Instead, I tightened my jaw against the imbalance of reality and forced myself to remember my purpose. He was awfully friendly, and I was pretty sure the information he’d just given me would upset more than a few people. And experience had taught me that nothing was free. Least of all information. “Why are you telling me this?” I asked sharply.
Charles raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Ambassador, my Ark has yet to develop an opinion regarding the Remnant’s bid for status. We may support you, and we may even be prepared to express that support to the Imperial this very evening.”
“And in return?” I asked.
“In return, should the situation in the Nouveau-Louvre ever come to light, we expect to avoid any sanctions from the other Arks. The children are to be counted as citizens, in full recognition of the Treaty of Phoenix, and our share of trade credits will be adjusted accordingly.”
“You’re worried about being punished for saving babies?”
Charles adjusted his tie. “Not for myself, as such. My concern runs to the children, you see.”
“You have my word,” I said quickly. “No matter what you do tonight.” Of all the impossible things I’d seen or heard since leaving Earth, this was the one that pulled on me the hardest. It was as though I were suddenly, inextricably, bound to the European Ark. I’d once felt the same about the Remnant. I recalled the rushing wonder of my first weeks there and was again hit with the staggering hopefulness of a community reckless enough to save as many lives as possible, in spite of the consequences.
He appeared surprised.
“Thank you, Ambassador. I’m sure it won’t come to that,” he said. “But I am glad to hear it, all the same. And you may as well know, we kept a few of the paintings, in the end.”
“Well,” I said, breathing normally at last. “Where did you put them?”
“Why, we lined the ceilings, of course!”
“What about the art you didn’t take? What did you do with it?”
“Ah, but that is my favorite part!” Charles exclaimed. “In the end, we saved them all!”
“So, you scanned them?”
“Well, we did that as well,” said Charles. “Every Ark has a significant amount of storage on the servers of every other Ark, and we used ours to save our books and music, treatises and things of that nature. And of course, copies of the art, right down to their very molecules. But that’s still not the best part.
“The originals were also saved! We constructed a cube. It’s many stories high, vacuum-sealed, with indestructible walls, and it is packed to the gills with the great works of human history, right down to the last Greek sarcophagus.”
I felt my smile stretch to a grin. “You’re kidding.”
“In fact, there are five such cubes,” he said.
“Like the Arks,” I said. “So, where are they now?”
“Who knows? We left them on Earth, in the hopes that one day, the archeologists of the future will find them. They each emit a signal, with enough power to last ten thousand years. One way or another, Ambassador, art will survive.”
I thought of the pieces of Earth, trapped in eternal orbit around the sun, and for the first time, the tragedy of the image was tinged with an impossible hope. Archeologists. A return to the first home of our species. “That,” I said, lifting my glass once again, “is what we should have toasted the first time.”
“To art, Ambassador,” he said, and touched his glass to mine.
“To art,” I agreed. “And nappies.”
At last, Isaiah found me. He nodded a greeting to Charles. In the overhead pod, the musicians took up their instruments and began to play. He turned to me and held out a hand, leading me away from my companions, who bid me a warm goodbye. Isaiah’s hand was warm, too, and I was full of hope for the future.
We danced.
It was a tango, long and slow, and my robe slid around me like a snake in water as I moved in Isaiah’s arms. His grip on my waist was solid through the slippery fabric.
The dance ended before the spell of silence was broken between us, and instead of speaking, Isaiah lowered me into a slow, steady dip. His face leaned in towards mine, and I thought for a moment that he might kiss me.
Instead, I gasped, breaking his grip. “What—”
The blond-haired, blue-eyed figure to our right stepped forward, but his assistance was unnecessary. Against all odds, Isaiah set me back upright without tripping, and gracefully released me from his grip.
Blue eyes. A slightly crooked smile on a perfectly square jaw. A voice downloaded directly from my dreams. “Charlotte. Mr. Underwood,” he said, and, taking note of my open mouth, “Well, thank goodness we’re all here. I was beginning to worry this would be awkward.”
I remained at a total loss for words, but Isaiah was as collected as ever. “Eren Everest,” he said calmly. “So good to see you again.”
Thirteen
The two men squared up to each other, shades of anger and grim resignation riding the current between them. “I really can’t say I share your sentiments,” Eren said at last. Then, turning to me, he smiled. This, in combination with the blue-eyes-and-square-chin thing I was already dealing with, effectively stopped me from breathing, let alone speaking.
Again, Isaiah was unfazed. “Thank you for the dance, Ambassador,” he said to me. “Good luck this evening. I really should find Shan.”
I stared at Isaiah, unable to process that Eren was here, and safe. And here. My hand reached out to Eren even as I struggled to respond to Isaiah. “You’re leaving me?”
“Why, Miss Turner. Do I detect a hint of jealousy?”
“I—of course not. Actually, I was just—”
“You kids have fun,” Isaiah said, and disappeared into the crowd.
Eren and I turned to each other.
“Charlotte,” he said simply.
I tried to think of something to say, but the only strategy my brain could offer up was to wrap myself in his arms as soon as possible. Something behind the warmth in his voice made me hesitate.
“How are you?” he said softly, as though the cavernous room held only the two of us. As though we weren’t surrounded on every side by dancers, musicians, and dignitaries. “It’s been, what, six weeks, and that … Isaiah wouldn’t tell me any—whoa, hold on there.”
Six weeks of separation, and all I could think about was pressing my face into his neck hard enough to feel his pulse in my teeth.
Instead, I found myself unable to get anywhere near his neck, let alone his pulse. His hands were clasped against my upper arms, pinning them to my sides and holding me away from him. “Steady there,” he said softly. “We’re in the middle of—”
“I do not care,” I said, finally finding my voice, “where we are, or what they’re all thinking right now. I don’t care.”
He concealed a smile. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene right in the middle of your first diplomatic mission, would we?”
“Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“Trust me,” he said seriously. “You don’t want to do this here. Not yet.”
Something in his tone made me take a step back and relocate my self-control, if only temporarily. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Nothing yet. You hungry?”
“My stomach has digested itself. My ribs are starting to dissolve.”
He smiled. “Why am I not surprised? Come on. Let’s hit the tables.”
“Great. I have a whole plan worked out,” I said eagerly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, we’re starting at the cheese and working our way out from there. And then you’re going to tell me what’s going on and why you’re acting like we aren’t—”
He gave me a solemn nod. “Cheese, then. I’ll help you carry your plates.”
“Plates?” I said, noticing the hint of a smile behind his eyes. “No, stop it,” I pulled away from the hand he’d placed on my lower back, a feat far more difficult than it sounds. “Are you
making fun of me?”
He swept an arm toward the closest cheese tower and held the other hand up to prove he wasn’t touching me. “I’m not not making fun of you.”
I drew myself up to my full height and brushed past him. “I can carry my own cheese plates, thank you.”
In the end, I piled a single plate high with as much cheese and dignity as possible, and Eren did the same. We decided to sit in the twilight section of the party, since neither of us had explored it yet. He settled in and watched me eat, an amused expression on his face.
“I didn’t peg you for a dancer.”
“Cotillion classes,” I said, as daintily as possible through a mouth full of honeyed brie. “Raised by a senator, remember? Also, Isaiah and I took a class together once.”
“In juvy?”
I frowned. “In the Remnant. They’re into all that stuff.”
He gave me a questioning look.
“You know. Art, learning. Dance classes every night. You don’t have to look like that. It’s not so bad.”
His amusement faded half a shade. “Agree to disagree.”
I changed the subject. “So I was thinking dessert next, and then more cheese. No, wait. Seafood. Then cheese.”
“Say no more,” he said, standing up.
“Don’t skimp on the chocolate,” I called after him, then added an embarrassed “please” as an afterthought.
He raised a hand to his heart in mock-offense. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ambassador.”
I watched him go, then sat for a moment in the near-darkness. There were pinpoints of light directly above my head, and beyond that, the sky outside the porthole made for an impressive ceiling. The musicians swung through the scene, beautiful and unobtrusive, now playing something closer to pop than classical. The floor was full of dancers. It was, undeniably, the coolest place I’d ever been.
I’d been on board this Ark for a few hours, and I was sure I’d found at least one ally. I was out of jail and, most notably, I had not been executed yet. And of course, I was with Eren.
It should have been the best night of my life.
So what was going on with him? Why didn’t he want to hold me? Six weeks ago, our feelings for each other had been unambiguous, and after all, I was the one who’d secured his release from the Remnant’s prison. Nothing had changed, right?
I wondered exactly what Isaiah had done to him. Surely his feelings toward the Remnant hadn’t gotten in the way of his feelings for me, had they? I made up my mind to force the conversation, one way or another. Just as soon as I’d finished eating.
He returned, and again, the sight of him took my breath away.
“So,” I began.
“Not yet. Just eat. And why are you so hungry? Are they not taking care of you?”
“Eren, I’ve been in prison for six weeks. They took care of me fine, but it’s not like you get artisanal cheese towers on lockup. Or literally anywhere else.”
“They kept you in jail?!”
I set down a pastry and dusted my fingers in the air, holding my hands away from the robe. “I betrayed them, remember? Noah Board, dead guardians, Command prison. Ring a bell?” I picked up the seafood, but my appetite was significantly lower, whether from the cheese or the conversation, I wasn’t sure.
“Did he—did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine, Eren. Really. I’d be even better if you’d tell me why you’re acting so weird.”
“I’m not acting weird. But I do need to talk to you.”
I put my plate down. “You don’t say.”
“We can’t just disappear right away. We need to pick the right moment.”
“Why’s that?”
“Just trust me. Want to dance?”
“Not really. It’s like being on display. It’s weird.”
“How about right here?” He pulled me up, finally letting my hand rest on the back of his neck, and swayed me around as though we were dancing. But the music was lively, and we were barely moving, and certainly not in rhythm.
That was likely my fault. His hand was around my waist, millimeters from my skin, and warm through the robe. It was hard to focus on anything else.
“Charlotte Turner,” he said quietly, as though he still couldn’t believe what he saw.
I angled toward him slowly, so that my lips were ten inches from his, then six, and wrapped another arm around his neck. But when I pressed in closer, he stepped back, stopping me again, and glanced around the room.
Flames bit my cheeks, and I pulled my arms away. “What the heck, Eren!”
“Not here, Charlotte. Have a little self-control.” His face was inscrutable, except for the barest hint of a smile behind his eyes.
“Are you… laughing at me? Wait a minute, are you enjoying this?” I whirled around, stalked out of the twilight area, pulse still racing. Maybe Eiffel could introduce me to the inventor of the chocolate fountain, or something.
Eren followed, barely concealing his laughter. “All right, Turner. You win. Let’s get out of here. The only thing my father ever taught me about diplomacy is this: the important stuff never happens at the official shindigs.”
“Shindigs, huh,” I said, my voice a bit sharper than I intended.
“It’s a real word,” he said.
“I know it’s a real word. Just not the one I was expecting.”
His face turned serious, and he leaned toward me, still careful not to kiss me. “Come with me to the balcony,” he whispered.
I trotted after him, letting my fingers find his, letting him lead me. “Balcony? On a spaceship? That’s a little more of an adventure than I’m looking for right now, to be honest.”
“Well. Wait till you see it.” He pulled me out of the ballroom and through a papery divider. There was a small white staircase built into the outer wall of the ballroom, before the start of the spiral, leading to the ceiling over the dance floor.
I wasn’t in the mood to watch people dance, but it looked like a great place to be alone with Eren, so I hopped up after him.
He stopped me when we got to the top. The landing ended in a large rim that stuck straight up toward a massive overhead porthole. I looked around and saw a series of chairs lining the rim. They lay on their sides, like a hundred bicycle spokes, with their backs toward the stairs we’d just climbed.
“This is kinda trippy, if you haven’t done it before,” Eren warned.
“Done what? OH,” I shouted, planting my hands on the floor.
A man was standing on the rim. Not the edge of the rim, the side of it, and he was walking around. A woman in a long blue robe swept toward him, taking his arm.
Sideways.
“The edge of this thing is kind of like a microgenerator for the grav simulator. So they made it into a big round deck and called it a balcony. It’s a great place to see the stars, actually. They say the Imperial comes here all the time when he needs to think. Here, take my hands.”
I complied, perhaps a little too eagerly. Something in the back of my mind noted that he had a bracelet like mine. That made sense, I thought, before dismissing it. He’s one of Central Command’s envoys, so he was here as a diplomat, too. Of course the Imperial would require a k-band from the other delegations.
“That’s it. Now just step. Don’t think about it too much. It’ll catch you.”
He peeled me off the floor and helped me onto the “balcony,” which was shaped like the neck of a mason jar, and the entire party was inside it. Eren was right; it was trippy. I’d have lain flat if I thought it wouldn’t upset him. The gravity did indeed catch us, and whether I wanted to or not, I was soon sitting sideways, oriented so that the woman in the blue robe could look me in the eye. I remained glued to the floor. I could still feel the faint pull of the gravity in the staircase, too, so I thought maybe I’d just stay put for a good while.
The lady came over to me. “It will pass,” she said, with a faint accent.
“Don’t be scared.” Her escort nodded sympathetically
. “If you’ve never been afflicted with the Lightness by now, it is extremely unlikely at this point.”
“The Lightness?” said Eren.
“It’s what they call it when you can’t stand being in space anymore,” I said weakly. “Apparently, it happens on every Ark, but that’s what they call it here.”
He led me to a chair out of view of the staircase, which, from my current perspective, was now sideways. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. And him.
After a while, I was well enough to stand, and we took a cautious stroll around the perimeter of the ballroom. There was the wall lined with chairs on one side, the balcony beneath our feet, and on our other side, the stars, safe behind several feet of plexiglass.
So many stars filled the vast blackness of space. I felt cold.
“Was that the Lightness?” I wondered out loud. “Not too bad. I feel fine already.”
“Didn’t look like it, from what I’ve heard on our Ark,” said Eren. “I don’t think we have a name for it, but it gets pretty rough. Maybe you just had a small attack.”
I shook my head and leaned closer to Eren. We didn’t bother walking any farther around; we just stood. The sky stared back at me, and I couldn’t help wondering how many other humans could see the stars at that moment. Almost no one on the North American Ark, of course, with our spinning doughnut shape. And not too many people on this Ark, either, since only the outer spiral could have windows, plus the top and bottom layers. It hit me that space extended out in every direction, with no real up or down at all. I pictured a room on the bottom level, with a window instead of a floor, and felt dizzy. I certainly hoped whoever lived there could handle it better than I was.
“Do you think we’re going to make it?” I asked.
Eren knew exactly what I meant. “To Eirenea? Yes, I do.”
He was quiet for another moment, then spoke again, as steadily and confidently as he had in my memories. “I believe that peace is not only possible, it’s inevitable. My father disagrees, certainly, but I know we’re going to make it. Maybe not this year, but eventually. We’re going to colonize that planet. The human race will survive.”
The Remnant Page 9