by Anne Corlett
“What exactly were they doing?” Jamie asked. “It all sounds . . . I don’t know. A lot more cloak-and-dagger than any research department I had dealings with.”
Lowry shot a quick look over his shoulder. “It still feels wrong saying it. Even after everything that’s happened. Like someone’s going to pop up from behind a pillar and ‘off’ me. Not that the administration have ever worked that way.” His smile twisted. “We left all that behind us, after all. That was the idea anyway. That we’d outgrown oppression. We’d escaped our overcrowded world and found somewhere with enough space for everyone.” He picked at a piece of grit lodged in a crack in the stone wall. “Except it turned out that all the fighting over emigration and borders was never about too many people. It was about too many of the wrong sort of people.” He placed the grit fragment down on top of the wall and flicked it over the edge. “Rena’s department were working on ways to restrict the fertility of certain socioethnic groups. They’d identified some combinations of genetic markers—they called them keyhole genes—that were restricted to certain socioeconomic communities. The kind of communities who had lived in the same city ghetto for several generations. Communities that had sprung up around old refugee camps. Ethnic groups with a tradition of close-kin marriages.”
“Christ.” Jamie stared at him in shock. “It sounds like something the Nazis would have come up with. Why would they want to do that?”
They’d both lowered their voices, and she found herself throwing a nervous glance over her own shoulder.
“Exactly the same reason as the Nazis. Because they thought they could make the world into what they wanted it to be. They thought they could make the human race into what they wanted it to be. They’d already started working on it before we managed to get ourselves off Earth. They justified it as a way to control the worldwide birthrate. Then when population size stopped being an immediate issue, they figured it might be time for a fresh start, to make sure the new, space-age human race was smarter and healthier than before. The forced emigration programs were all part of the same idea. Ship the undesirables off to a couple of colonies and leave the homeworld for those who could afford to stay. Maybe a few decent people got caught up in the exodus, but greater good and all that.”
“How do you know all this?” Jamie asked. She couldn’t quite take in the true, monstrous scale of what he was telling her, and she clutched at the thread of the smaller, more personal story running at the heart of it.
“I was Rena’s confessor,” Lowry said, and then, “I know, I know,” at Jamie’s sharp look. “But it’s been twenty years, and that particular faith was ground out of both of us long ago.”
“But you kept it a secret until now?”
“Like I said, the confessional meant something to me back then.” He shifted his weight, one hand going to his lower back. “No, it wasn’t just that. I’ve been telling myself that for twenty years, but I’ve always known it wasn’t the whole truth. The political situation was so delicate back then. I believed wholeheartedly—and I still do—that the colonization of other worlds was the only chance our species had. I thought . . . or rather I convinced myself that to make what I knew public would be to risk the stability of what we were trying to build.” He gave her another of those weighted smiles. “The greater good. It’s got to be the most commonly used justification for moral cowardice in the history of the human race. Anyway, there you have it. Rena was part of something she could never quite square with her conscience or her faith. And it ripped her apart.”
“And for nothing,” Jamie said. “They never managed it. Thank Christ.”
Lowry looked out across the city. “No.”
“I guess that explains why she’s so horrified at the idea of being involved with some new fertility program.” Even as she said it, she had a sense that the connection she’d made was too flimsy. That look on Rena’s face . . .
But then Lowry had said it himself: Rena was just the shredded fragments of what she’d once been. There was no reason to think that her logic was sound or her fears proportional.
“Do they know?” she asked. “Buckley and the others? Do they know she was involved?”
Lowry nodded. “Someone came to speak to her this morning. Lots of skirting around the subject with talk of skill sets and specialist knowledge, rather than coming right out and saying what he meant. But yes, they know.” He shook his head and looked away for a long moment. “You think there’s any chance of them letting us leave?” he said eventually.
“I don’t know.” Jamie pulled her thoughts away from Rena. “I’ll keep trying.”
• • •
Back upstairs, she made another visit to Buckley’s office, and this time she found him in situ. He listened, politely enough, and then explained, in distant, dispassionate logic, why his way was the only way. Jamie was close to losing her temper again, but she could see that it wouldn’t dent Buckley’s calm. She looked out the window, searching for the right words.
The sky was clear, with the occasional vague wisp of cloud. It looked wrong, somehow, and it took her a moment to realize she’d never seen the Alegrian sky when it wasn’t shot through with vapor trails.
That was how the Northumbrian sky would look right now, unmarked and endless. They’d come in on the coast road, the dunes rising up to guide them in, and then, when they crested those scrubby slopes, they’d see two expanses of blue; the thin gray-blue of the sky meeting the deeper teal of the sea. She could picture them: Lowry, hand pressed to his chest; Rena, shading her eyes with one thin, shaking hand; Finn, shooting quick sideways glances at the sea, as though it might suddenly break its bounds and rush him; Mila, skirt tucked up above her knees as she paddled, with no one watching her and thinking those thoughts.
There was an ache inside Jamie’s chest as she turned back to Buckley. “Look,” she said. “I’ll do you a deal. You need medics. I’ll stay, help you get things set up. Then we’ll see about later.” She folded her arms. “But you let the others go on to Earth.”
He sat back in his chair and regarded her, his gaze level. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not in a position to make any such concessions for your friends. The situation will, of course, remain subject to review.”
“But . . .”
“Miss Allenby, I’ve explained the position. And even if I were minded to make an exception, there are no ships available at this time.”
“The Phaeacian is available.”
“The captain of the Phaeacian has agreed to undertake search-and-rescue work as an administration contractor.”
“Contractor?” She almost laughed. Even with all that had happened, people were still clinging to the language of a world that no longer existed. “You’re paying him?”
“In fuel,” Buckley said, just beginning to show the first fault lines of impatience. “We will ensure that his ship is kept fueled and supplied for as long as he continues to transport survivors from the outer worlds.”
“In . . .” She stopped, all hope falling away. She’d tried to make a deal with someone who was actually practiced in that kind of horse trading. He’d found the one thing that would bring Callan to heel. “Transport survivors? You mean bring you a workforce, slaves to keep the wheels turning, so you don’t have to.”
Buckley stood up. He was taller than Jamie remembered, and as his shadow fell over her she found herself wanting to take a step back.
“We’re done here, Miss Allenby.”
• • •
Down in the foyer, Jamie joined the much-reduced line for the information desk and asked for a room. The young woman raised her eyebrows as she checked through her list.
“You’re down as sharing with Daniel Orton.”
“No.” Jamie met her look for look. “That’s not correct.”
The woman hesitated, then gave a slight shrug. “Room five twenty-one. Fifth floor. Shared sitting room
.”
It took Jamie another hour to extract permission to retrieve her belongings from the Phaeacian, by which time she couldn’t face lining up again to find out where the other passengers were roomed. She’d get her things and find out how long the ship was going to be there. Then she could let the others know the position.
The hold doors were open, but there was no sign of Callan or Gracie. Jamie packed quickly, shoving her belongings into her old rucksack with little care for the state of her already crumpled clothes.
On her way back down, she caught a faint clatter from a service passage. She hesitated for a moment, then dropped her rucksack and squeezed through, emerging by the bridge. Callan was lying on his back, head and shoulders wedged into a hatchway, shining a small flashlight up into the guts of the ship.
At the sound of her footsteps, he twisted his head to peer out.
“I came to get my things,” she said. “Doesn’t look like we’re leaving anytime soon.”
“No.” He looked back up at whatever he was doing. “Guess not.”
“You guess?” Jamie’s emotions were on a roller coaster today. No sooner had she freewheeled down into something like resignation than she’d find her anger gathering speed again, ready for the ascent. “You’re the one who took this deal of theirs.”
Callan took hold of the edge of the hatchway and eased himself out, then climbed to his feet.
“It wasn’t exactly a choice,” he said. “They’ve made their position clear. They weren’t going to let you head off to Earth, even if I refused to help them out.”
“Did you even try? They might have agreed, if you held out. They aren’t exactly overrun with ships. They need you.”
“They need the ship,” Callan said. “What if they’d just decided to take it?”
“They need people to fly them too.”
“There’ll be other people who can fly. I couldn’t risk it.”
“So you sacrificed our freedom for yours.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Callan said. “You weren’t going anywhere. I could either end up in the same position or I could knuckle down and take what was on offer.”
“With the added bonus of unlimited fuel.”
“Can’t rescue people without fuel.”
“And that’s what’s uppermost in your mind.” Jamie flung the words at him. “Saving the day. Being a hero.”
“No.” Callan wiped his oil-stained hands on a rag. “But fortunately what I want and what they want run hand in hand.”
“And what about the rest of us? What about what we want?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve figured out what you want, have you?”
She made an impatient gesture. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure you know what you mean,” he said, tossing the rag back down again. “And I think you probably want to have a good hard look at what you’re being offered. You could have a nice, safe life here, in your nice, safe upper-echelon world.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“We don’t always get what we want,” he said. “Sometimes you just have to get over it and do the best you can with what you have.”
“You didn’t,” she said.
“What?”
“You didn’t get over it,” she said. “You left your brother behind because you wanted your freedom. And you’ve never gotten over it. But you’re doing it again. To us.”
“You’re not my responsibility.” Callan’s voice stayed level, but there was a muscle tightening in his cheek. “Anyway, this is the capital world. Plenty of food and space and luxury for everyone.”
“Not everyone,” she said. “That’s not the plan. Those people you’re bringing in for them, well, they’d better be upper echelon.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out for yourself.” She started to turn away.
He caught her arm. “Tell me.”
“What do you think I mean? Everyone’s going to need to know their place in the new order, that’s all, and their lords and masters are going to make sure they knuckle down. Lots of little cogs in the administration’s big, shiny machine. Just like it’s always been, only without even the illusion of choice this time. No chance of opting out of the breeding program. But that doesn’t matter, does it? As long as you have your freedom.”
“It won’t be like that.” There was a hint of doubt just showing through a narrow crack in his composure. “There isn’t enough of the old administration left to enforce that sort of setup.”
“How much time have you spent off the ship?” Jamie said. “Have you seen how they’re dealing with anyone who isn’t happy with their plans?”
“Things will shake down. Governments are always heavy-handed when there’s a crisis.” He shot her a swift look. “And if they’re so all-powerful, why are you blaming me for falling into line like the rest of you?”
“In a crisis?” Jamie ignored his last dig. “And any other time they fancy doing something unpopular. You, of all people, should know that.”
Anger flickered across Callan’s face. He turned away to crouch down by the hatchway again. “I’m busy. If you just came to harangue me, then you can get off my ship. Or did you have any other business here?”
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.
“Okay.” Callan lay back down and pulled himself in through the hatch. “See you around, then.”
“I doubt that,” Jamie said as she walked away.
CHAPTER
17
Jamie spent the rest of the evening in her room, listening to people coming and going outside her door. Once she heard someone crying. Around ten, Daniel knocked on the door and called her name. When she didn’t respond, he went away without trying a second time.
After he’d gone, Jamie climbed into bed and turned off the light. She had no sense that the morning would bring any relief, but at least she could hope for a few hours of forgetfulness. She tried to steady her thoughts, but they kept lurching from one dead end to another. Sheer exhaustion eventually tipped the balance, and she stumbled into unsettled sleep.
It could have been minutes or hours later when she was jerked awake. She lay still, eyes open, searching the gray-dark of the unfamiliar room, trying to work out what had broken her sleep.
It came again. A cautious knock, followed by a low, muffled voice, like someone pressed close to the door. “Jamie.”
Not Daniel. But the voice was too distorted to make any identification beyond that.
Callan.
No. She dismissed that thought immediately.
She pulled her shirt over her head and went over to the door, opening it a crack and peering out.
Lowry was fully dressed, a rucksack slung across his shoulders.
“What . . .”
He jerked a finger to his lips.
“We’re going.” His voice was low and tense. “If you want to come with us, get your stuff and head down to the ship.”
“The ship? He said . . .”
“Change of plan. Or change of heart. Doesn’t matter. Are you coming?”
She hesitated. She’d been so sure just a few hours ago, but now . . .
“No time for that.” Lowry had seen straight into the roiling mess of her indecision. “Come, or don’t come.”
She breathed in hard. “Okay.”
Lowry gave her a quick smile. “Good. Go down the back way. Not through the foyer.”
“Isn’t anyone watching the ship?”
“They were.” Lowry’s expression was grim.
As he padded off, she ducked back inside her room. She dressed, but shoved her boots into her bag before heading out into the corridor, her bare feet silent on the cold floor.
At the bottom of the emergency stairwell, she paused, looking out
across the exposed concrete landing site. The bay doors of the Phaeacian were open, but the gangway wasn’t down, and there were no lights showing. She couldn’t see anyone moving, inside the ship or out on the forecourt. She let herself out and jogged across to the ship, splinters of grit digging into her feet. She kept waiting for a warning cry, but she reached the ship without incident and scrambled up into the cargo bay with her bag.
“Jamie.”
A small group of figures blurred into focus as her eyes adjusted to the semidarkness. Lowry was standing off to the side with Mila and Finn. Finn had his little rucksack, while Mila had shed all but one bag, which she was clutching with both hands.
“Where’s Rena?” Jamie kept her voice low.
“Should be on her way.” Lowry edged over to the door and peered out. “She said she had to pick something up.”
Jamie felt her pulse quickening. They didn’t have time. Mila moved over to join them at the doors. Her face was set.
“What is it?” Jamie said.
“I don’t know.” Mila pulled her bag tighter against her chest. “I don’t know about this.”
“What do you mean?”
The girl shook her head, tears starting in her eyes. “I have to get off. I don’t know why I came.”
“What are you talking about?” Lowry reached out to take Mila’s hand. “We’re going to Earth. All of us.”
“What would I do on Earth? Rena keeps talking about a new world, but the people here want the old one back.”
“Was it kind to you?” Lowry asked. “The old world?”
Mila looked away. “No one’s kind. Not to people like me.” She looked at Jamie. “You were. Or you tried to be. But you know what you want. I don’t, and there won’t be a place for me where you’re going. I don’t want to be left on my own when I don’t fit in.”