The Rift Coda

by Amy S. Foster

  “I doubt it,” says Navaa with more than a hint of exasperation coloring her tone. “I don’t think this ability is a splice, but rather an aberration, a mutation taken straight from matter in the Rift. Besides, do you believe that if there was a race capable of controlling Rifts with thought, that the altered Roones would let them live? Hardly. They alone want to claim dominion over the Multiverse. Enough stalling. Clear your mind. Start again.”

  Instead of answering, I do as she has ordered. Arguing only makes this process slower and more irritating. I focus on the sound coming from Ezra. It latches on to my own frequency and serpentines around it. Once they get tangled, it takes a fair bit of work to peel the layers of tones away from each other. I try and try but like a pair of ardent lovers, they seem determined to cling together.

  I concentrate even harder. I clamp down mentally on our two frequencies, which simply will not separate. What I need is something that will break them apart. I pull another tone out from the vault. I don’t know where I heard this one or why it insists on staying with me like a howling puppy. Still, maybe if I introduce it into the mix, it might be enough to push out Ezra’s song.

  I let the third tone in and sure enough, the disruption forces the two tones apart. I mentally grapple with Ezra’s tone. I stuff it inside every cell that I have. I let it reverberate through my bones. This is it, I have it. I open my mouth and begin to hum, but the noise feels like it’s coming out of my chest instead of my throat. I am no longer the one singing this note. The note, Ezra’s Earth, is singing me. It’s using my entire body as an instrument. I could get lost in this noise, this sea of whirling music that overwhelms me. In that moment, my blood is full of millions of spinning planets instead of cells, or perhaps the cells have become the planets. I can’t tell. I am the noise and the noise is me.

  My eyes fly open and I see that I have gotten to stage one of a Rift and not just a neon dot, but a huge wall of green. I want to take it further. I want to scream into the abyss of emerald. I want to punch through it with my entire being, to close it up in my fist until it strangles and turns purple and then black.

  “Ryn!” Navaa’s voice is one of billions. She’s so annoying. Why am I even listening to her? She wanted me to be a Kir-Abisat and here it is, here I am in all my vicious glory. “Ryn, stop!” And before I know it, the breath has been knocked out of me as I go flying up and then back down, sliding along the polished wooden floor.

  “What?” I ask furiously. “You wanted to know what I could do, I was doing it. You didn’t have to hit me.”

  “I pushed you. I didn’t hit you,” Navaa contradicts me. I sit up, my legs are straight in front of me and I stretch my back. My whole body is stiff. I’m not used to going so long without working out, without fighting. I arch my spine and put my hands on the ground behind me and then I spring up slowly, bringing my legs along behind me so that now I am standing once again.

  “I don’t know how you are managing to get so far in the Rift process with the sound blockade intact. I can’t be sure if it’s the human Kir-Abisat or your mystery technology helping you along. Either way, Ryn, it had the upper hand. You cannot surrender to it. You must bend the Rifts to your will, not the other way around.”

  “Fine,” I tell her as I throw up my hands in surrender, “but I can’t anymore today. I’m going for a run. It’s too loud in here.” By way of an answer, Navaa just shrugs her shoulders and gestures to the door. Ezra narrows his eyes at me. His look reads either concern or fear. I can’t tell anymore with him and that makes everything even more unsettling. I need out of this room.

  Getting out of the actual Faida compound, however, is no easy thing. It takes a while to climb down over a thousand steps. Once I’m finally out of the great metal and wooden door shoved into the side of the mountain, I let loose.

  For the record, I am not a runner. I mean, I can run, but I don’t enjoy it, not the way some people do, and I am exhausted, tired to the bone. And yet, at the same time, my limbs feel like downed electrical lines. I am orange sparks and wildfire. I need to burn off this excess energy and since there are no real enemies to fight at this moment, running seems like the best option.

  The forest surrounding the compound is a patchwork of black stumps and bald earth mixed with skinny branched evergreens that reach out with hundreds of needled arms. I run full out, chasing the noise in my head and the phantoms of unripened Rifts. I leap over small boulders and swing from treetops when the terrain gets too dicey.

  I run for hours. Sometimes, when I find myself in an open space, I just run in circles, desperate to burn off this feeling like there isn’t enough space in my own head. I run until my lungs feel half their size and my tongue goes dry. I keep going until what’s left of the burning day melts like a candle, leaving behind the first blossoming tendrils of the evening. Finally, I get a sharp pain in my side, a razor cutting through my guts. When my hips feel like they are about to unhinge themselves at the joints, I let myself fall. I am not an ungraceful person, but I know I am a crumpled heap of bones and flesh and the green camo of my uniform.

  I roll over on my back. Stars begin to peck into the night, tiny pinpricks through the cloudless fabric of the sky. Shit. I have no idea where I am. I don’t have any provisions, either. What I do have, though, is blissful, glorious silence. Either being far enough away from the others has quieted my Kir-Abisat or I have simply worn myself to a point where nothing much is working. I could sleep here. The earth has been made soft from a recent rain. I could just close my eyes and rest and not think anymore.

  I miss being alone.

  But then reality hits me. Everyone would worry about me. The Faida, already doubtful and suspicious, would think me even more frivolous and troublesome. Levi and Ezra would assume the pressure is getting to me, which, all things considered, it probably is.

  I’m starting to feel foolish. Like the eight-year-old who fills up her backpack with gummy bears, a pair of underwear, and a cape and tries to run away from home. There is no getting away from this. The only way this situation is going to get any better is if it gets much, much worse first. I may want to be alone, but I won’t really be truly by myself for a long while. I tell Doe in my cuff to alert Arif with my position and ask for a lift home.

  While I’m waiting, I drift off. I dream about the Waterworld Earth and its skinny stretch of land. There is someone beside me but I don’t want to ruin it by looking to see who. Instead I watch the waves break and feel the sucking of the tide at my feet. There is music in the ocean, too. The surf breathes in and out. Whoever is beside me wants my attention but I don’t care. The sea is endless, both empty and full. I feel a hand on my shoulder. It nudges me and then grabs. When I open my eyes, it’s Arif.

  “You are over eighty miles away from our base, Ryn Whittaker,” he tells me, using a tone that I’m not sure is impressed or annoyed. I am surprisingly relieved to see him and happy to be out of the dream before knowing who it was that I was standing beside.

  “Sorry,” I tell him contritely. I rub my eyes as I stand, expecting him to scoop me up Superman style. Instead, he helps me onto a long metal cage that looks to me like some kind of gurney. I follow the lead it’s attached to and see a helicopter above us. “Why can’t I hear that thing?”

  “It is in stealth mode. You are not the only one with fancy technology, and a hundred sixty miles is rather a long way to go just to pick up an overly athletic human girl child.” I ignore the commentary and I get in the lift. Once I’m in the chopper, I make myself comfortable on one of the plush leather seats.

  For a while we don’t say anything. We absolutely could, because unlike other helicopters, this one really is stealth. I have super hearing and the blades and motor are practically silent. Finally, though, Arif addresses me.

  “You have much to deal with, regardless of your age,” he begins.

  “Is that an observation or a compliment?” I ask warily, although I’m beginning to think the Faida are age obsessed. They keep b
ringing it up, and it’s not like I can do anything about being seventeen.

  Arif shrugs. “It is merely the truth. I want to say something to you, yet I am unsure as to how to say it because it involves inexperience and I do not want to offend you.” I bristle a little at his wording, but he is being respectful.

  “Go ahead,” I tell him as I lay my hands on the slender armrests on either side of me.

  “This boy Ezra, he is not a soldier,” Arif begins tentatively.

  “No, but it’s my understanding that many of your Citadels aren’t soldiers either,” I reply.

  “Not at first, no,” Arif agrees. “But, regardless of what they were before, they were all trained in basic combat and now, well, our Citadels are soldiers first.”

  “Where are you going with all this?” I look briefly out the window, but there is nothing to see but my own haggard face in the black glass.

  “Ezra is untrained and while he is competent enough with computers and data analysis, there are others here who can do this job. There is an unmistakable hostility between the three of you humans.” I blanch immediately. I was hoping that we had done a better job covering up our personal issues. Apparently not. “Ryn, you must know, he does not belong here. Send him home. He is not ready for what will come next, and with all the pressures you are already facing, why are you adding to it? If something terrible should befall him, you would feel responsible and you would not be entirely wrong in feeling so.”

  I don’t answer Arif, not right away. There is a truth and wisdom to his words that would be unwise of me to dismiss out of hand simply because he is the one pointing it out to me. I should have opened a Rift and pushed Ezra through it days ago. He’s not safe here, but he has become a kind of touchstone for me. He reminds me how far I’ve come and how far I have to go. As problematic as he is, Ezra always puts people first and the cause second. One life to him is as important as a hundred or even a thousand. I can’t afford to think that way, but I know, sometimes, that I actually need to.

  “I’ll think about it,” I tell him kindly. I haven’t yet mastered the art of tempering appreciation and gratitude with my position of authority. I’ll add it to my list of things I have to learn in about three days while I plan a Multiverse-spanning war.

  When we arrive back at the compound, Arif flies me up to the living quarters. I thank him genuinely for the ride and head straight to my room. I fill up on SenMach food cubes and shower and change. I’m not exactly looking forward to what I have to do next, but as per usual, what I want is a speck of nothing, a single dust mote among thousands, dancing in a ray of sun.

  I’ve thought about it.

  Ezra has to go.

  I knock swiftly on Ezra’s door. I have no idea what time it is. I didn’t think to look. In a situation like this, a Citadel is never off duty, not really. When Ezra answers, bleary eyed and in his boxers looking a little confused, this point is hammered home.

  “Can I come in?”

  “What is it?” His words come out in a rush, and he is turning the lights on and widening the door so I can enter. “Has something happened?” He’s looking around for his shirt. He has no idea where his clothes even are. Yeah, he has no place here. I sigh, but not too loudly, and sit down on a chair. When he sees me sit, he must realize there isn’t any kind of an emergency so he calms down a little and finds his shirt and jeans on the other side of his bed. He slides his clothes on and then takes a seat on it across from me.

  “What’s going on, Ryn?”

  I let my shoulders droop just a fraction and I look up briefly at the high ceiling, expecting my voice to echo off it. “I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to give it to you straight. I need you to go home.”

  Ezra shakes his head and gives me half a smile. “Look,” he says, “I know things are epically fucked between us, but it’s just not important right now. What happens—or what happened, past tense—to us personally, we can’t let it affect what’s going on here.”

  I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. His words make my face twitch a little, and so I run my hands down it to erase whatever look I must be giving him. “I don’t think you’re getting the full scope—”

  Before I can finish the sentence Ezra interrupts me. “I was so afraid of losing you to Levi that I did the one thing that would pretty much guarantee that exact thing happening. I never should have made you choose. I never should have demanded that from you and I really shouldn’t have had sex with you until we had everything squared away. It was petty of me and I’m sorry.”

  This is the Ezra that I fell for, right here. I don’t know where the hell he’s been, but now he’s back?

  It’s just making everything more confusing.

  “Well, I appreciate your honesty. I just, umm . . .”

  “I love you, Ryn. I will probably always love you, but it was never going to work. I mean, we’re from different planets. I do want to go home—one day. But what were we going to do? Commute? We literally—and I don’t mean that colloquially—don’t belong together.” Ezra might be the only guy in the world to give this kind of speech and use the word colloquial without sounding even remotely pretentious.

  “Okay . . .” I begin, but once again Ezra jumps in and I involuntarily clench my fists. If he keeps talking over me, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep them in check.

  “Let me ask you a question. When Levi walks into the room, what do you feel?”

  I run my hands down my legs. I realize this is a mature conversation. I get that, but it’s all I can do to not roll my eyes. “Nothing,” I tell him bluntly.

  “Come on. You know what I’m saying. When you think about Levi, what do you think?” he presses.

  “I think . . . he’s complicated. I think he’s strong and lonely. He makes me feel safe, I guess, or safer. He’s not annoying to be around anymore, and I think I understand why he was before. He’s smart and he’s loyal. He makes me feel tougher, but at the same time also softer. Is that the right answer?” I tell him in a long and lumbering huff. I don’t like this conversation. I don’t want to be discussing this with Ezra. At this point, how I feel about Levi is really none of his business. Can I just say that though? Is that rude? Or totally justified?

  “Ryn,” Ezra leans over and almost whispers, “that’s love. It just feels different because it’s a different person. It’s so obvious, though—to me, at least. I knew it the moment I really saw the two of you together and how the energy changed in that room, which is why I acted like such a dick. At first I was really fucking hurt and mad, but how can I stay angry about how things went down between us, about the Blood Lust, when all of this is so fucking crazy? I will admit that I wanted to kill him when he hurt you the other day, but I got hurt during your deprogramming and I was okay with it because I knew it wasn’t you. And that wasn’t the real Levi, either. I get it now. So you don’t have to send me away. You and I are going to be friends, good friends, but that’s it. I’m not going to get in between you two.”

  “Wow, Ezra,” I say, rocking back in the chair so that two front legs lift off and hover. “I appreciate the sentiment, but the mansplaining? I could do without that. Why don’t you let me figure out how I feel? How about that?” The chair comes back down again with a hard slap on the floor. I have absolutely had it with the lectures. I admit to being a little behind the curve emotionally, but I’m not inept. I’m not a friggin’ child. “You actually believe that I’m sending you away because . . . boy problems? Seriously?”

  “Oh please,” Ezra says, throwing up his hands. “There’s a lot more going on here than typical romantic bullshit with you two, there’s a lot more at stake. Why else would you ask me to leave?”

  For a moment, I’m absolutely stunned into silence. My mouth will literally not form words. I just stare at him dumbfounded until finally, my irritation kick-starts my vocal cords. “Because there will most likely be a war and you aren’t trained. I feel responsible for you, for
your safety, and it’s a worry that, quite frankly, I don’t fucking need right now.”

  Ezra shoots off the bed and walks over to me, putting both his hands on the armrests of the chair. He holds them firmly in place and bends down so that he’s inches away from my face. “No,” he tells me with alarming finality. He grips both sides tighter and then lets go, spinning his body away from me.

  This is new.

  I’m at a loss once more, while he begins to pace. Finally he says, “First of all, let me just absolve you right here, right now, of any guilt you might feel in the future. If I die, it is not your fault. Okay? My safety is not your responsibility and you need to check yourself.”

  “What are you talking about?” I am genuinely ruffled here. “Of course your safety is my responsibility. Every sensitive file on that laptop, I gave to you. This trip through the Multiverse? That’s on me. Levi might have thrown you in, but that’s my fault, too—I should have sent you home the moment I got you instead of thinking I could just blurt out the truth at Battle Ground and everything would just be rainbows and cupcakes. I should have known better. I should have planned, thought ahead. It was insane to try and think that I could save you and everyone else at the same time. I’ve made a lot of really dumb calls, but that might have been the biggest . . . so far.”

  Ezra stops dead and looks at me disapprovingly with those big, luminous turquoise eyes of his. “You know, I’m the first to admit that I don’t give you enough credit. I was mansplaining because I keep thinking there’s a part of you emotionally that’s still stuck at fourteen when this all happened to you, but you are so much more aware. I can see that now.”

  “Thank you?” I say sardonically because I know there is a very big but coming next.

  “But”—yep and there it is—“I am still not leaving. The altered Roones kidnapped me. They did really fucking horrible medical things, procedures, whatever on me. And then, they threw me in a prison. So I’m not going home. I’m not going to let them get away with that. I’m in this because of them, and it has nothing to do with you. You don’t get to take that away from me because you’re worried.”