A Soldier and a Liar

by Caitlin Lochner

  Walker’s voice only softens in response to the woman’s words, a fact that I respect. “Maya, I know this is a hard time for you. And I understand full well that it must be difficult to look at the gifted with an open heart after what happened to your family. But not all gifted are the same, just as not all ungifted are the same. I would ask that you reconsider your feelings toward them. Please.”

  “Ms. Walker, I am forever indebted to you for giving me a place to call home after I lost everything to Nytes,” the woman says. “But you can’t make me feel something I don’t. I told you that when you first invited me to come here. I’m not going to take that back now.”

  “I know,” Walker says. “I have no wish to force anyone to feel or believe what I do. But I would like it if you would merely give others a chance. Not everything is so black and white.” At the woman’s silence, Walker continues. “To that end, you will be shifted from your current duties to volunteering in the school for three months. You will assist both the gifted and the ungifted students who attend. While there, please do your best to get along with everyone.”

  Silence descends once more upon the crowd as the Etiole and Nyte make their way off the stage. From the overwhelming mix of emotions on my grid, I can’t tell what the general mood of the hall is.

  “What kind of punishment is that?” I ask the twins. “What’s the point?”

  Peter and Paul share a glance. It’s Paul who answers. “Whenever there’s someone who hates so broadly like that, Walker always sends them to the school. All the kids go there together, whether they’re Nyte or Etiole. And for the most part, they get along just fine. They don’t discriminate between gifted or not like adults do. Often, being around that kind of atmosphere, and being around kids in general, can help alleviate such blunt hatred. Not always, but often.”

  “A lot of people here have worked at the school at some point,” Peter adds. “Plenty of our members have been in the same position. With enough gentle pushing in the right direction, they usually come around.”

  I look at the crowd once more. The mix of people, of emotions. What kinds of experiences has everyone here had? How many of them were once so hateful?

  I find myself relieved at Walker’s “punishment.” Without meaning to, I somehow ended up hoping for a good outcome for the Etiole woman. I’ve seen firsthand in the military how harsh consequences can sometimes merely make a problem worse. But I imagine the woman can find no true self-pity or resentment in such a sentence. Walker showed concern, understanding, and fairness. She didn’t try to force anything on the woman. She merely gave her the chance to change.

  Again, that feeling of deep yearning rises within me. This is what I’ve always wanted. This sense of unrestrained empathy, understanding, and patience. This is what I’ve always been searching for and never believed could truly exist between Nytes and Etioles.

  From the stage, Walker begins speaking once more. “Friends, family. I ask you to remember why we’re all here, what we’re working for. I ask you to show compassion and understanding to those who are different from you, and even to those who hate. Pain takes time to heal. Prejudice takes time to dissolve. We must be patient and persevere, for that is the only way to win this war of hatred. It is difficult, but we can do it. One step at a time. One person at a time.”

  The air in the room and the presences on my grid immediately lighten. People turn to those around them and smile. A few people even clap before Clemente calls for the next two people to come to the stage.

  By the time Walker has settled the last domestic report, it’s two hours past midnight. If I had known it would take this long, I would have taken a nap earlier. I suppose I was still thinking I wouldn’t come then. Now I’m glad I did.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight,” Walker says. “I know it’s been hard waiting these past few years. But we must first be strong in our beliefs within our community before we try to spread them to others. Our time will come to openly advocate peace between all people. At that time, I hope you will stand together with me.”

  Cheers resound in the hall as though the sound were a living thing, and in the same heartbeat, Syon and the Woods usher me into the hall I entered from previously with Lai. “What’s the hurry?” I ask, but I allow them to lead me along regardless.

  “We need to get to the conference room before everyone starts to leave the main hall,” Peter Wood says. “It’ll get way too crowded after that.”

  I’m shepherded down the hall until it turns into a tunnel once more; then I’m led through so many snaking corridors that I lose my sense of direction. I can’t imagine ever knowing this maze so well as to navigate it when all the hallways look exactly alike.

  We eventually reach a small door at the end of one of the halls. Inside, there’s a wooden table with perhaps fifteen mismatched chairs centering the space; filing cabinets line two of the walls. Maps cover the other two, much like in Central’s meeting rooms. Tacks and strings haphazardly cross over them in patterns I don’t understand.

  Walker, Clemente, and Seung are already seated at the table; how they succeeded in getting here before us is a mystery. In any case, having the three leaders of the Order gathered together before us makes me uneasy. I don’t see Lai, either.

  Paul Wood must notice my unease at her absence, because he whispers, “Lai always stays behind after meetings to talk with the information division. She isn’t here in person very often, so she has to make the most of it when she is. She should be here soon.”

  “Thank you,” I murmur back.

  Walker stands, and now I can finally see her clearly. She’s lean and tall, wearing a regal black coat and uniform trimmed in silver with matching knee-high boots. Her thick, dark red hair is clasped at the back of her head, ends sticking up, and a wave of bangs falls across her forehead. I have to remind myself that this isn’t how she truly appears; it’s merely an illusion created by Seung. Still, I didn’t anticipate that I’d be meeting the actual leader of the Order. My gut twists.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Walker says with a small smile. Her voice carries the lilt of a western accent.

  I give a small bow of my head, both knowing and feeling that I need to be polite to this person. “The pleasure is mine. Thank you for allowing a stranger like me to attend one of the Order’s meetings like this.”

  Walker waves her hand for me to lift my head. “Not at all. We are always looking for those who might wish to take part in our cause. From what Lai has said, it sounds like you would be a good match. Tell me, what did you think of the meeting?”

  “You seem to have a very organized system,” I say carefully as I straighten. “Your followers appear to respect you a great deal, and the harmony of this group is unbelievable. You have an amazing community here.”

  Walker’s entire expression brightens as she claps her hands together. Such an honest reaction takes me aback. “I was hoping you would like it. Then, will you join us?”

  I know she mentioned joining only a few heartbeats ago, yet still, the direct question rips the floor out from under me. Me? Join the Order?

  “I am already a part of the military,” I say. “I don’t have any time to commit to anything outside of that.” Nor am I certain it wouldn’t be considered treason. Recalling the information the Order has but won’t share with the military, I wonder if my merely being here and knowing all this isn’t treason in and of itself.

  “We would never ask you to do anything you didn’t want to,” Walker says, unperturbed by my response. “Nor anything you felt you couldn’t do. We would ask only that you come to the meetings to stay up to date.”

  “Then why ask me to join at all when you would gain nothing from it?”

  Walker smiles that small, quiet smile from before. “It isn’t about gaining or losing anything. We just want people to support the idea that the gifted and ungifted can live together in peace. And if you, a person in a position of power, were to assist in spreading that idea when we f
inally go public, I think it would give it more weight. That is all.”

  My heart is pounding. I know—I know I shouldn’t, but I ask, “If you’re truly about peace, then why do you all have power crystals from someone who’s helping the rebels?”

  Silence falls like a solid thing into the room. No one looks at anyone else. Walker closes her eyes, but when she looks back up at me again, her gaze is unwavering. “An old friend and one of the original members of the Order gave us these crystals. He left us some years ago and we have not been in contact since. I doubt he knows anything of what our group has become since then. We suspect he has joined the rebels, but our investigation is still ongoing.”

  I wish I was able to use my gift to sense whether she’s lying, but everyone in the room is still under their respective crystals’ protection. Walker doesn’t appear to be lying, but I grew up in the company of enough politicians and businessmen to know you can’t trust appearances.

  “So?” Walker prompts. “Will you join us?”

  I’m not certain what to say. My first reaction is yes, which is frightening. I have no desire to betray the military in any way, and not merely because I don’t wish to face the consequences of an action like that. I’ve given everything I have to them these past many years. I’ve always believed that though wrong in some ways, they are ultimately fighting for the good of the sector.

  But then I saw the people here. I felt that choking longing to be a part of such an empathetic community. The idea that I could be seen as a person and not merely a Nyte, and that I could learn to see Etioles in the same way, is a realistic one here. A place where patience and understanding rule over hatred, where you’re encouraged to be sympathetic over dealing blind justice.

  I’ve never felt so strongly that I wanted a group to thrive. To succeed. I look at the people here, and I think that they’re attempting to do true good. When I compare them with the military, it feels obvious who’s in the right. Who I should side with. Who I truly want to side with.

  And when I think of that, I wonder what it is I’m doing. What I’ve been doing all these years. Much as when I was back in my room at Central debating whether or not to meet with Lai, I think of my time in the military. The never-changing state of things, the stagnating, constantly unfulfilled me.

  Deep-rooted desire pulls against duty pulls against doubt pulls against loyalty in my chest. I know only what the Order has chosen to show me. They’re suspicious in more ways than one. But then again, if what they said about the High Council really is true, they and the military, who work under them, are no less so. No matter what, I need to be careful.

  However, I can’t deny the incredibly strong feeling that I want to be a part of this. Isn’t peace between the gifted and ungifted what I’ve always wanted? Isn’t that why I’m fighting to protect the ungifted now? It’s true I can fight in the military, but what about here, where they’re fighting in a way that reaches deeper than physical blows? In the way I always wanted to fight?

  I want this.

  I joined the military because I felt I had no other place to go. But now it isn’t like that. I can choose something I want merely because I want it, because I feel it’s something right; not because I’m trying to please anyone or because I have no other alternatives. I can make my own choice. I can choose to go after something I want.

  I close my eyes. When I open them again, everyone is watching me. “I want to join the Order.”

  20

  LAI

  THE AFTERNOON AFTER Jay decided to join the Order—a fact that still makes me bounce with every step—I tell myself I won’t go meet him. That I’ll train with Al or makes notes on last night’s meeting. And yet I somehow find myself standing outside his and Mendel’s door.

  What am I doing? There are a million other things I need to be working on right now. And yet …

  I knock. “Jay? You home?”

  The door immediately falls open under my hand. On the other side, Jay looks a little flustered, his hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed. “Lai. Hi.”

  Just the sight of him makes me happy. And he called me Lai.

  “Hey,” I say. Suddenly words are hard. “I just thought I’d stop by. And maybe see if you wanted to hang out?” I could kick myself.

  But if Jay notices my awkwardness, he doesn’t point it out. In fact, he seems to be struggling with the same problem. “Yeah! I mean, uh, yeah. Sure. What did you want to do?”

  “I was thinking we could play piano together.” It’s something I’ve been thinking about since yesterday. When Jay came to the realization he was stuck, and once I gathered that from his thoughts, I started wondering if there was anything I could do to help.

  I know what it’s like to not have a goal in life from my time on the streets. Every day, all I was concerned about was how I’d live on to the next day, and then years passed without me realizing. It felt like there was nothing I could do, nowhere I could go, no way I could change. Then Austin gave me purpose. He tried to do the same for Jay, but it didn’t change him any.

  I really think the Order will be good for him—and for my own selfish reasons, I’m thrilled he joined. But I want to give him more than that. He’s been there for me every time I needed him, even when we were at a disadvantage in battle, even when he didn’t understand what was wrong. He never abandoned me. And now, when he’s feeling lost and lonely and disconnected from the rest of the team, I want to do something for him. Something personal, something he’ll enjoy.

  And then, when I was thinking about what I could do for him, I remembered all the times he tried to talk to me about piano. How a small part of him would light up when he mentioned it.

  “Piano?” Jay repeats. The offer is met with an internal mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm. It’s been a long time since he last practiced, and he’s afraid of embarrassing himself, but he wants to play.

  I can relate. My years in the prison were mostly spent sneaking out to help the Order. The lonely piano in the corner of my room would constantly draw me to it, but it’s been some time since I played anything seriously.

  “I’m pretty awful these days,” I say, partly to reassure him he’s in good company, partly to cover myself ahead of time. “But if you wouldn’t mind that, then I think it’d be a nice break from everything related to war.”

  After a slight pause, Jay smiles. “Only so long as you don’t mind practicing with someone who hasn’t played in years.”

  I smile back. “I think I can handle that.”

  Central’s music hall is usually deserted this time of day. Most soldiers are either eating lunch or out running errands around now, so it’s the perfect time to practice without drawing attention to ourselves.

  The room itself is a pretty good size, everything adjusted for the best acoustics. Two grand pianos crouch in opposite corners of the room while racks upon racks of music line the back wall. The right wall is nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows that look out upon the sector. There’s a hallway to the left that leads to private practice rooms, and beyond that, the locker room for instruments. Music stands and chairs litter the center of the space.

  I haven’t been in this room for over two and a half years, and yet it hasn’t changed in the slightest. A wave of nostalgia rushes over me.

  Jay walks into the room with his mouth slightly open. “This place is huge! Eastern’s music hall was little more than a dorm room with a baby grand piano shoved inside.”

  “I’m glad you like it, then.” I’ve never known anyone other than Mom who was interested in music. Luke liked to come and hear me practice, but he never played himself. He didn’t even know how to read music.

  I sit at the closest piano, a pitch-black one I used to play frequently. It was my escape when I first came to the military. Back when I avoided everyone. I’d been tired of being judged as a Nyte, and I certainly didn’t want others to know about my living on the streets for nearly two years. They didn’t need any more reasons to be disgusted by me.


  But Sara and Luke were different. Maybe because both of them were also Nytes, but even once they found out I was a telepath, that I ran away from home, that I stole for years, they still accepted me. They were okay with me being next to them.

  Jay sits beside to me on the bench, fingers laced together in his lap. “What should we play?” he asks. His heels tap against the wooden floor in alternating beats.

  “Whatever you want.” A few pieces come to mind, but all of them are more difficult than I can handle right now. Besides, Jay should decide.

  He only too eagerly makes his way to the racks of music. He rifles through the sheets like a boy at a candy shop searching for the largest piece. I wonder if he’s ever even been inside a candy shop, what with that dad of his. I guess he never got the chance to be a kid.

  “Okay,” Jay says, bringing me back to the present. He’s sitting next to me on the bench again. I didn’t even notice him walk over. “I think I’ve decided. Do you know Bashir’s sonata?”

  “Number twelve?” I look over his shoulder at the piece he chose. He’s clutching it like a trophy, but carefully, so as not to wrinkle it. “Sure, I know it. It’s pretty popular.” It’s a mid-range piece, as far as skills go, so it shouldn’t give me too much trouble. Probably.

  “Then let’s try it.” He carefully props the sheet music up in front of us. “How do you want to do it? Should we play together on different octaves, or one at a time, or split the parts between bass and treble since it’s been a while?”

  His enthusiasm makes my chest warm. “What do you want to do?”

  He half smiles at me, inwardly realizing his overexcitement and feeling embarrassed by it. “How about at the same time on different octaves?”

  I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea since we’ll be overlapping like crazy, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe he doesn’t want to focus on anything stylistic and just wants to have fun with it. He was never able to do anything like that in the past. If nothing else, it’ll be a ridiculous display. Good thing no one else is here.