by Chris Babu
He tugged at his tie, apparently lost for words.
Perhaps he was debating if he should summon the Guardians outside, Drayden worried.
“Please do,” he said, motioning toward the chairs facing the desk. He walked behind his desk and sat. “What can I do for you?”
You know exactly why I’m here, you shkat flunk.
“I’m trying to find out about my mom’s exile. Since she worked for you and you’re a senior Bureau member, I figured you might have some information.”
“I’m sorry, Drayden. She wasn’t just one of the best managers in the FDC system, she was also a friend. I was devastated and angry when I found out.”
Nervous sweat glued Drayden’s T-shirt to his back. “So you didn’t know about it?”
“No, absolutely not. Believe me. I made a big deal about it the very next day in the Bureau.” He radiated indignance. “They don’t announce exiles either before or after. It’s not like the Bureau posts them up on a board somewhere. If I had known about it beforehand, I may have been able to stop it. That’s what got me so angry. It’s a disgrace.” He shook his head.
Locke was playing it perfectly. Very convincing. He seemed sincere. Drayden was about to drop the bomb on him, though.
“I know, Mr. Locke.”
“Exactly, a real travesty. As upset as I was, I can’t imagine how much it must have distressed you and your family.”
“No, Mr. Locke. I know. About you and my mom.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes. You do.”
Silence.
Locke’s face turned red. “Life…life is…complicated, Drayden. Things happen. Unexpected things. You’ll learn that as you get older.”
A tiny spark of rage ignited inside Drayden. A little ball of fizzling fire, growing more intense with each passing second. He pictured this fat scum trying to kiss his mother.
“She was married,” he said through gritted teeth. “To my father.”
Locke remained calm, leaning back in his chair. “I didn’t expect my own wife to die, years ago. Like I said, life often has twists and turns we can’t foresee.”
Drayden felt angry tears welling. “Mr. Locke, it’s not like an accident, like she tripped and her lips landed on yours. I don’t know why you’re talking about it like you had no control over it.”
The slightest smirk appeared on Locke’s face. “It takes two to tango, doesn’t it?”
Drayden almost leapt out of his chair. How dare he? His mother was dead; he shouldn’t be sullying her good name. He took a breath. He had to hold it together. He needed information from Locke and any more aggression would lead to him being escorted out.
“Drayden, just so you know, your mother talked about you constantly. She loved you so much and was so proud of you. I knew you were a genius and deserved to live here in the Palace, among the greatest minds in New America. I invited her to move here with you and Wesley.”
Drayden’s jaw practically hit the floor. How could all of this have gone on under his nose? How could his mother have kept these secrets from him?
“She—”
“She said no,” Drayden exclaimed. “Obviously. Is that why you had her exiled?”
Locke’s outrage was visible. He jabbed a finger at Drayden. “I’m going to grant you a pass on that very serious accusation because you’re just a child. One who lost his mother.” He took a few deep breaths, regaining his composure. “You clearly don’t know how exiles work. Bureau members can’t go around exiling whomever they want,” he said. “I’m the last person in the world that would exile her anyway.” He leaned forward. “She said yes, Drayden. She was going to leave your father.”
No!
Drayden balled his hands into fists. This guy was a liar, plain and simple. A snake.
“Oh please. For you? I don’t think so.”
It was a mistake to come here. What did he think, that Locke would simply admit what he’d done? Apologize? Of course he would deny it. Now that Drayden knew what a liar he was, his words were irrelevant anyway.
Locke cocked his head. “I can understand that you’re angry, but instead of looking to take that anger out on other people, I suggest you examine the source of your anger. I think you’re angry at your mother.”
Drayden shot to his feet, the ball of fire inside him exploding.
Locke reached for a button on his desk.
Drayden turned to leave before he called in the Guardians.
“Drayden!” Locke shouted.
He stopped.
“One more thing. Be careful asking questions about this. The Palace is a small place, and people talk. They would not look kindly upon you if they find out you’re investigating this.”
Drayden slouched on the steps of Federal Hall across from the New York Stock Exchange. The late afternoon sun was trying and failing to break through the clouds. People passed by, some of whom waved at him. These people must have been either oblivious or indifferent to the plight of New America.
The meeting with Nathan Locke hadn’t cleared anything up. On the contrary, it scrambled things further. While Drayden couldn’t believe anything he said, his denials around the exile were forceful. What motivation did he have to lie about it? If Locke was responsible, he knew Drayden couldn’t do anything about it. He even seemed like the kind of guy who would admit what he’d done just to anger Drayden.
It could be time to accept that the Bureau spoke the truth. They picked people at random in the Dorms to exile, and his mother was simply unlucky.
The Bureau’s policy was barbaric and unfair, but it wasn’t illogical. The city didn’t have enough resources to support the population anymore. They believed they had a choice between exiling a few people or allowing everyone to die. It was the essence of the philosophy of utilitarianism, which his original mentor Mr. Kale had taught them about in school. It also echoed the words of Spock, from the one Star Trek movie played in the Dorms—The Wrath of Khan. He said the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. The red-and-green-hats challenge in the Initiation was even designed to drive the message home. All might be done, but for one, was how they had phrased it. They’d said a group’s well-being superseded any individual’s.
Lily Haddad had claimed nineteen people were exiled in April alone. It was not as if Drayden’s mother was the only one. Maybe he was trying to solve a mystery that didn’t exist. If one evil person bore responsibility, it was easier to comprehend and simpler to punish the monster. If it was just the Bureau-at-large executing a strategy, it wasn’t as easy to direct his wrath. Holding the entire Bureau accountable wouldn’t be so straightforward. Still, it could be done. Mr. Kale had encouraged him to enter the Initiation to fix this broken system of government. In an ideal world, overturn it.
He beheld the giant figure on his left.
The oversized statue of George Washington towered on the steps leading up to Federal Hall. He was, arguably, the greatest revolutionary in United States history. Or one of the most famous anyway. Overthrowing British rule must have sounded insane at one time too.
Drayden removed the green Yankees cap his mother had given him and held it with his eyes closed. On more than one occasion during the Initiation, he was sure she had contacted him when he touched that hat. In the Initiation’s final moment, when he’d swiped it to run through the finish line, he was overcome with the feeling that he should save Charlie instead. He’d believed she protected him sometimes. During the red-and-green-hats challenge, he had a fifty percent chance of surviving. It wasn’t luck that had saved him.
It sounded crazy, revisiting it now. Back then he was under incredible stress, exhaustion, and the influence of narcotic painkillers, but something told him he wasn’t imagining it. As he felt the hat now, he could sense his mother watching over him. Possibly even contacting him.
In that moment, he fel
t unsettled. Something was off. Was it something Locke had said? It wasn’t that he’d denied exiling Drayden’s mother. That was expected. He could’ve been telling the truth as well. He’d made some valid points. Besides that garbage about blaming his mother for their affair. His mother, the saint of the Dorms. What a load of shkat, trying to flip the blame onto her.
Drayden held his head in his hands. He supposed she hadn’t exactly been a saint. Not that Locke was right.
But dammit, Mom, why did you do that? Why?
What a mess he was in now. Almost dying in the Initiation, probably about to die on the expedition, and it all led back to this stupid affair with a fat old guy.
No. No no no. I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean it.
This was not his mother’s fault. She could never have known she’d be exiled. No, it was something else about the confrontation with Locke that felt off. It could have been Locke recognizing him, or his veiled threat about investigating the exile as Drayden departed. That was a chess match, and Locke had made an error, except Drayden couldn’t see what it was yet. There were still too many pieces on the board.
Premier Holst’s explanation of the exiles also bothered him for some reason other than its cruelty.
After the Initiation Holst had said that once the Bureau decided to shrink the population, they wouldn’t exile scientists or Guardians. They were too valuable, which was why they focused on the Dorms. That implied they considered someone’s value to society when deciding whom to exile. If that were the case, they would have applied the same logic inside the Dorms, where a clear hierarchy of importance also existed. Drayden’s mother was one of the most invaluable and senior Dorm members. She managed the FDC, and she was tremendous at it. Obviously, every life was meaningful, which was why the idea of exiles was so repugnant. But by their rationale, why not exile a seamstress instead? There were hundreds of them. Mom’s exile was inconsistent with the Bureau’s reasoning.
He couldn’t give up yet. Hopefully the rendezvous with Kim Craig tomorrow would put the issue to bed; then he could focus on the other pressing issue: not dying on the expedition.
CHAPTER 7
Drayden and the others wore casual clothes to meet their Guardian escorts. Imitation jeans and sweatshirts all around. Although they were meeting in the Guardian facility in Battery Park, it wasn’t a training session.
Finally, the skies had cleared, and while the air was cool, the morning sun was warm. Charlie and Sidney walked in front, and Drayden and Catrice followed. The route to the park took them down Broadway, right past Nathan Locke’s office.
“Dray, I hope these guys dig you more than Sergeant Holcomb does,” Charlie said. “He likes you about as much as Alex did.”
Nobody had spoken about Alex, Drayden’s former nemesis and Charlie’s best friend, since he’d died in the Initiation. Nor had anyone mentioned Tim. It was refreshing to hear Charlie joking about it. Drayden sure as hell wasn’t ready to laugh about his deceased friend.
“I guess it doesn’t feel normal if someone doesn’t hate me.” Drayden took Catrice’s hand, holding it as they walked. Even recalling Tim’s name evoked memories too painful to revisit.
They entered Battery Park, and hearing gunfire, headed toward the shooting range. When it emerged in the distance, one man stood on the range shooting pistols with another watching him.
“Hold your fire!” the watcher yelled. Both men wore their gray camouflage fatigues, and camouflage baseball caps. They turned and faced the teens, remaining expressionless.
“They look like fun guys,” Charlie whispered. “Can’t wait to go on a twenty-hour boat ride with them.”
Sidney whacked him on the arm. “Shut up, Charlie!” she whisper-yelled.
The man on the range holstered his weapon and joined the other guy, who appeared much older and wore a different hat than most Guardians. His was more like an actual baseball cap, while everyone else wore military baseball caps, with flat tops. The shooter seemed to be a teenager.
Drayden stopped a few feet away, awestruck by their obvious strength and toughness.
The two Guardians stood at attention and saluted.
He exchanged an awkward glance with the girls, unsure of whether saluting back was disrespectful. They weren’t Guardians themselves and hadn’t been shown how to do it.
Charlie, naturally, straightened and gave a hearty salute.
“At ease,” the older Guardian, presumably the captain, said to the younger.
Drayden, Catrice, and Sidney hadn’t yet decided whether to salute or not.
Good start, Drayden thought ruefully.
The captain had piercing blue eyes, and a brutal face, overtaken by scars. He removed his cap, walked up to Drayden, and extended his hand.
Drayden shook it, the captain squeezing with such force that it hurt. He had what Drayden referred to as “old man muscle.” While he didn’t seem like a guy who lifted weights, he was rock solid and powerful, despite being in his mid-fifties.
“Captain Jonathan Lindrick. It’s an honor to meet you,” the captain said, his tone serious. “Completing the Initiation is an incredible feat. Well done.” He rubbed his mustache, which was gray like his short hair. “Beside me is Corporal Eugene Austin, our most junior team member. The other two soldiers will be joining us in a moment.”
Corporal Austin smiled like a kid at Christmas.
Drayden couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. Tall and muscular, strong jaw, thin nose. He hated him immediately.
Sidney and Catrice both regarded the young corporal. Sidney smiled equally wide back at him.
Drayden sighed. Looks aside, the kid was probably a flunk.
Captain Lindrick stepped back, his hands clasped behind him. “I’m going to refer to you as privates. Please don’t take this as a sign of disrespect or rank respective to us. It’s just an old habit. Young people in our world are always privates. If I should yell out ‘privates,’ I’m addressing you all.” He glanced at Corporal Austin. “Now, we’re well prepared for this mission, as I trust you are. You’ll be in safe hands with us. Judging by your performance in the Initiation, we’ll be in safe hands with you.”
“Thank you, Captain Lindrick,” Drayden said. “We look forward to working with you.”
Captain Lindrick nodded at Corporal Austin, who approached.
Drayden didn’t think it was possible, but Austin’s smile grew even wider.
“Hey, you guys, I’m Corporal Austin. Call me Eugene. I’m eighteen, only two years older than you are. I hope you’ll forgive me for being so excited. This is insane! I’m meeting the legends who passed the Initiation, and I get to hang out with you for a few days. I don’t get to hang out with kids my own age too often either, so this is pretty special for me.”
Already, Drayden was having a hard time not liking this kid. He was strapping, tough, and handsome, yet childlike and innocent in his excitement. It was charming.
“Hi, Eugene, I’m Sidney,” she said, batting her eyes, fighting him for world’s widest smile.
He shook her hand, clasping it with both of his own. “Nice to meet you, Sidney. I hear you’re quite the shooter. That happens to be my specialty too.”
Drayden thought Sidney might faint.
“You must be Charlie, great to meet you.” Eugene gave him a firm shake. “I heard that after the mission they want you to join the Palace Guardian force. How awesome would that be? I’d love for us to be friends.”
Charlie was visibly as emotional as he could get. He stood tall, his lips pursed, and saluted Eugene. “Sir, yes sir,” he whispered.
Eugene shifted over in front of both Catrice and Drayden. “Catrice, Drayden, I…I’m sorry. I’m in awe of you guys. I know you wouldn’t guess this about me, but I love math and science.” He touched his hand to his chest. “I mean, I’m nothing compared to you guys. I read math books a
t night to educate myself. I’m reading about stochastic calculus now, which is probably cake for you two.”
Drayden didn’t know the first thing about stochastic calculus.
Although he was six feet tall, Eugene was a little taller. He hunched over as he spoke, as if he were trying to seem small in front of him and Catrice. While he addressed them together, he largely focused on her.
“It’s nice to meet you, Eugene.” Catrice held out her hand.
He shook it with both of his.
“Yeah, Eugene, the pleasure is all ours.” Drayden shook his hand, noting how powerful it was. His skin was calloused and rough, in contrast to Drayden’s, which was soft like a baby’s butt. “The fact that you teach yourself math at night is incredible.”
“So, Eugene,” Sidney said, touching his arm, “you’re as big and strong as Charlie and as smart as Drayden and Catrice.”
“You’re like the lovechild of me and Drayden,” Charlie deadpanned.
Drayden nudged Charlie. “I think I would have preferred if you said you and Catrice. I’d hate to imagine how we’d produce a lovechild.”
Eugene held his sides he was laughing so hard. “You guys are hilarious! And Sidney, I’m not anywhere near as smart as they are.” He inched a little closer to Catrice. “I’d love to pick your brain, see what I can learn from you.” He glanced at Drayden at the last possible second, as if suddenly remembering he was there. “Drayden, do you think you could walk me through the brainteasers from the Initiation on the boat ride? We’ll have a lot of time to kill.”
All Drayden could do was nod, because he was speechless. Eugene was amazing—tall, brawny, movie-star looks, humble, deferential, eager to learn, and possibly bright. Drayden sensed everyone else agreed. Catrice hovered close to him, and Sidney had already touched him a few times. Catrice also seemed intrigued. In situations where they met new people, she was painfully shy. It was one of her more endearing qualities. Not today, though.
She started firing questions, which was especially odd for her. “Eugene, how did you get picked for this unlucky assignment?”