by S. G. Basu
“Explain? The benefit of doubt?” The two girls shrank closer to each other in alarm as Uncle Alasdair thundered. “After she crippled and almost killed me, you want me to give her a chance? Had she not betrayed us that night, we would have had a fair chance at the Exchange. Today, our futures wouldn’t be property of those Xifarians.”
He had stopped, but only to catch his breath. “She not only let me down, but the entire planet as well. She sold the life of every man, woman, and child on Tansi to the Xifarians.
“And do you know how that came to be?” Uncle Alasdair continued his bitter rant. “All because of you. You had to send her to that Xifarian Academy because nothing in our world was good enough for her. They gave her ideas to turn on her own people, slaughter her own brother.”
Maia had not understood why everything around her suddenly turned cold. She vaguely felt Sana shuffle closer.
“We never had a chance at the Exchange anyway.” Dada’s reply was barely a whisper.
“That doesn’t make everything right.” Uncle Alasdair sighed loudly. “How can you keep denying that she was ready to kill me to prove her new allegiance?”
“Because I don’t believe that,” Dada said stubbornly. “She must have not recognized you. It’s possible, with all that was happening at the Parliament that night—”
“No,” Uncle Alasdair yelled. “It is not possible. She looked into my eyes and then she struck me down. I could not even raise an arm to defend myself, I was so shocked. And you know what? She wouldn’t have spared you either if you had crossed her path that night.”
When he paused, the silence was absolute. Then Uncle Alasdair spoke again, his voice cold and distant. “I’m tired of seeing you take your daughter’s side even though you know how I suffered because of her actions. I will end this now, Father. I will stay away until you are ready to accept the truth as it is, and not as you would like it to be.
“And please, I beg of you, let Maia choose her own destiny. Just because she’s Sophie’s child, don’t force her to walk the same path.”
Everything turned into a blur.
Uncle Alasdair had flung the door open and strode outside. He stumbled to a halt at the threshold, his eyes sad as they looked into Maia’s, his hand trembling as he ruffled her hair. Then he took Sana’s arm and walked away. Dada hung his head when Maia crept into the room. He looked shattered, a mere shadow of the man she revered.
“My mother?” Maia managed to whisper. “Sophie is my mmother?”
Dada hugged her, fiercely, as if afraid she would vanish if he let go. Maia wanted to rejoice. The dream was a dream no more, she had found family. But there was no joy, only . . .
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because this burden . . . you’re too young for it,” he had said, his gaze not meeting Maia’s as he pleaded for sympathy for her mother, his Sophie. “Maia, all that Alasdair said . . . we don’t know enough to be sure.”
There was no joy, only the burden of shame.
His drooping shoulders bore the story of his loss and of the tragic truth that was a part of Maia’s inheritance. That evening, hiding alone in a shadowy corner of the lonely, silent house, Maia had pledged to mend the lives Sophie’s act had torn apart, to bring father and son back together. In the week that followed, after Uncle Alasdair severed all ties with him, Dada had moved to Appian. That was five years ago.
Maia forced her eyes open and stared up at the sky, seeking solace among the steadfast light of the stars. She felt exhausted; her chest hurt from a dense, crushing pain that was spreading up her throat. Thinking about Sophie always made her feel that way. She leaned her head on the windowsill, closed her eyes, and inhaled a lungful of the chilly evening air, hoping to drive out the numbing sadness that engulfed her.
7: Taken
A strange feeling of breathlessness, as if the air around her had been yanked away by some invisible force, woke Maia from the fitful slumber. She heard Bander and Jolt whinny and Herc make soothing noises to calm them. Instinctively, Maia peeped outside to take a look.
“What’s wrong, Herc?” she asked anxiously.
“Felt a pull ’n my chest. Bander ’n Jolt might’ve felt it, too,” Herc sounded a bit nervous. “Don’ worry, miss. We’ll be home soon. Jus’ passed the turbines.”
No sooner had she settled back into her seat than a bright flash of light sped past the carriage; the turbulence that followed nearly flung the coach off the road. The horses reared, the wagon wobbled precariously, and Herc grunted, swore, and labored to control the frightened animals. Inside the carriage, a bunch of packages tumbled over a dazed and shaken Maia.
“You all right, Herc?” she shouted, pulling herself out from under the small pile of boxes.
“Yes, miss,” Herc replied, panting to catch his breath. “What ’n the name of the Troughs was that?”
“A motor carriage, maybe?”
Maia did not know what made her say that. Not only had she never heard of any motorized vehicle in Shiloh or Appian, she had not seen one since leaving Miorie five years ago. Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and Maia sincerely hoped that they would reach home before it crossed their path again.
The horses pulled through the gates with deliberate slowness after what seemed like eternity. As they came to a stop in front of the house, Herc burst into a loud and rather incoherent barrage of expletives. A little more curious than surprised at his sudden agitation, Maia scampered down in a hurry, and when she walked around to join Herc, the reason for his flare-up became swiftly apparent.
Shining ominously in the cold moonlight, parked between the house and the stables, was a sleek, tapered vehicle made of a dark, gleaming metal. It looked unfriendly as it sat on the ground—the windowless body almost as long as the porch and about half as tall, bulky pipes that looked like exhaust vents running along the sides of its flat bottom. The silent, stealthy presence of the vehicle was menacing, like an omen of doom.
Xifarians? The word crept slowly into Maia’s mind and an unknown terror swept through her heart. “Dada—”
She sprinted into the sitting room, followed by a grumbling Herc. It was beyond the hours of light, and a lone candle burned on the corner table, casting long shadows of the furniture on the walls and the floor. Dada sat in his favorite high-backed armchair with his feet in front of the fire. He turned around and smiled as they entered.
“Dada.” Maia took a few hesitant steps toward the old man. “What’s that thing outside? It almost killed us on the road.”
“That thing is a Velocicraft, my dear child.” The bright voice came from the chair next to Dada’s. A little man with a bald head emerged from behind it. His black jacket was buttoned up to his throat; its high red collar circled his neck closely, and large gold buttons with an inlaid design ran down from just below his collar to the middle of his body. The uniform made him look like Uncle Alasdair except that he had less hair, he was shorter, and he was smiling.
“I am sorry if we endangered your vehicle on our way here. That was definitely not our intention.”
“This is Principal Pomewege of the Xifarian Defense Academy. He has been on the lookout for participants in the new Alliance Initiative,” Dada explained, holding up a piece of paper that looked similar to what Kusha had shown her. “After seeing your talents this afternoon, he has come here with a proposal.”
So, this is what a Xifarian looks like . . . Maia stared intently at his eyes, searching for their telltale incandescence, but found none. Maybe they have discovered a way to disguise the one tangible difference between their peoples, she thought, frowning.
“That was an incredible show, dear,” said the little man, still smiling. “As I understand, you have not had any formal training in a while.”
They were talking about her flight with Kusha, Maia realized with a start. She turned to explain, but Dada spoke again before she could.
“You’re being offered an entry into the contest. Principal Po
mewege wants you to join the other participants from this sector,” he said as he rose from his seat and walked toward her.
“But, Dada, how can I?” Maia yelped. She was almost certain that Dada had jumped at this chance and the thought annoyed her. “I’m leaving for ThulaSu in two weeks. I don’t have the time to get into some contest.”
“That’s exactly what I told the principal, Maia. I’ve also told him that I wish for you to attend ThulaSu.” Dada’s reply was unexpected. It startled Maia as much as it seemed to agitate the principal, who frowned, shook his head, and hastily rose to his feet again.
“You cannot be serious, sir,” the little man exclaimed, his voice booming in short, excited spurts. “She is quite gifted. You should have seen her do the Spirals today. Even my protégé was impressed by the display. Actually, he was the one who spotted her.”
He looked over his shoulder toward the shadows.
Maia followed his glance. She saw the darkness move, ever so faintly. A tall figure stood with his back against the wall. The dim silhouette did not offer the courtesy of a reply.
Principal Pomewege continued. “He is a prodigy himself, mastered the Spiral when he was only ten. He knows talent when he sees it.”
“I do realize that she’s very capable,” Dada replied in a spent voice as he walked back toward the fireplace, “but I still don’t wish her to be pulled into something she doesn’t believe in.”
“You must be out of your mind, sir.” The little man sounded flustered. “I think you are being selfish, not showing her the best path to nurture the gift she has. You do know that under the terms of the treaty, we have the right to force her to serve the Republic? Do you realize that we could just take her away right now and you could do very little to stop us?”
Maia flinched at the hurtful words the little man spewed out without a care. When she saw Dada’s gaze waver and drop to the ground, she could not bear it anymore. She stomped over to her grandfather’s side and wrapped her arms resolutely around his.
“If you want to arrest me, then do so. But you can’t talk to my Dada like that. You will not stand in his house and threaten him.”
“And you shall be respectful when you talk to the Principal of the Xifarian Defense Academy,” the harsh interruption came from the shadows. It was a very young man, she surmised from the voice, but one full of conceit and unbridled authority. His retort jolted Maia for a moment, but it was the sight of his glowing eyes, a pair of smoldering dots that had almost erupted within the darkness, that was truly unsettling. However, she recovered quickly as a wave of anger rose through her.
“I don’t care who or what you are. I’ll not sit quietly while you disrespect my Dada,” she said with as much strength as she could muster.
“You are such an ungrateful person. But then, I should not have expected any better from your kind. Learn to be a little more thankful for the charity we are extending to you,” the young man hissed as he stepped out of the darkness.
The first thing Maia took note of was his eyes. Even though they had lost their incandescence as soon as light fell on his pale, angular face, they flashed with anger, and the fire burning in the grate formed fiery specks of gold in them. He was not much older than she was, but the self-important manner in which he carried himself created the impression of a grown-up. He stood tall, towering menacingly in his black uniform as he glared at Maia. Stretching over the left half of his face, from forehead down to the cheekbone, was a strange, gray patch that clung like a second skin. The deep scowl and the vicious snarl were not nearly as intimidating as that patchwork of metal. Its presence was unsettling, its alien nature almost repulsive, yet Maia found it hard to tear her eyes away from his face.
“I don’t need your charity,” Maia finally found her voice. “I won’t let you insult people I care about.”
“You care?” he hissed back. “If you really cared about anyone but yourself, you would have kept your tongue in check. You would have known better than to offend us, at least for the welfare of your elderly grandfather.”
Principal Pomewege rushed in between them. “Oh, there is no need to get upset over such small things, young ones,” he said, then he turned toward Dada. His face crinkled with unease when he spoke again.
“Sir, I apologize for my words. It was indeed impudent of me to comment so harshly. Seeing the gift that your granddaughter has, I feel it is my duty as an educator to give her this chance. This is for the benefit of the child more than anything else.”
He ended his speech with a brisk bow and faced Maia.
“Please try to understand, child, your participation in this exercise will ultimately help us all. You will still be free to come back home after it is over.”
Words could not express the distress and the helplessness Maia felt at that moment. She did not want to go anywhere near Xif. She did not want to follow her mother’s treacherous footsteps lest she fall for the same trappings like her mother before her—the fact was as simple as that. Not just that, she had to make things right, she had to bring Dada and Uncle back together again. If Maia associated with the Xifarians, Uncle Alasdair would consider it another betrayal, and Maia could not let that happen. But these people simply refused to budge, and Maia could not think of a way to make them understand. She gasped for air; it felt like a thick, dark blanket had been flung over her head, and there was no escape from the suffocating airlessness.
“How can you force me to? Dada . . .” she pleaded, wondering about the Clause of Scholia. Did they not honor that anymore?
It was as if the principal had read her mind. He responded in a curt and unfaltering tone. “You see, you have already turned thirteen. Have you taken your Undertaking vows yet? No. So far, you have not enrolled in any institute, you simply intended to go to the ThulaSuian Center, and so the rules of Scholia do not apply. The Republic has the right to stake a claim on you now. We could even send you to the mining camps if we wanted to, but that is not what we are here for. Please try to appreciate our generosity.”
Generosity or not, Maia understood this much: this was the end of her free will.
“So, you can make me take part in this,” she whispered, fighting back a sob that threatened to choke her voice.
The man nodded.
“I’ll lose a year of learning at ThulaSu,” she said, trying to gauge the consequences.
Principal Pomewege rubbed his chin thoughtfully before he spoke. “It is only six months to begin with—your participation in the first phase is all that we ask of you now. What happens after that, whether you are chosen to continue to the next level, depends on how you fare in these six months. But I assure you, you will learn so much there, see new things, and make new friends, that you will not want to come back home.”
Maia let out a frustrated groan. Not wanting to come back home from Xif . . . that was not what worried her.
“I really don’t care, I just want to go to ThulaSu,” she insisted.
“That, my child, will have to wait,” Principal Pomewage replied decisively.
Maia hardly noticed as Dada slipped a comforting hand across her drooping shoulders.
“I hope you’re not taking my little girl away right now?” Dada asked.
“Oh no, not at all,” the principal laughed, easing into his seat next to the fire. “We will expect her to join us in two days. If you should you choose to agree to our proposal, of course.”
“I understand,” Dada replied. “Can I interest you in some tea, sir?”
“Oh, I would absolutely love some,” the little man said with a grateful smile.
“What about you, young man?” Dada asked the grim-faced boy who stood with his hands behind his back. “Would you care for some tea?”
“No, thank you. I do not take any pleasure in such things. If you will excuse me, Principal Pomewege, I shall wait for you outside,” he replied in a cold voice.
“Will you please see him to the door, Maia?” Dada asked. Maia nodded vaguely, her mind still
dazed from what had just transpired.
“I am perfectly capable of finding my way out, thank you,” snapped the boy.
“I’m sure you are. This is simply a custom, a gesture of our courtesy,” Dada said with a patient smile.
Walking to the door with him, Maia felt revolted, but she was happy that he would be out of the house soon. She had not expected him to turn around and speak as he stepped over the threshold.
“If you think you are a phenomenon of some kind, you are sorely mistaken. I suggest that you get your inflated head down to normal size before you get to Xif.” He spoke in a voice that was just a whisper, but every word cut into Maia’s heart like a sword. “Flying an itsy-bitsy glider like yours does not make anyone an ace pilot. I was ten when I perfected the Siroccan Spiral, and on a full-sized Onclioraptor no less.”
He did not intend to stop just yet.
“You know what I really think? I think you are just an ignorant girl who happened to brush against a couple of advantageously placed thermals. All this is a big waste of time. I do not think you will even get past the first challenge. You would probably be of better use to us in the mines of Ti.”
Maia stood seething in silent fury, unable to speak a word as he turned and walked down the steps. After what seemed like ages, she slammed the door shut and ran up to her room, hating herself for not answering back, and hating the Xifarians.
8: Choices
Warm sunshine seeped through the curtains and nudged Maia into wakefulness the following morning. As she reached to part the drapes and let the light flood in, the distressing memories of the previous night came pouring through. Along with the memories came anger, and it coursed like fire through her.
How could they force me into some stupid Initiative? How could they treat me like I am their property? I am not going to give in; I will run away from home if need be.
Maia’s mind raced, and she wondered if she could really pull off an escape.
Maybe I could find refuge among the Resistance, if only I knew who they were. Perhaps Herc would know?