Dad appear in the bathroom doorway. Dad ruffles my sisters’ hair. “Sleep well, my princesses,” he says, making them giggle.

  Mom shuffles them off to their room and kisses their foreheads. I shudder to think of her vermal snout that close to them. After she leaves, I take my turn with hugs and tucking blankets under chins. When I close the door, I find Mom standing in the hall with a glass of water and a pill.

  “Don’t forget yours, Jay.”

  I pop the tablet into my mouth. As I drink, I keep it under my tongue.

  “We missed you at the gardens today,” Mom says in a low voice, taking my glass. “Dad said you worked at the chicken compound and the Nebula.”

  “Right. Commander Farrow drove me to the chicken compound.” The lump of the pill sits under my tongue like a wad of poison. I try to talk naturally, taking a step back. “I’d like to keep working with the chickens. There are a couple openings since we had the ceremony.”

  Mom pulls the ponytail tie from her hair and rubs the back of her neck. “It’s mostly a morning job. You’d only be able to do it Saturday, Sunday, and Restday. Leave it for someone who has afternoon sessions.”

  “I sort of wanted a change.” I taste a gritty trace, and realize my pill is starting to dissolve. Uh-oh. I need to get into the bathroom, fast.

  “You’re an experienced garden worker,” Mom says. “Dad wants you to help plant tuber-squashes tomorrow. The tiller machine has already prepped the soil. Commander Farrow realizes we need you there.”

  Fine. I’ll force myself to work near her and Dad. I edge down the hall. “Okay, I’ll be at the gardens.”

  “Have you done your homework?”

  “Sure.” I dart into the bathroom before she can say anything else. I lock the door, dash to the sink, and spit out a soggy white blob. I rinse my mouth as quietly and thoroughly as I can. With luck, I haven’t swallowed too much of it.

  In my room, I open my window to let the evening breeze chase out stale air, and jot notes for my novel summary. Then I slip my imprintus slate from the kogawood box under my bed and make sure the light-blocking cover is snug. It’s the only slate left from the three I won last year from having the highest session scores in my training tier, so I’ll only get one chance to make a good image. Even dim light will expose the phosfennic coating and etch what it reflects in shades of gray. It’s an incredibly low-tech version of the cameras and other image-capturing devices Dad says Promise City has.

  After I turn off my lamp, I adjust the blankets and prepare
to wait. Gloomy darkness surrounds me, and the shapes of my desk and clothing cubicle look shadowy and hulking. Occasional clinks and murmurs come from the rest of the unit.

  I hope Peyton and Leonard faked their pill swallowing better than I did. I don’t like any of us taking this risk. If this nightmare is as widespread as it seems and we get caught, we could be banished directly to the contaminated outer zones without being Tested. An intense shiver crawls over me. Or worse, the creatures might kill anyone who learns the truth about their community of human slaves.

  But…would Mom and Dad really let the Board kill me? Would any adults in this zone agree to have me killed?

  No. I can’t imagine it, not even hardnosed Commander Farrow. He’s harsh, but in a fiercely protective way. Mr. Redmond seemed really shaken up after he shot the vermal that attacked me. Dad taught me to ride a hoverbike when I was nine, running down the street alongside me, shouting encouraging words as I took off on my own. And every year on my birthday, Mom cooks my favorite meal, spicy stroganoff served with hot greshfruit pie. They’re so concerned with my progress and improvement they’re almost fanatic.

  My thoughts grow sluggish despite the adrenaline pumping through me. My eyelids grow heavy and…I doze off.

  Waking with a jerk, I listen for slushing voices and hear silence. No murmurs or thumps. No noise except the shrill of fiddlewings vibrating their bug membranes and making their “music” outside my window. With my breathing shallow, I slip to the door and press my ear to it. All quiet. I ease from my room holding the imprintus and creep down the hall while my heartbeat thuds in my ears. When I peer around the end wall, the lounge room is dim, unoccupied. Near the entryway, Mom and Dad’s bedroom door is closed, a thin barrier that hides their evil appearance. I swallowed too much of my pill and I’m too late. They’ve gone to bed.