“Why did they throw you in here?” I ask.
“We already told you why,” Fred says from the dark of his cell.
I clench my teeth and scoot forward, wrapping my palms around the iron bars caging me in here. “No, you didn’t. You told me why they keep us alive, not what you did, specifically, that led them to lock you up. Please tell me. Maybe it was a long time ago, but I know both of you remember.”
Ella’s staring at the ground. “I had several incidents,” she says. “The final one was when I broke into the Core medical facilities. I destroyed several crates of their monthly injection vials.”
I glance at Fred. He sits with his back against his cell door, shivering maybe from the cold, maybe from the remnants of my allergen in his blood.
“I killed someone,” he says. “Someone close to Commander Charlie. I was too useful for him to execute.”
My eyes widen. I didn’t expect that. I swallow hard, and pull my hands away from the bars.
“And you, girl?” Fred asks. His head turns, and his dead eyes stare at me from across the way.
“I … tried to sabotage a plan. Charlie’s plan.” My voice is shaky. “But I didn’t have enough time, and it didn’t work. I wish it would’ve. Things might get bad.”
There’s silence for a moment.
“What do you mean?” Ella says, her brows furrowing.
I take a deep breath.
And I start to talk.
I explain KIMO and Charlie’s whole plan, how he’s going to destroy the outer sectors and fly the Core away. How he’s using moonshine as an excuse, but I don’t believe it’s a real one. My heart rate speeds up. It’s beating faster than a healthy human heart should by the time I finish.
A whole minute passes.
I dig my nails into my ankles. I pull my legs closer to my body. “Please, someone say something.”
“Is this the truth, Clementine?” Ella’s voice trembles.
“Of course it is. I heard it all from Charlie’s mouth.”
“I’m sorry.” Fred’s words are quiet, but I can still hear the sob behind them. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He’s crying. He’s holding his head in his hands and rocking back and forth on the ground.
My lips twist into a nervous frown. I don’t know why he’s doing that. He’s going to die, so the crying makes sense. But why is he saying sorry?
“Fred, this isn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is.” He looks up at me. Teeth clenched, eyes streaming tears. “You don’t understand. I designed the bomb.”
I gape at him. “You what?”
“I did, I did.” He scrapes his nails over the patches of hair on his scalp. “Didn’t know he was gonna vruxing use it for this. Thought I was designing it to blow up the acid generator—bet that idiot’s been lying to me all along. Bet he’s not even gonna let me outta here like he said.”
I blink fast, trying to sort out what he’s saying. He designed the bomb. When? While he was here in Karum? But Charlie told him he was making it for something else—an acid generator?
I falter. Can’t quite catch my breath.
Did I hear him right?
“The acid generator,” I repeat. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” Fred says. He’s rocking back and forth again.
“Fred,” Ella says, her eyes wider than mine. Whatever Fred’s saying now, he’s never told her before. “What do you mean?”
Fred stops moving. Pauses. Lifts his eyes to Ella’s. “It’s not what they teach people. It’s the truth. Hardly anyone knows.”
“The truth about what?” I ask, even though I’m afraid to hear his answer.
“Moonshine,” he says. “The acid. They teach you that the moon’s always bled acid, right?”
“Yes,” I say.
“What else do they teach you?”
I swallow. “The moon’s always been dangerous, but it didn’t harm us until pollution corroded the atmosphere—”
“Wrong,” Fred says. “Three hundred years ago, the moon became lethal when an acid generator was built on its surface. What else?”
I glance at Ella. Her wide eyes are locked on Fred.
“They teach us the underground sectors were constructed by scientists to save everyone,” I continue, “and the five scientists who headed Project Rebuild were elected as the Developers. They became more dictatorial after the Great Rebellion, when they started the work-camp system.”
“Mostly true, except one of the five so-called scientists was actually the leader of the military. Commander Charlie is descended from him, which shouldn’t surprise you.” Fred waves the thought away with a hand. “But that’s not important. What do they teach you about Kiel? What do they say about our planet compared to all the other planets in the galaxy?”
I bite my lip, my mind racing through all the lessons I remember for what he might want me to say. “We’re the only planet with life.”
Fred’s hollow laughter fills the cells. “That’s the biggest lie. There’s a planet very close by that’s inhabited by humanoids.”
All the breath drains from my lungs. He’s kidding. He must be.
“That’s impossible,” Ella says.
“Is it?” Fred asks. “Everything you know—everything anyone knows is approved by the Developers. Half of it’s a lie or warped. You must know that already.”
I remember the bits of history glossed over in my school lessons; the theories of science not explored in depth; the vul inside that tank in the Core, the last of a species Commander Charlie let hardly anyone know about.
He is a liar. But would he really take it this far?
“You want more proof?” Fred says.
I look over at him again. He has his hands wrapped around his cell bars now.
“Charlie named the bomb I made KIMO,” he says. “That stands for Kiel Intelligence Military Operative. They were a special corps in the military way back when, devoted to a project for taking back the other planet, Marden.”
Marden. Something stirs inside me. I’ve heard that name before.
“Where is Marden?” I ask. “Why would we need to take it back?”
“It’s only eight light-minutes away from us at its closest point, about a couple months away by spaceship,” Fred says, his eyes growing distant. “Our people came from there a long time ago. We were one of the two major species on that planet, along with the aliens. In Recorded Century 29, I believe, humans came here and established a colony due to severe tensions with the aliens. In RC 32, three centuries ago, the Mardenites flew a ship over and built a generator up there on the moon, a vruxing powerful one. It pumps out enough acid every hour to destroy a piece of land the size of the Surface city.”
I press a palm against my clammy forehead. “They want to kill us.”
“Sure seems like it.”
“Why?” Ella asks.
“We tried to enslave them—our ancestors did, anyway. The original colony sent warships back to Marden in RC 31. The aliens retaliated, but we captured some of them. Left their villages in ruins. We came back here and then went right back again with even more ships some fifteen years later. Captured even more of them. Then they revealed they had secret biological weapons, and they crippled our fleet, so we had to leave again. But they were scared we’d go back. So they brought one of their weapons over here and put it on the moon. Luckily our technology has been able to keep it at bay so far.”
Needles, needles, needles all over me.
“Don’t they know there are thousands of innocent people here?”
“All contact with Marden was cut off after the Great Rebellion, and that was two centuries ago. There’s no way to tell how much their current leaders know or remember.”
I swallow, struggling to get air into my lungs. “How do you know all this? No one else does.”
Fred’s lips form a thin line. “No. They don’t.”
I wait for him to go on.
“All the a
rmy leaders learn the history, and I was an army colonel,” Fred says, turning his head away. “I was also the head of Core science and technology. I was training to take over for my father. To become one of the Developers.”
I stare at him for so long, the sun might’ve risen and set in the world beyond these walls.
“You were Charlie’s follower,” Ella says.
Fred turns back to us with raw pain in his eyes, confirming her thought.
He was Charlie’s follower, but it didn’t last, I remember. He turned on him just like we did; that’s why he’s here.
“I’m not proud of it,” Fred says. “Especially now. I never would’ve designed that bomb if I’d known he’d use it for something else.”
The bomb. Fred’s words jolt me back to the present.
“So Charlie’s going to set off KIMO,” I say, “but he’s not using it to blow up the acid generator—he’s using it to destroy the outer sectors.”
“That’s what you said,” Fred says.
I nod. It makes sense, of course. Charlie could care less about the acid, since he’s leaving the moon behind. But he does care about Marden. Marden, which probably has a safer atmosphere than Kiel does. Marden, which was our ancestors’ home before tensions with the aliens led us to search for a new one.
Marden, which we’ve tried to conquer twice to no avail because our warships aren’t strong enough.
“The Core is a warship,” I say slowly, as the realization dawns on me. Charlie and that scientist said it was designed as a spaceship with powerful ion engines and hyperdrive field generators. Why not weapons too? “He’s using KIMO to destroy the outer sectors so he can fly the Core to Marden. So he can go to war.”
Fred nods stiffly.
This is the war Charlie meant. A war against Marden, and the people of the Core will be his soldiers. He has ten thousand of them, and they’re all subdued. The warship probably can’t fit any more than that, so he doesn’t need the people in the camps. He needed them only long enough to keep collecting resources until the Core had the full capacity to survive on its own. He said it himself—he said he’d launch the bomb as soon as we’re capable of producing our own food and water and clean air from space matter, to ensure we won’t die without the assistance of the outer sectors.
He’s finished with them. He’s going to kill them all. Disabling the bomb is the only way to stop him.
I don’t know what to do. I can’t disable it. I can’t even get out of this prison.
There’s a clang down the hallway, and I jump. Boots clunk on the rocky floor. Two shadows slip into view and elongate. I scoot away from the bars and fall back into the darkness.
The guards step into view, stone-faced. They walk straight toward my cell, and I stiffen.
“I’m sorry, girl,” Fred whispers.
“Citizen S68477.” One of the guards unlocks the door. “You’re coming with us.”
34
The guards lead me down the passageway, a hand around each of my wrists. My heart pounds. I don’t know why they came for me so late. If our cells had surveillance, Fred would’ve known, so I don’t think it’s about what I told him. It must be something else.
When we reach the examination room door, one of the guards sets his knuckles on the metal and raps three times. In the silence that follows, a muffled cry comes from behind the door.
I turn to steel.
It’s barely any sound at all, but every inch of me reverberates with recognition.
I know that cry, that voice. I know it so well.
The door opens, and I want to run to him, but I can’t because the guards have my wrists. He’s lying on a steel table. His black hair is untidy, matted with sweat. Wires crisscross his chest, connected to his skin by plastic suction cups. A nurse stands beside the table. She is tight-lipped, but her eyes shine.
Dr. Tennant looks up from his tablet and smiles. “Welcome, Clementine.”
I want to rip the wires off Logan’s chest and strangle the doctor and nurse. I want to scream his name. They’re going to hurt him.
“We brought your friend,” Dr. Tennant says. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”
“Why is he here?” I ask. I’m shaking and my breaths are tangled. These doctors shouldn’t know he’s important to me—he’s just a boy on the Surface. Did Charlie tell them, or Cadet Waller?
I told someone he’s important only a few days ago. I told Fred.
“We thought you needed some persuasion.” Dr. Tennant sets his tablet down and snaps on a pair of gloves. “Logan here seemed like he’d do the trick nicely.”
“You can’t hurt him.”
Dr. Tennant ignores me. “Turn it on,” he tells a nurse.
She steps away from the table and moves to a red button on the wall. She presses it.
Logan’s body convulses. Screams bubble up from his throat. His chest lifts off the table and slams back down again. His head knocks against the steel. His arms would be flailing if he weren’t strapped down.
“No, no, no, no, stop!” I’m crying.
Dr. Tennant holds up a hand, and the nurse releases the button momentarily.
Logan’s body falls limp.
“What do you want to say, Clementine?” Dr. Tennant says.
“Stop hurting him!” I wrench against the guards, but they hold me tightly, twisting my arms behind my back. I feel them clamp irons around my wrists.
“Up the amps,” Dr. Tennant says.
“No…”
The nurse presses the button again.
Again, Logan’s body convulses, but he doesn’t scream this time. He jolts this way and that, again and again, and I’m sure they’re going to kill him, if he’s not already dead.
“Stop it!” I yell. “Stop it—stop—please.”
“What will you do?” Dr. Tennant asks. “What will you do for Commander Charlie?”
I’m a glass statue about to shatter. Logan won’t stop convulsing and hitting the table hard—his brain’s going to explode—and I have to do something. I will do anything to make them stop.
“Clementine,” Dr. Tennant says.
“Anything!” I scream. “I’ll do anything—I’ll say anything—I’ll obey—I won’t fight Charlie. Just please don’t kill him!”
Dr. Tennant gives the signal, and the nurse releases the button. Logan falls limp.
“Very good,” Dr. Tennant says, smiling. “You know what this means, Clementine? You’re going back to the Core. But if you go back on your word and don’t obey, you will be killed.”
“What about Logan?” I ask, still trembling.
“We’ll see what Commander Charlie wants us to do with him,” Dr. Tennant says. “Take her back to her cell,” he says to the guards.
The guards pull me away, giving me no time to even touch Logan. The door slams shut behind us.
I can’t help thinking I shouldn’t have given in. I shouldn’t have said I’d do anything.
The bomb’s still going to go off, and it still might kill him.
*
Back in my cell, I curl up in a ball and cry into my arms. I don’t know what to do. I’m weak and helpless here, and it’s not going to change when they let me out. Charlie’s going to keep trying to subdue me.
He’s still going to murder half the world.
I’m wiping the water off my cheeks and trying to fix my screwed-up breathing when something clatters against the bars of my cell.
I jump. Hold my breath.
After a moment, I cast my eyes to the ground outside my cell. There’s a small, flat rock on the floor, about half the size of my palm. Someone must’ve thrown it.
I look up and see Fred peering through the bars of his cell.
“Did you—” I ask. Did you throw that? Did you tell the doctors about Logan?
“Pick that up, girl,” he hisses.
I almost shake my head. How do I even know if I can trust him? Everything he said about Marden and Charlie and the moon might be a lie. I don�
�t know whose side he’s on.
But my curiosity gets the better of me. I reach through the bars and snatch up the rock. There’s something on it—a sketch or words, maybe. Fred must’ve used another rock to scrape into this one.
The ceiling lamp outside my cell is dim. I tilt the rock and squint to see what’s written on it.
It’s blip mathematics:
I know this equation. It’s Yate’s Equation. The full thing is five times this long, one of the most complicated equations to solve. But I memorized how to do it a long time ago.
“Can you solve it?” Fred asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Good,” he says, and I can hear the relief in his voice.
“Why?” I ask.
“It’ll disable the bomb,” he says.
I gasp.
“Thought I was being clever, you know,” Fred says. “Not many people can solve it.”
“It’ll turn the bomb off?” I ask. “It’ll make it stop?”
Not that this helps me much. I’m still stuck in here. Charlie’s not going to let me near the bomb.
“It should,” Fred says. “Charlie might’ve changed the code since I set it up. But it’s the best I can give you. Screwed everything up for you, didn’t I?”
I clench the rock inside my hand. The sharp edges dig into my skin, but I don’t care. “Why’d you do it?” I ask. “You told the doctors about Logan, didn’t you?”
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. He leans his forehead against the bars. “Charlie promised to let me outta here if I helped him break you. I didn’t know about his plan for the bomb, or this war of his.… I’ve been in here for ten years. You must understand.” His gaze lifts to meet mine again.
I turn my head away. But I do understand. I just promised I’d do anything for Charlie if those doctors would stop hurting Logan, didn’t I?
There’s a clang down the passageway.
My body tenses. More guards again?
“Hide the rock, girl,” Fred hisses. “Throw it away.”
I crawl into the back corner of my cell and hide it in the darkness. I turn around, and my heart stops.
Logan’s eyes are downcast. His wounded leg and his good one drag on the floor as the guards haul him across the stone.
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