by Frankie Rose
I shiver as I make my way through the tunnels toward the ready room, where Reza’s agreed to meet with me again. I am sick of these observed meetings Chancellor Pakka put in place. I’m sick of biding my time and waiting. I’m sick of being watched over like a disobedient dog. These rules and regulations are wearing thin and fast. It’s a joke, really. Now that Reza’s remembered all the time we’ve spent together, she should have done away with this nonsense. She should have come to me without the need of an allotted time and place. It’s bullshit.
My bones feel like the burning embers of a fire as I wait. I tug on the invisible tether that exists between us, and there’s a taut resistance on the other end: Reza, fighting the draw. Her resentment echoes loudly through the connection. She feels the pull toward me. Her body wants to respond, to tug right back, to draw me to her, and she hates it. The power behind the connection makes her uncomfortable. Scared. And the link is only getting stronger. I can feel it growing day by day, taking root inside me, claiming a little more of me every time I access it to sense where she is or what she’s doing. My intrigue in her comes with a cost. In the past, that cost has been so small that it’s been negligible. I’ve paid it without even thinking. Now, with the price increasing daily, requiring more and more of me, I’m beginning to spend a little more frugally.
When Reza finally arrives, Col is in tow behind her. Dark circles rim his eyes, and his shoulders have rounded in on him over the past few days, giving him the look of a beaten down man. I’m the one gripped in the depths of withdrawal, craving something I can’t have, and yet it looks as if Col’s the one desperate for a fix. “I hear congratulations are in order,” I say, when he sits down next to Reza on the other side of the table. “Nominated for chancellor. Very auspicious.”
Col sinks back into his chair, rubbing tiredly at his left eye. “I’m not going to be chancellor. It’s all Darius. He didn’t even consult me before he made that announcement.”
I reach out and read him a little, looking for the lie. He must be glowing inside with pride that there’s even the slightest chance he could be selected to rule in his mother’s footsteps. He must be secretly fantasizing about the perks that come with the job. The women he could sleep with, or the mischief he could make. There’s no pride inside him, though. I probe a little deeper, scanning the perimeters of his mind, hunting for the guilty, hidden little corner where his dark thoughts live. I find no corner. I find nothing except exhaustion, pain, sorrow and grief.
“Stop,” Reza hisses. “Stop that right now. It’s not your place. Col deserves his privacy, just like anyone else.”
Col’s eyes widen, flitting from Reza to me. “I thought it hurt when you looked inside my head.”
“It does,” I answer. “When I want it to. Pain makes it hard for people to hide things. Sometimes it’s easier to sneak in and out undetected, though.” I had no idea Reza would be able to tell I was invading Col’s mind. I had no idea it was possible for anyone else to detect that kind of thing. Perhaps she’s learning how to read our connection, the same way I’ve learned to. Perhaps…
I lay my hands flat on the table, rocked by my last thought. Perhaps she’s been able to sense the agony burning inside me. Perhaps she’s been able to detect just how much I’ve been suffering over the past two days. I look at Reza, and she gives me a knowing look at that makes my teeth hurt. Fuck. How could I have assumed she wouldn’t want to investigate the link between us? She has an inquisitive mind. She wants to know how things work, and she wants to be able to defend herself. The link between us is a danger to her. It’s no surprise that she would want to understand it and potentially learn how to sever it.
It’s a rude awakening that my secrets might not be safe. I haven’t had to erect high walls around my mind. For as long as I’ve served the Construct, no one has been capable of looking inside my head. The elders assumed I was the only person left in the galaxy capable of such a thing. If they knew Reza might be able to do the things I can do…? If they knew these seers still existed here on Pirius…?
I would not have enjoyed such an untouchable position amongst the Construct ranks, that’s for certain. I would have had to toe the line much more than I did. I am far stronger than Reza, though. And the seers were nothing more than children, playing at grown up games. Without access to their visions now, they’re even less than that. I barricade my mind, shutting out the link to Reza, and her face registers surprise. Have I ever severed the link before? Have I ever disconnected us so abruptly? I don’t think I have. And I don’t think she can sever it. If she could, it would be cut every second of every day, I have no doubt in my mind. Reza leans back into her chair, an expression of brief bewilderment on her face. Col arches an eyebrow, leaning in to whisper to her. “Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yes. Yes, I was just dizzy for a moment. I’m fine now, though. Better than fine, actually. I feel normal.” She laughs, a breathless, happy sound, and suddenly I want to reconnect with her again. I want to feel what she’s feeling down the link. I want to experience her happiness and her surprise for myself. Feeling Reza’s happiness down our bond is intoxicating. Experiencing her joy has always, confusingly, been a much more intense a high than the Light that flows through my veins.
Reza meets my gaze and blinks quickly, the relief in her eyes clear. Being free of me is a gift. Being able to simply be herself without the weight of another consciousness tethered to her is a blissful reprieve. For me, feeling Reza’s mind on the other end of that line has been a reassurance I’ve enjoyed in a lot of ways.
“Fine. Let’s get on with this then,” Col says. “The sooner you have the information you require from Reza, the sooner we can all get on with our lives. We have a ship we can give you, Jass. The storms will break in a couple of days. There’ll be a number of launch windows. It’d be better for everyone concerned if you leave during one of those windows.”
I stab my fingernail into the grain of the slowly rotting wooden table between us, a sardonic grin stretching my mouth into a grimace. “You’ve given up on our life-long friendship, then, Pakka. I told you common sense would prevail.”
Col shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “If you haven’t noticed, one of my mother’s visions was recently proved to be wrong,” he says quietly. “When a seer dies, their visions become fluid. Shifting and changeable. They can be affected by the ebb and flow of other seers’ visions. So… yes. I’m sure my mother’s vision of us becoming friends was nothing more than a glitch. A weird, cosmic joke the galaxy played on her. On me. I’ve put it out of mind.” He seems chagrinned, as if he’s mad at himself for even contemplating such a bizarre turn of events would ever be true. Col clears his throat in a perfunctory manner, pulling his chair a little closer to the table. “Ask your questions, Beylar. You have thirty minutes, and then I have to leave.”
I glance at Reza, assessing the awkward way her arms are folded around her body. So she hasn’t told Pakka about the previous meetings we’ve shared. She hasn’t told him that we know each other far more than he could possibly ever know.
“Why do you even need to be here in the first place?” I ask, still smiling.
“To protect Reza, of course.”
“And how would you do that? How would you save her life if I took that knife from the inside pocket of your vest and I pressed it up against her throat?”
A long second passes, where we stare at each other. Col has a decision to make. He needs to decide whether I really am going to take his knife from him and attack Reza with it, or if I’m not. I see him searching for the truth in my eyes. I feel him picking me apart as best he can. He narrows his eyes after a moment, the tension that’s been building in his shoulders loosening a little. Apparently he’s made up his mind: I’m not going to assault anyone today. Grand.
I turn my attention to Reza. “What do you remember of your home planet?”
She blinks at me, confused. Eyes as green as the infinite fields that used to surround The Nexus, before t
he Construct stripped the landscape bare and turned it into a barren, rocky, unforgiving place. “I don’t understand,” she says. “I remember nothing. I was only seven when the Construct—”
“What kind of place was it?” I press. “A water planet? A sandy, desert planet, like Pirius? A planet of forests and trees for miles in every direction? What did it look like, Reza?”
She shakes her head quickly, looking down at the table. “I’m not sure. When I think back to that place, all I remember is…panic. The day the Construct ships broke through the atmosphere and opened fire on the city.”
“So there was a city.” I clench my jaw, trying not to grind my teeth together so hard. This is just so frustrating. If I could slip into her mind freely, I could access memories she doesn’t even know she still possesses. There’s something very different about the memories I can see inside someone else’s mind compared to the way they see them themselves. They’re more faithful and exact. They’re unclouded by emotions. A person’s own emotions always distort their recollection of events and places. As an outsider, I can sift through traumatic experiences without getting sucked into dread and anxiety that goes hand in hand with them.
Reza nods, her eyes glazing over. “A city with tall spires. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Wide, paved streets. And great white buildings with high columns. Always busy. Always bustling.”
Bile rises in the back of my throat, sharp and unpleasant. “And the people. What do you remember about them?”
Reza’s face crumples. “I don’t know. Nothing really.”
“Were they doctors? Architects? Flight technicians? What did they do every day? What was their purpose?”
“I don’t know, Jass. I was too young to know.” Frustration tinges her voice—she obviously doesn’t like thinking about this stuff—but I’m not going to cease my line of questioning now. Not when we’re finally getting somewhere. And she made a promise. A stupid bargain that we both know is a farce, and I’ve held up my end of the deal.
“Think. Try harder. The information’s right there in your head. You just need to dig a little deeper is all.”
“Hey. She said she doesn’t remember. You’re can’t force her to remember something if the information just isn’t there.” Col is terse and edgy. The stresses of the past few days are finally taking their toll on him; he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping, which, for once, has nothing to do with me. I haven’t been traipsing around inside his dreams at all. I flash him a disingenuous, tight smile, showing him my teeth.
“Just trying to show a little encouragement,” I tell him. “She does have the information trapped inside that skull of hers. I’m just trying to help her get it out.”
“Why do you want to know about my home planet, anyway?” Reza asks. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Pirius, or the Construct for that matter. My people have been dead for cycles.”
“I’m just intrigued, I suppose. Why did the Construct destroy them?”
“I’ve no idea why. Do they even need a reason to wipe out entire planets? When I was trapped on the Invictus, the elders ordered us to destroy seventeen planets in total, and I never knew why. It seemed utterly random.”
This doesn’t surprise me. The Construct doesn’t share the logic or reasoning behind their actions with the lower echelons of the order. Why should they? A soldier’s life is basic obedience and nothing more. A soldier who asks why is a soldier who is no longer reliable as a blunt implement you can wield to do your bidding. They must either be promoted or destroyed, and promotions are almost impossible to come by in the Construct.
“As far as what drove my people,” Reza continues. “I’m not sure. They weren’t designers or healers. As far as I can piece together, they were intellects. Scientists. People traveled to meet with them from all over the galaxy. There were always very important people visiting.” She closes her eyes, frowning, bowing her head. “The streets were always lined with streamers and banners. There were celebrations every other day. Everyone was smiling all the time. Everyone was happy. I think…I think my parents were important. I remember a lot of people coming to see them all the time. There were men in strange robes who came many times, and they were always very grateful when they left. They hugged my mother a lot.”
“Did you ever hear them talk of a weapon?” I ask slowly. “A new kind of weapon they were going to build and sell?”
Reza’s eyes open slowly. She lifts her head, and the connection tugs at my insides, insistently pushing at my defenses, demanding to be let in. It’s grown stronger even as we’ve sat here talking. Reza notices it, too. She blanches as she tilts her head to one side and flares her nostrils. “I know nothing about a weapon. My parents weren’t involved in things like that.”
So sure. So self-righteous. How can she speak with such authority and confidence, if she claims to remember so little? I do my best to hide my annoyance, though it’s difficult. “Okay. I believe you,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “There must be something else you remember about the place, though,” I say. “The weather. The seasons. The suns. The transport, or the music, or the—”
“The blood sun,” Reza whispers. She’s distant right now, as if she’s become untethered from this reality and she’s floated off somewhere far away. “Every few cycles, there was a blood sun. The entire star would turn crimson in the sky, and the city would be bathed in red light. I don’t know why it happened, or how long it lasted, but I remember the blood sun was very important to my people. It brought with it prosperity, luck and happiness, or…”
Even Col seems interested. “Or?”
“Or it brought misery, pain, and misfortune,” Reza finishes. “During the first hours of the blood sun’s arrival, everyone stood out in the streets, their heads craning up to watch the star rise in the sky. They’d all be waiting to see what happened. If…” She pauses. “If the blood sun was clear in the sky when it first appeared, all would be well. But if the sky was cloudy and the corona of the sun was obscured, people believed it was an ill omen.”
“Tragic superstitions,” I whisper under my breath. There’s a tightness in my belly, though. A rigidity that’s making me nauseous. Brushing my hair back out of my face, I lean across the table, focusing all of my attention on Reza. She’s so damn beautiful. Her hair is sandy brown, but more interesting than that—shot through with gold and silver, as if it’s woven from fine, precious metals. Her long, wispy fringe is very pale, bleached by the suns, though it looks as though it’s been kissed by moonlight instead. The freckles scattered across the slender bridge of her nose are delicate and faint, but they lend her a girlish quality that makes her look younger than she really is. Her mouth is full, swollen from the frequency with which she chews at her lips when she’s nervous, which is all of the time. Despite her nerves, though, there’s a fire inside of her. An inferno that will consume anyone who stands in her way. I can see it plain as day, even if she can’t. Yet. She will, though. She’ll soon recognize the powerful flame that’s helped her survive this long in such a hostile environment, and she’ll learn to use it to her advantage. A wave of nausea tumbles over me, making my vision dance a little, and out of nowhere I feel as if I’m about to pass out. I take a hold of myself, forcing myself to sit up straight in my chair, refusing to let my consuming need for Light rear its ugly head. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore, though. Day and night, unless I’m thinking about Reza, I’m obsessed by the idea of trekking out into the dunes to try and find my military bag.
“What else happened during this blood sun?” I ask, my breath skating over the words lightly, as I try and keep myself from shaking.
“Ceremonies. Rituals. Blessings. I can’t remember the specifics. If the sun was a harbinger of wealth and good fortune, on the night of its arrival there was always a grand celebration. A huge coliseum, with sweets and food, and dancing and music. I remember people laughing and chasing one another through the streets. My older sister kissed a boy who lived next door to us.”
Reza’s face is filled with wonder, as if this is the first time she’s stretched these synapses, retrieving these particular snapshots from the lockers of her mind. “My sister…” She seems amazed by the very idea. “There was a great statue in the center of the coliseum,” she says, her voice lifting. “A respected leader of my planet. It was a tall bronze statue. People sat at its feet, playing instruments and telling jokes. It was so tall. I used to think it reached all the way up to the sky.”
There’s a cold fist around my heart, and its grip is tightening by the second. I feel like I can’t breathe let alone think. Reza looks up, dragging herself from her past back into the present. Her eyes meet mine, and I realize I’m staring at her.
“What? What is it?” she asks.
I tear my gaze away from her, so I’m staring straight ahead at the door behind Col. “Nothing. I was just thinking.” Lie. Lie. Lie. I was not thinking at all. I was reeling from the realization that’s just hit me, and I was doing a horrible job of hiding the fact.
“This isn’t going anywhere,” Col says. “The meeting for the nominees starts soon and I can’t be late, anyway.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you didn’t want to be chancellor?”
Col’s grimace would be comical if it didn’t make him look even more tired than he already does. “I don’t. But unfortunately my attendance at these things is mandatory. If I don’t show up at all, I get detained and held in the stockade for the day as punishment.”
Personally, the idea of Col trapped inside a stockade is kind of funny. I can see why he wouldn’t think so, though. “Go on then,” I tell him, gesturing to the door with a flick of my wrist. “We’ll continue on without you. I’m sure Reza will give you the cliff notes once you’ve fulfilled your civic duties.”