by Tania Hutley
“You want me to run for president?”
A crease appears in his smooth brow, which in Sentin-land means he’s shocked I had to ask the question. “Of course.”
It makes sense that Sentin wants me to hold onto power. But the election is almost a year away, and I can’t let millions suffer in the meantime without trying to help.
“There must be some middle ground,” I say. “We could give workers a small wage rise at first, with a plan for more after the election. Even a tiny increase will help. For some Old Tritoners, it could mean the difference between life and death.” I have no idea if he cares about dying sinkers. “Besides,” I add. “Won’t giving them more money mean Old Tritoners will be more likely to vote for me?”
“Perhaps.”
At least I’m making a little progress. “I also want to get rid of second child taxes, and make shelters safer for the grunts who have to live in them.”
“Workers,” he corrects. “Not grunts.”
Silently cursing my slip, I keep going. “Eventually, I want to give them their own houses to live in, instead of shelters.”
“Change always comes with a cost. I’d rather not have to pay it now.”
“Old Tritoners need things to change. The longer we wait, the more they suffer.”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes the color of steel. “Why are you so concerned with Old Triton? You don’t live there anymore. You’ll never need to live there again.”
“You think I can just forget about everything that happened to me there?”
“You don’t need to forget it. Analyze it, and learn from it. But holding onto old emotions and attachments will only weaken you.”
I think of Tori, and the all the Fist members who went to battle, risking their lives against the knights. If they’d decided that emotions and attachments weren’t worth fighting for, the knights would probably still be tormenting Old Tritoners.
“Is that what you do?” I ask. “Cut yourself off from everything?”
He rests his elbows on the arms of his chair and laces his fingers. “It’s the only sensible option.”
“How can you not care about anyone?”
He hesitates. “It’s not that I don’t care. But the fact is, a whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m concerned with the community as a whole. The future of Triton matters far more than what happens to any single individual.”
“That’s great,” I walk back to the desk. “Unless you’re the individual who’s getting shafted.”
“Leaders can only be effective if they remain detached.”
“Maybe that’s true, but I’m not detached. Too many terrible things happen every day in Old Triton. Those things happened to me. I can’t walk away and pretend I don’t care.”
He doesn’t reply, and I stop in front of him, wishing for the millionth time that he were easier to read. Even sitting down, Sentin has a restrained elegance that probably comes from having such long limbs. His facial features aren’t as even as most floaters’, and I’m starting to think of that as a good thing. His dark hair is short, his eyes are sharply intelligent, and I recently discovered that on the rare occasion he smiles, the way his face lights up takes my breath away.
I can’t help but like Sentin. But I’d give my right arm to know if I can trust him.
“You cut your hand?” I ask, noticing it again.
He lifts his palm to give me a good look. The wound is deep enough to make me wince. “When I collected the chip scanner from Felicity’s bedroom, I cut myself on a piece of broken glass. My own impatience was to blame. I should have let her androids clean the room first.”
So he’s not infallible after all. Just a regular guy who occasionally makes mistakes, like the rest of us. I was starting to wonder. “Doctor Gregory said you studied military tactics at university,” I say.
He inclines his head. “Military tactics, statistics, and probability theory. I have an aptitude for mathematics.”
“I’m determined to make things better for Old Triton and could really use your talents. I don’t want to have to do it without you.” I shoot him a smile to take the edge off my words, but hopefully he can see how serious I am. He has no reason to want to improve conditions in Old Triton, but if I let him talk me out of it, it’ll be on my conscience. I’ll have to think about all the people I let suffer, when I could have pushed for change.
“That Skin gives you absolute power,” says Sentin. “But now is when you must be most careful. You know what they say about power.”
“I have no idea what people say about power. I never thought I’d have any.”
Only a few short weeks ago, I was living in the shelter, solely worried about surviving. Everything changed the night I watched two shiny goldfish swim in out of the rain.
He blinks slowly. “Be careful, Milla. The changes you want to make will upset some powerful industrialists, and change Triton in ways you can’t foresee.”
Though a warning from Sentin isn’t something I’d be wise to ignore, I nod calmly. “It’s better than not changing things at all.”
Four
Ma looks every bit as weary as the last time I saw her, and I have to clench my fists to keep myself from hugging her.
She stands stiffly in my luxurious private office, her forehead creased with confusion, and fear in her eyes. “You wanted to see me, President Morelle?” She’s so overawed by the woman standing in front of her that her voice is barely more than a whisper. I wish I could tell her who I really am, but Sentin warned me against it and I figure I should follow his advice.
“I have something for you.” I extend my arm, offering her my band.
It takes forever for her own arm to slowly extend. She looks as though she’s expecting a trick, as though my band might contain some kind of deadly weapon.
I tap my band against hers, activating the transfer function. “I’ve just given you the key that will open your new home. The apartment’s not large, but it’s in New Triton. And it’s all yours. Paid for. The only thing you need to do is move in.”
“I don’t understand.” She frowns at her band, her arm still stiffly extended.
“Congratulations.” I take her work-roughened hand in mine, and shake it for longer than I should because I can hardly bear to let it go.
But her hand stays limp in mine, and she looks at me with such wariness, I can’t stand it. She won’t pull away, she’s too afraid of me for that. But she doesn’t welcome my touch. And why should she? I’m the woman who owns the factory where she slaves for endless hours, and the shelter where she fears for her life each time she closes her eyes.
I drop her hand and clear my throat, trying to get rid of the lump that’s formed. “I know it’s a lot to take in, so let me say it again. You now own an apartment in New Triton.”
Her frown deepens. “In New Triton?” She sounds as though I’ve suggested she relocate to Deiterra.
“It gets the sun,” I say. “And your account has been filled with credits. You won’t need to work, and if you have friends you’d like to see, you can go down to Old Triton any time you like. I mean, if you want to…”
My voice trails off. I’m the most powerful woman in Triton, but somehow I still feel like a girl trying to please her mother. I’d been looking forward to this meeting, to giving Ma a place of her own, but her confusion and fear is sapping all the pleasure out of it.
“Milla is safe,” I say on impulse.
Her mouth drops open and her eyes light up. “What? Where is she?” Her voice finally strengthens to a normal volume.
“She’s safe,” I repeat. “She’s helping me with something important, and agreed to go away for a while. I’m sorry I can’t tell you any more than that. But you should see her again soon.”
Ma draws in a breath and looks like she wants to press me with more questions, but caution wins out. After a moment she nods. “Thank you.”
; I nod back. Though I’d imagined how great it would feel to make Ma happy, I clearly haven’t, and her gratitude doesn’t feel good at all. It feels all wrong.
When I drop my gaze to the floor, searching for something to say to make this interview less painful for both of us, she takes it as a dismissal and starts backing toward the door.
I jerk my head up. “Wait. I need to ask you something.”
She freezes, and her nervous expression makes me feel worse than ever.
“Your son, William,” I say. “He knocked you out and left you for dead.”
She nods, and her expression becomes pleading. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s here, in the building. I discharged him from the army.”
“May I see him?”
“You’ve forgiven him?” My chest feels like something heavy is pressing down on it.
“Of course. He’s my son.”
The simplicity of her statement takes my breath away. Maybe I still have some love left for William too, but forgiveness won’t come so easily.
“I’m going to issue him with new orders. I’ll tell him to protect you, take care of you, and never hurt you again.”
Her eyes widen. “Please don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
She swallows, clearly regretting speaking up. But after a moment, her chin lifts and her voice firms. “Loving someone and wanting to take care of them isn’t something he should be commanded to do. I hope he doesn’t want to hurt me anymore, but it needs to be up to him.”
I press my lips together, tempted to give William the order anyway. If he hurts Ma again, I’ll feel responsible. But after a moment, I give a reluctant nod. “All right. If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I’ll send for him and you can both go.”
I touch my band to summon Cassandra, and she leads Ma into the next room to wait.
Now comes the interview I’ve been dreading. I move behind my big desk and sink into the chair before letting Cassandra know I’m ready. “Bring him in,” I tell her.
William marches into my private office like the obedient soldier he is. He stands to attention, his eyes fixed straight ahead. His eyes look hollow, as though he hasn’t been sleeping.
With him in front of me, all I can think of is the way he murdered Doctor Gregory, then left me strapped to a chair to be examined and dissected.
Bile rises in my throat.
Though my brother isn’t tweaked, he’s naturally handsome enough that he could almost pass for a New Tritoner. Ma used to be beautiful once, before all the hard work wore her down, and William has her generous lips and high cheekbones. But I’m struggling not to see him as a monster.
He stands stiffly in front of my desk, waiting for me to say something. If I don’t talk, he’ll probably stand there forever. He thinks I’m President Morelle, the person who tricked Ma into sending him to one of her academies, turned him against his family, and taught him to kill. The irony is how much he loves Morelle, and how much he’d hate me if he knew I were the one really sitting in front of him.
“At ease, soldier.” My muscles are tight and I need to force myself to lean back in my chair so I don’t look as tense as I feel.
William puts his arms behind his back at the command, but still stands ramrod straight. I could invite him to sit down, but I don’t want to drag this out.
“The Knight Skins are no longer needed,” I tell him. “I’m planning to wipe every soldier’s chip and scrap the Skins.”
William’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to protest. His feelings are plain, written into his face. Shock. Dismay. Loss. But he closes his mouth before speaking, his loyalty to Morelle keeping him silent. He stares at the wall above my head. Maybe he was taught to keep his chin up, or not to stare a superior in the eyes. It’s a little disconcerting talking to him when he won’t look at me, but it’s making this meeting a little easier.
“I know that isn’t what you want,” I say. “Believe me, I understand how difficult it is to lose your Skin and go back to being what you were before. Weaker and slower, and less in every way. After you’ve been a knight, how can you bear to be only human again?”
His eyes finally flick to me, surprise overcoming his training. I guess he didn’t expect me to express what he was feeling. But losing my Leopard Skin after the contest was so devastating, it left a mark I’ll never forget.
“I taught you that the army was your family,” I go on. “I told you your own family abandoned you. But that was a lie. I’m releasing you from service, so you can go back to them.”
His jaw tightens and a sullen expression crosses his face.
“Speak,” I order. “Tell me what’s on your mind. And be honest.”
“Please don’t take away the knights, Madam President.” His voice is strained. “They’re all we have.”
“You have families.”
“We don’t, ma’am.” His gaze drops to me properly now, gauging my reaction to his outburst. He studies me for a moment, then softens his tone. “I mean, like you said, Madam President. The army is our family. Knights are who we are.”
“Not any more.”
“You said my family didn’t deserve—”
“I told you things that weren’t true, so I could break your connection to them and gain your loyalty. Your family only want the best for you.”
“You sound like her. Like my sister.” For a moment I’m sure he’s guessed everything and knows who I am. But he lets out a sigh. “You sent me to kill her, Madam President, and I was ready to obey.”
“I shouldn’t have given that order.”
“I wanted to kill her. I wanted to make her suffer, the way I suffered when I first went to the academy.” He bows his head, his fists clenched by his side. But his eyes are still defiant. Still conflicted.
The words, ‘I’m sorry’, are on the tip of my tongue. But President Morelle wouldn’t apologise to one of her soldiers.
“Your mother is here,” I say instead, the announcement more abrupt than I’d intended.
He stiffens back into soldier stance, his back straight and his eyes snapping to the wall above my head. “Excuse me, Madam President?”
“I had your mother brought here. She’s in the next room, waiting to see you.”
“I don’t want—” He breaks off, flushing. “I’m sorry, Madam President, I mean, yes ma’am. I’ll obey any command you give me, ma’am.”
In spite of what Ma said, I can barely stop myself from ordering him to forgive her and love her again. Though it wouldn’t be real, at least I’d be able to rest a little easier if I could be sure he wasn’t going to hurt her.
“From now on, your choices are your own,” I say instead, my tone harsh. Then I activate my band to talk to Cassandra. “Take Private Scully to see his mother.”
She leads my brother to the room where Ma is waiting. The room has its windows and doors screened off so their meeting seems private, but I’ve already discovered that Edward Morelle hid cameras everywhere. When I activate the holo function on my band, it’s like being in there with them.
Ma is sitting at the large table in the middle of the room when William walks in. Her 3-D holograph is so sharp, I catch every detail of her expression as it transforms with joy. She jumps out of her chair so quickly that she knocks it over and doesn’t notice.
William’s image is just as clear, but his expression is a lot harder to read. As Ma throws her arms around him, he stands stiffly with his arms by his sides, so she ends up hugging them against his body. She’s shorter than he is, and when he looks down at her head crushed against his chest, he pulls his shoulder up until they’re around his ears.
She hugs him so hard and for so long, I keep expecting William to react. To do something. But he just stands there, letting her hug him, until my throat is so tight it aches. I want to stride into the room and knock some sense into William’s stubborn head. If only I could force him to understand how much Ma has given up for him.
; Ma keeps hugging him for so long I can’t bear it.
Slowly, painfully, William’s shoulders drop, and his arms inch their way up until his hands settle on Ma’s lower back. He lowers his head so his face is beside her hair. Then he’s actually hugging her, and his face contorts. His eyes brim with tears.
The lump in my throat expands until it’s so big it’s choking me.
I switch off the holo, and the two figures vanish. Then I walk over to the opaque window and take a few deep breaths. I’ve done all I can. What happens next is up to them.
My band vibrates, and when I look down, I see Cassandra is calling. “Madam President, I’m sorry to disturb you. You have an urgent call. It’s Hendrick.”
“Hendrick?” I ask.
She hesitates, and I can hear her confusion in the length of her silence. Hendrick must be someone Morelle knows well.
“The Beast,” she says eventually.
“Ah.” I blink at my barely-there reflection in the opaque glass. I wonder if he’s anything like the stories people tell about him. “Connect us,” I tell Cassandra.
A man’s face materializes from my band’s holo display. He must be from New Triton, but he doesn’t look like any floater I’ve ever seen. He’s a lot bigger than most, with a meaty face and not a single hair on his head. Some sinkers are bald, but for a tweaked New Tritoner to have a shiny head means he must have designed it that way. He has no eyebrows either, and such a thick neck that his head seems to flow straight into his shoulders. He’s the biggest meat-sack I’ve ever seen. Somebody who clearly doesn’t want to look like other floaters.
The Beast is one of the powerful industrialists Sentin was talking about, a billionaire who owns factories in Old Triton. He’s a recluse who stays out of the public eye, and there are a lot of rumors about him. One of those rumors is that he really does look like a beast. That one seems mostly true. He’s a huge, hairless beast who happens to wear a suit.
“Ed,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly.
My heart stops. I jerk my face away from his image, faking a cough to cover my shock.
The Beast thinks I’m Edward Morelle? That means he knows this is a Skin.