by Julia Keller
“But how—” Violet’s throat was bone dry. She had to take a few quick swallows before she could go on. “Okay, so I know how. She’s got the Intercept. But why go to Old Earth?”
“Best place to hide while she’s refining her skills,” Kendall answered. “The longer she’s down there, the better she’s going to get. She’ll go from controlling one or two people at a time—to taking over New Earth. Even with just a tiny portion of the Intercept, she can do it. She’s learned enough from Rodney to pull this off.”
“Hold on,” Shura said. “Sara’s just a loser with a grudge. She can’t possibly do something this … this massive.”
“Don’t underestimate her,” Violet said. “And don’t underestimate the corrosive power of disappointment. It’s eaten away at Sara until there’s nothing left that any of us would recognize. The woman you knew—the woman I knew—is gone. She’s gone, okay? What’s left is somebody with endless pain and a monumental hate—and access to a device that can get inside the mind of any of us, whenever she wants. If she learns how to do it on a mass scale—like Kendall says, we’re in big trouble.”
Violet looked into each friend’s face, one by one, as she spoke her next words. She needed to be sure that everyone understood the full import of her proclamation: Kendall, Shura, Tin Man, Jonetta.
“I need every person in this room,” she declared, “to join me and go down to Old Earth to stop her. It’s going to be difficult. It’s going to be dangerous. Some of us may not come back at all. Is that okay with everybody?”
No one answered out loud, but Violet read the answer in their eyes. They were with her all the way.
Jonetta had already begun raiding the supply cabinet, loading necessities in a red canvas tote: laptops, yellow rain slickers, bottles of water, spare consoles. Tin Man helped her. Shura checked the contents of her medical bag.
“So everybody’s sure about this?” Kendall asked. “You all know what we’re in for?”
Four grunts of agreement followed his question. The time for making speeches was over.
They moved toward the door.
“I’ll be right there,” Violet said. “Give me a minute. I left something back on my desk.”
“We’ll meet you out front,” Kendall said. “But don’t take too long.”
* * *
Violet activated her console. A shimmering white dot arose. She touched it, and the ancient, sunken face of Ogden Crowley materialized on the screen. At the sight of him—she loved every wrinkle and groove in that face, she loved the set of that jaw and the banked fire in those watery eyes—Violet coughed, trying to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat.
“Dad,” she said once she’d heard his shaky Hello. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to say—” She faltered.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I just wanted to tell you how much I love you.”
That wasn’t their way. Violet and her father did not pepper their interactions with “I love you” the way some people did, as if every conversation was a stew that needed the same seasoning, over and over again. Ogden Crowley was too reserved and too practical to have any patience for that ritual, and he had raised Violet to be the same way. Violet had witnessed Shura and her parents ending each encounter with “I love you,” but she’d never understood it. Why repeat something that the other person already knew?
Tonight, she finally understood. She was compelled to say it to her father. Out loud. In case she didn’t make it back.
How could she ever have suspected—even for an instant—that he might be involved in resurrecting the Intercept? Ogden Crowley didn’t operate that way. He was open and straightforward. He could be stubborn, and he always believed he knew best, but he wasn’t sneaky.
She, on the other hand, was sneaky—but it was for a good cause. She couldn’t tell her father where she was going and what she needed to do and the danger that waited for her down on Old Earth. He’d try to stop her. She was forced to lie to him.
“Violet?” he said. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine, Dad.”
* * *
By the time Violet joined her friends out on the street, she noticed something odd. She did a quick head count. It was true: Now she had five companions, not four.
Standing next to Jonetta was a little girl in a dark suit with a pissed-off expression on her face.
“Rachel?” Violet said. “What are you doing here?”
Rez’s little sister held up her wrist. A black jewel bounced above the face of her console. “I came right over because the check you sent to settle your legal bill didn’t go through. I just took a look at my account. I thought you might be working late and we could talk about it. I also thought you’d be alone. Sorry to embarrass you in front of your friends, but—”
“It’s okay.” Violet laughed a short, bitter laugh. “You know what, Rachel? Least of my worries right now.”
Rachel seemed to realize, all at once, how strange it was for people to have gathered on the sidewalk in front of Violet’s office at this time of night. “What’s going on?” she said. She knew the faces that surrounded her, except for that of the large man with the tattoos and the ear piercings, because she’d sometimes tagged along when her big brother got together with his friends. “Jonetta? Kendall? Shura? What’s the deal?”
Violet let Jonetta fill her in while she checked the chip-jack signal. She had to make sure they’d be able to find Sara. She also sent a text to Rez. He needed to know their plans.
“We’ve got to go, Rachel,” Violet said once Jonetta had finished. “I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye on my office. And I’m trusting you not to tell anybody about this until we get back, okay? We’re handling this ourselves. I’m partially responsible for what Sara’s doing, and I don’t want anybody else hurt.”
Rachel’s face still wore its pissed-off expression.
“Oh, please,” the little girl said.
“What?”
“You don’t actually believe I’m going to let you guys go down to Old Earth without me, right?”
Kendall spoke before Violet could. “No way,” he said. “You’re eleven years old.”
“And I have an IQ of 257.”
“Oh, yeah?” Kendall said. “Well, mine’s 314.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I created a new version of calculus with analytic geometry before I turned eight. And last year, I totally rewrote the New Earth Judicial Code.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, I—”
Shura took a step forward, putting herself between them. “Both of you—shut up. As entertaining as it is to watch you fight over who’s the most amazing genius in the history of the universe, we’re wasting time here. Rachel, sorry, but you can’t go with us. It’s just not safe.”
Rachel shook her head. “You can’t stop me. My brother’s down there. I have to make sure he’s okay.”
Shura hesitated. The kid had a point. She turned to Kendall. Kendall turned to Violet. Violet turned back to Rachel.
“Let me guess,” Violet said. “If we don’t let you go, you’ll run right to the authorities and tell them where we’ve gone.”
“Count on it.” Rachel’s voice was firm.
“Tin Man?” Violet said. He was in charge of security, so it was his call. “What do you think?”
Tin Man crossed his arms. He’d been looking intently at Rachel for the last few minutes, and now he looked even harder. She stared right back at him, her eyes blazing.
While the rest of them were fussing and arguing, Violet realized, Tin Man had been taking the measure of this girl, assessing her fitness to join them on this life-or-death mission that could very well determine the fate of New Earth.
“The more the merrier,” he said.
PART THREE
32
Into the Storm
By the time they arrived at the Kampura Caves on Thirlsome, a terrible storm had started to rage across Old Earth. The sky was black. Rai
n slashed down with such devilish fervor that it didn’t feel like liquid at all but like sheets of cold darkness crashing to the ground. When lightning exploded, it lit up the sky for a wretched second, as if a spear had been driven into the heart of the world, splitting it into a million brilliant shards. Then the darkness instantly closed over everything once more.
They climbed ashore clumsily, turning up the collars of their slickers against the pounding rain. Violet went first. After her came Kendall, then Shura, then Tin Man, then Jonetta, and finally Rachel. The adult-size slicker was much too big for the girl, and the bottom hem dragged along the ground.
All of their collective strength was needed to tie off the ferry at the edge of the dock; the wind tore at the craft and yanked the ropes from their hands. The wind was so cold that Violet felt as if the skin were being stripped from her fingers.
“South,” Jonetta said, checking the chip-jack readout on her console. “The signal’s weak, but it looks like Sara’s heading in that direction.” Because it was night, the chip-jack showed only darkness; that was all Sara was seeing, too. From this point onward, they would use the chip-jack essentially as a trace.
They switched on flashlights, yet the frail beams made little difference in this world of absolute blackness.
At first no one spoke as they trudged along, fighting the razor-wire wind and the stinging rain and the brutal cold. Old Earth was unpleasant enough in the daytime, but at night, in the midst of a ravaging storm, it became as brutal and dangerous as a sworn enemy. They put their heads down and drove themselves forward, pushing back against the shrieking wind.
They stumbled over rocks and tripped into ice-covered gullies, fishing each other out of the shallow troughs and waiting until the shivering subsided before marching on. They rested at times, very briefly. They did not falter. And they did not quit.
These are my friends, Violet thought, and it caused a thickness to rise in her throat. These are the people I love. We are warriors. We fight together.
If Rez had been here, the circle would be complete. She tried his console repeatedly, but the storm was interfering with the signal. She smacked her console and cursed, and then smacked it and cursed again, knowing the gesture was pointless but doing it anyway. The signal would poke through the nasty weather precisely when it wanted to—and not a second before.
Rachel let out a squeal. She’d tripped over the long coat again, sliding sideways and teetering over a muddy swamp. She ended up on her butt.
“I’ve got her,” Jonetta said. “You guys keep going.”
But Rachel didn’t want any help. She flapped a yellow sleeve angrily at her would-be rescuer. “I’m okay. I got this. Go on. I’ll catch up. Just go on.”
“No way,” Jonetta said. She grabbed Rachel’s arm and tried to free her from the incredibly stubborn mud, gasping with effort as she yanked. The black goo sucked and pulled at Rachel’s boots, which were also about four sizes too big for her.
At last there was a loud pop! as Rachel finally broke free. It sounded like a soap bubble bursting.
“Thanks,” Rachel said. “I owe you one.”
“I’ll remember that when I need a good lawyer.”
And then they ran to catch up with the others, who had been slowed up by a source more unlikely than a tumultuous storm:
The smell.
Whenever the wind died down for a few blessed seconds, the smell of Old Earth wafted up from the charred and rancid landscape. They staggered under the blow. It was the deep, fungal smell of failure and futility, of a world destroyed long before its time by greed and shortsightedness. It was the rotting stench of lost hope.
Disgusted and revolted by the odor, Violet wondered how she could ever have been curious about this place, could ever have imagined that she cared for it. Or that she could ever have asked Rez to send her pictures of it from his console.
But it’s different now, she reminded herself. I’m seeing it at night, in the midst of a storm, while searching for a killer. There were many sides to any given world, she decided, just as there were many sides to a person.
And this was Old Earth at its worst.
“Now go east,” Jonetta called out. “No, wait—make that east-northeast. Three degrees east-northeast.” She was shivering badly, and her words were quickly torn to bits by the wind. Somehow they understood her, anyway. She consulted the chip-jack signal on her console every few feet. When she needed to, she adjusted their route.
The odd thing was, of course, that the chosen destination was the last place in the world they really wanted to be: closer to a ruthless murderer. They were walking into a trap that wasn’t a trap at all, not really, because they knew full well what awaited them when they got there. They would face the vicious wrath of a woman who had lost touch with her sense of what was good or decent or honorable, and who dreamed of dominion.
They marched for an hour.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Jonetta continued to call out changes in the coordinates. Violet could sense—but could not see, because of the blinding rain and battering wind—that they were getting close to the mountain in which the prison was located. Which also meant they were getting close to the first rides Rez was constructing for Olde Earth World. All of that—Rez’s enthusiasm, his plans for the future, the future itself—seemed very far away now. A trapdoor had opened in Violet’s soul, and all of the good and simple and ordinary things had dropped away.
* * *
A vivid flash of lightning suddenly illuminated the landscape. In that moment of clarity, they could see bits and pieces of Rez’s project: the massive steel support beams for a tram track, the rudimentary framing for an enormous castle, the iron scaffolding that constituted the initial stage of the roller coaster.
“What’s that?” Tin Man said. He’d flipped off the hood of his slicker to give himself a better look. He didn’t stop walking, but his steps slowed a bit so he could behold the enormous structures taking shape in this, the most unlikely of places for new development.
“Olde Earth World,” Violet replied.
He couldn’t hear her over the roar of the wind. “WHAT?” he said.
“OLDE EARTH WORLD!” She shouted it this time, but he still couldn’t hear.
Tin Man started to ask another question, but the rain was coming down too hard and too fast for him to walk any longer without his hood, so he nodded as if her answer had made perfect sense and covered his head once more.
Each time the lightning flashed, they were treated to another glimpse of Rez’s amusement park—or at least the glittering bones of it, the preliminary infrastructure. The rides looked imaginative and sleek and appealing. In other words, pure Rez, Violet thought. Even if Tin Man didn’t know precisely what it was, he would know it was something special.
Then the lightning would die in the sky, and the world was cloaked once more in solid darkness. The half-completed rides returned to the dream-state from which they had come. Reality meant rain and wind and cold, not trams and castles and coasters.
“I just don’t see,” Shura muttered to Violet, shouldering her way against the relentless rain, “how somebody could get that upset over a job. I mean, a job’s a job. How could losing a job make Sara go so totally off the rails?”
“So a job’s a job, is it?”
“Yeah.”
“Is that how you feel about your painting? Or your medical practice?” Violet asked. She leaned forward as she trudged, folding her arms across the front of her slicker to keep the wind from peeling the material back from her body.
“Not the same thing.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Well, because medicine and art are … well, what I mean is, Sara was basically a clerk in the transport unit,” Shura said. “It’s not a passion profession.”
Violet shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what anybody else thinks of it. She loved what she did. She felt she’d found her destiny. And then it was taken a
way from her.”
Fighting a sudden upsurge in the wind, Shura and Violet were forced to lean forward even more severely, until their backs were nearly parallel to the ground.
“You almost sound like you sympathize with her,” Shura said.
“No. I’m just saying that I understand what it’s like to lose something you love. It makes you … a little crazy. Or a lot crazy. It can strip away your equilibrium just like that.”
The wind apparently had a sense of humor, because right then a big gust of it nearly knocked them both sideways, abruptly stopping their conversation.
* * *
At some point—they could not have said precisely when—the dark clouds that had been blocking the moon drifted away. They didn’t know how long it would last. They only knew that they were able to make out the general outline of this world by the shimmering glints of moonlight. It was far from bright, but the silvery reflections here and there were better than abject darkness.
“We’re close,” Jonetta said. “The signal is stronger than it’s ever been.”
They kept moving at the same pace but drew closer together, making a tighter unit. They had no idea what they would find when they topped the next hill.
“Even stronger now,” Jonetta said ominously.
They crested the hill and started down the other side. They fought to stay upright on the steep grade. Tin Man lost his balance and fell, nearly knocking Rachel over; she was grabbed at the last minute by Kendall, who kept her from flipping up in the air when Tin Man came rolling at her feet like a runaway log.
“It’s here,” Jonetta said.
They had reached the bottom of the hill. “These are the chip-jack coordinates,” she added in an even firmer voice. “Sara’s got to be right around here. Very, very close.”
Another massive hill loomed ahead of them. Violet motioned to Kendall. He understood: They would climb it and then report back to the others. The chip-jack signal was still strong, but as yet there had been no sign of Sara.
Where was she?
“Wait here, guys,” Violet said. They were too tired to argue.