You want to know what happened to Katy. That was the true reason, deep down: Charlie couldn't leave for the Fleet until he was certain of her fate. Onero seemed to have access to information others didn't. He would know.
By the time he exited at the Wall Charlie was alone. His bootsteps echoed off the walls as he approached the searchpoint. There were no lines today; it was deserted but for the row of peacekeepers blocking the path. Two of them raised their rifles at his approach.
They checked his palm identification before patting him down, rougher than those at the rail station. He stepped into the cylinder-shaped scanner. The machine hummed to life, berating him from all sides with overlapping metallic clunks. It sounded like a dozen men banging on a metal door with hammers. He suffered the deluge for a full minute before it finally ceased.
Another peacekeeper stopped him as he stepped off the scanner. "What is your purpose in the outer city?" His rifle pointed at the ground, but he held it alertly, tense.
This part was new. "Why am I being questioned?" he blurted.
Immediately the rifle raised, as though Charlie had reached for a weapon. Charlie showed his empty palms. What did the peacekeeper expect? He'd just gone through the scanner.
"Do you resist?" the peacekeeper asked, glancing at the computer on his arm. "This is your sixth visit to the outer city in the last month. Why do you visit so often?"
"I'm sorry," Charlie said, "I was just surprised. I've never been--"
"DO YOU RESIST?"
"No! I'm going to the old city to visit a friend. I want to make sure she's okay after the lockdown."
The peacekeeper's gun was still raised. Charlie wondered what he was thinking, wished he could see the face behind the mask. They know you're guilty, he thought, trembling. It's written all over your face. All they have to do is take a good look.
Charlie was sure he was going to be detained when a second peacekeeper stepped up behind him. "He's on the Exodus Fleet. Probably wants a last hoorah with the outer girls." He pinned an electronic marker to Charlie's shirt, blinking green. "You have an hour of exemption. Make it count, boy."
The first peacekeeper lowered his weapon. "Don't bring back any disease," he said. "Don't need any of that spreading among the settlers." The eyes of his mask stared a moment longer before he stepped aside.
Charlie hurried on, their laughter echoing behind him.
The streets of the old city were as barren as the inner, with only the occasional peacekeeper patrol to indicate any life at all. They glanced at Charlie curiously, but with the exemption marker on his shoulder they did not bother him. Fear hung in the air, a different fear than in the inner city. Not fear of an attack like at the Academy, but of the Empire's response.
Charlie neared the wharf sector, wondering what Onero would say. Did he already know how the mission went, how Katy was left behind? Maybe he would be upset. I'll tell him I was focused on the plourine, Charlie thought. That was the most important part of the mission, what he'd focused on. There hadn't been a way to escape with Katy too.
That felt like a lie. He hadn't even tried. I'm a coward. In the hospital he was scared, terrified of being captured. Charlie never truly considered going back for Katy, not when the doctor was chasing him. He'd left her alone in a hospital bed to be tested and prodded by men who knew she was a Child.
He should have stayed. He should have tried. He should have done more--something, anything but fleeing for the front door.
Around a corner the warehouse appeared.
He stopped. Onero would berate him, point his finger and call him a coward, tell him to leave and never come back--or worse. Coming here was a mistake. He could still turn around, return to the Wall, but something pushed his feet forward anyways.
The outer door opened with a creak. As he stepped down the hall nobody appeared to put a knife to his throat. Maybe they weren't there after all.
He opened the door to the warehouse's large room.
A shape came from the shadows, falling into his arms, squeezing him tight.
"Oh Charlie," Katy whispered. "I knew you made it out. I knew you escaped. The others said you didn't but I insisted..."
Charlie hugged her back, startled. "Katy, what..."
"I was so worried about you," she said into his chest. "The doctors saw you stealing from the closet, but lost you after that. We didn't know if you got the plourine, and then there was the lockdown..."
He savored the feel of her body against his, the smell of her hair, before pushing her away. "Katy, how did you escape?"
"Easy. When I woke up I told the doctors I was working at the Academy when I heard an explosion, and that's all I remembered. The symptoms were the same as those who were poisoned in the attack, as planned. They assumed I didn't know you, that you were some random plourine-addicted student who brought me to the hospital so you could steal drugs." She smiled. "They were partly right."
Charlie didn't know what to say. It didn't seem real--he couldn't believe she'd escaped so easily.
"Did you steal the plourine?" Onero said, emerging from the shadows. "None of this mattered if you didn't."
Charlie nodded. "Two bottles." He told them how it went, from starting on the wrong floor, to the empty closet, to the swarm of injured students who helped cover his theft.
Onero sighed, and broke into a wide smile. "I've never seen a plan go so smoothly. The timing couldn't have been better."
Katy nodded. "He wanted to waste time outside the hospital but I knew we were cutting it close before the students began arriving."
Everything started falling into place for Charlie. "That was why you bombed the Academy? To help us get plourine?"
"Why else?" Onero said. "Did you think it was coincidence that a disaster occurred at precisely the same time you were to retrieve supplies from the hospital?"
Katy smiled. "They'll eventually discover it was me, but that shouldn't matter as long as the next stage of the plan goes smoothly."
Charlie stared. "You planted the bomb?"
She cocked her head. "You were with me, in the ventilation closet on the forty-fifth level. While Jayce was speaking." Her smile twisted. "They'll remember the attack for a long time, Charlie. Ours is a God of fusion. Ours is a God of fire."
"You've done well, Katy," Onero said. "Someday you'll be called a hero." He turned to Charlie. "And you..."
"You lied to me," Charlie whispered. His voice rose as all his anger returned. "You only told me half the plan, kept me in the dark. What if something had gone wrong? I wouldn't have known anything. I still don't know anything. You put Katy's life at risk and made me think the pill would just give her a headache."
"Calm down," Onero said, holding his hands out. "We couldn't tell you everything. Your concern for Katy needed to be genuine. They would have known if you were acting. And it worked, didn't it?"
"I was never really in any danger," Katy said. "I knew you would take care of me, Charlie. And you did."
"I thought you were going to die," he said. "I thought you did, or at least were captured. I've been wracked with guilt waiting for the lockdown to end!"
She reached forward to hug him again but he pushed her away.
"I'm done," Charlie said angrily. "I'll move the plourine wherever you need it but that's the last thing I'm doing."
"Charlie," Onero said, "you don't need to take the plourine anywhere..."
"I need to tell you something," Charlie said. Go, get out now, a voice in his head urged, stop delaying and leave, but he wanted them to know. He wanted Katy to know. "It's about my father. Something has changed."
Onero acted like he didn't hear. "Spider and I retrieved the part we needed. It's in the inner city waiting for you. I'll give you the coordinates so you can pick it up."
He pushed aside the question of how they smuggled the part into the city. "Didn't you hear me?" he asked, furious. "I'm not going to be your errand boy anymore."
That seemed to amuse Onero. "Errand boy. Hah! We nee
ded your help retrieving the plourine, sure, but that's not your primary purpose. You're too valuable for that, Charlie. Did you receive some important news? Something about the Exodus Fleet?"
He and Katy both smiled excitedly. It took Charlie a moment to understand. "You knew my father would be accepted into the Gold Wing? That was part of your plan too?" He paused. "Did you cause that?"
"We weren't responsible for him being chosen," Onero said, "that was just a happy coincidence. But we knew. You are far more important than you realize." Onero placed a hand on his shoulder. "Charlie, you are the next plan."
Onero regarded him with confidence. Katy beamed. Even Spider looked at him approvingly, none of his usual malice showing. I'm the next plan? For the first time in his life Charlie felt truly important.
And it was terrifying.
Chapter 7
Charlie watched in awe as the rest of the Children began arriving. The warehouse room was crowded once they were all there--dozens of them, nearly a hundred, far more than Charlie realized existed in Luccar. He felt foolish for believing Onero's efforts were minor.
Onero stood on top of a table to address them, with the gaping hole in the wall behind.
"The false god's days draw to a close. He who claims to have lived a thousand lives, whose evidence of immortality is strewn across the stars, will soon be revealed as only a man of flesh. And those who worship him and the other stars will weep to know their falsehood.
"There is only one star, she who is a God of fusion. She who is a God of fire. The Emperor and his distant stars are but candles compared to our great mother." He pointed above him to where Saria shone through a hole in the ceiling. "Go forth in her warmth. Go forth as one of her Children!"
Obediently, Charlie moved. Hands clapped him on the back and faces smiled proudly as he strode through the crowd, mechanics and engineers and even other steadfasts. He felt like a king. He felt like a hero, and he hadn't even done anything yet. The adoration of the crowd, their unwavering faith and confidence, washed over him, quelling his doubt. Onero continued his sermon to the sound of cheers and chants.
What am I going to do? he wondered, dazed at the attention. How can I let them down? Nobody had ever given Charlie so much trust. It was empowering, intoxicating.
Charlie was outside in the alley when he heard Katy's voice. "Hey, wait," she said, catching up to him.
He stopped. He was still in a daze, as if none of it were real. Katy's face brought him back to reality.
"Charlie..." she began.
He no longer felt anxious around her. He wrapped her in a hug, feeling her breath against his neck, smelling her hair. "I'll miss you, Katy."
She pulled away and kissed him.
He closed his eyes but light filled them, a brightness that couldn't be blocked. Her lips were soft. Oh, does she taste good. Sweet, like fresh-picked flowers. His chest felt light, filled with weightless air. Any remaining reservations about the mission fell away in her embrace.
When she finally pulled away he was dizzy, light-headed. His heart raced faster than when he was fleeing the hospital. He was glad to see that she breathed heavy too, her face beginning to flush.
"Think of me," she said, before disappearing inside.
He didn't remember the journey back into the city. Her face filled his eyes, her taste on his lips, until suddenly he was exiting the train at the Terminal.
He took the east rail three stops to retrieve the other part of the device. He found it hidden beneath a waste-bin, right where Onero said it would be. It was a metal sphere, the size of his thumbnail, smooth and featureless. He wondered how Spider had smuggled it into the inner city, but after seeing the true enormity of the Children it didn't surprise him. The sphere disappeared into his pocket as he returned to the rail.
He spent the evening helping his mother pack up the rest of their belongings. Finn was mad Charlie didn't meet him at the arcade, but Charlie ruffled his hair and cheerfully told him they would spend more time together on the Fleet. That placated him. The family ate their last meal on Melis, happy to be together.
They left early the next morning before Saria's dawn. Their belongings would be collected and brought later that day, but it was important they themselves began the trip early. Other families crowded the Terminal, the last to join the Exodus Fleet on Latea before the welcome ceremony. The peacekeepers did not search them as they entered.
Up close the Chain loomed larger than he imagined. It was so wide it would take him a full minute to walk all the way around its circumference, if he tried. The car itself waiting at the base was as large as a building, and indeed it contained all the same amenities: three floors with sleeping quarters, cleanliness facilities, and a room for eating and recreation. One of its four sides rested flat against the Chain, connected to the wheels and motors that would pull it along one of the rails into space. The other three sides were almost entirely clear glass, for the passengers to enjoy the view during the two-day trip.
Charlie's bunk was cramped, a rectangle barely wide enough for him to squeeze into, but he didn't mind. He dropped off his bag and returned to the car's exterior common room where everyone was gathered. A representative of the Emperor congratulated them on their selection and wished them a safe journey. Finn thought the man's robes looked more like a dress. Charlie forced a laugh, his mind elsewhere.
Soon the representative departed, leaving the families to mill around. Charlie's father introduced them to his co-pilot, a young woman named Eileen who barely looked old enough to have graduated from the Academy.
Charlie looked around, wondering if he should make friends with any of the other boys. He didn't care to, and instead stood quietly with Finn.
The car jolted at first movement, but soon became smooth as it began traveling along the Chain. Finn and Charlie pressed their faces against the glass. The car was soaring, the ground already diminishing below them. The buildings fell away, and soon they only looked like tiny green squares, very far below. At that speed it felt like they would reach Latea within hours.
Saria exploded into view on the horizon, the sunrise accelerated by their ascent into space. Soon the star was fully visible, too brilliant to watch even through the auto-tinting glass of the car.
Charlie turned his view upward. From this angle he could not see the chain, but Latea was visible just beyond the car's ceiling, illuminated by the sun. It might have been his imagination but Charlie thought he could see the moon growing larger with every second. He could already make out some of the larger craters on its surface.
The Fleet would remain on Latea for two months while the families acclimated before beginning the journey, but that wasn't important. The ceremony that mattered was in two days, immediately after they arrived. Everyone would gather together on the Olitau, the Fleet's flagship, to watch the Admiral welcome the settlers, begging good fortune from the Emperor and the stars.
Charlie reached into his pocket, feeling the two objects there. He recited Onero's instructions in his head. Swallow the plourine, then the metal sphere, then wait ten minutes for the explosion. It was simple, deceptively so.
The hard part was deciding if he would go through with it.
Think of me.
Charlie returned his gaze to Saria, still barely above the horizon. He forced himself to stare until his eyes watered and his only thought was of Katy.
Part II: The Admiral
Chapter 8
Admiral Acteon, His Luminance's Sword, the Torch of Praetar, the Executor of the Exodus Fleet, looked upon the body of his son and wept.
He stood with stiff posture, gazing inside the coffin. Only the upper half lay open, revealing the boy's torso and face. He was dressed in his formal pilot's uniform; clean-pressed white fabric that hung to his hips, buttoned with shiny metal down the front, insignia indicating his rank above his left breast.
No medals hung below his rank. Alard had been too young, only on his first tour. He never had a chance to earn them. Now he never
would.
Acteon had known for weeks, since the message first came through, but that was a cold, formal knowledge. Just words on a screen sent across the star system. Now, with Alard encased here before him, he truly knew. And in that knowledge was despair. Not only for himself and his legacy, but also for the wife he'd kept ignorant, and the daughters that were scattered throughout the system. They would all need to be notified.
He willed his tears to end, for Acteon was not a man to weep, but they would not cease. His guards stood against the wall, arms behind their backs, faces stiffly expressionless. They would not judge him in his moment of weakness, though their presence itched at Acteon all the same. But he would not order them to leave. A show of emotion may be a slight weakness, but acknowledgement of the embarrassment was surely worse.
Instead he bent over Alard's body, inspecting his face. The deathworkers had done well; his skin was without bruise, but lively with color, natural enough that the powder wasn't obvious. In the bright room, illuminated richly and with painted white walls, Alard almost looked alive.
The hair was wrong. Alard wore it parted down the left, and here it was parted along the other side. Acteon pursed his lips. The deathworkers couldn't have known, but Alard's mother surely would, and the flaw would distress her greatly. It would need to be changed.
Doubt suddenly crept up in Acteon's mind. Maybe his son wore it differently. It had been a long time since he'd last seen him. Fashions changed. People changed. As much as he didn't want to admit it, there were other differences. Alard was thicker in the shoulders, and though his lower half was still covered he was obviously taller. Brown stubble covered his jawline, which seemed harder than Acteon remembered. This wasn't the boy he knew. This was a servant of the Empire, trained and hardened.
You did this to him, he knew Joline would say once she learned. He was sweet and innocent and caring, and you sent him off to die. It was an argument long exhausted, an argument Acteon had won. All steadfasts required one year of service. If he'd given his son an exception he would be a hypocrite. How could a man send the sons of others to war if he would not send his own?
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